Chapter 15 #2
“ Da , but I’ve had enough success to stay alive and keep my people safe. Until recently.”
“Tell me about Lang.”
Yefrem opens the notebook and flips through pages covered in his careful handwriting of numbers and names and dates that represent years of careful record-keeping.
“He was a good agent once. Dedicated, honest, and effective at his job.” He leans back, still meeting my gaze. “Then his wife got cancer almost eight years ago.”
Sympathy stirs in spite of the way he burst into my life and home, threatening me. “The treatment wasn’t covered?”
“Not all of it. They explored experimental procedures, specialists, and medications that weren’t FDA-approved. He mortgaged their house, sold everything they owned, and borrowed from family.” He frowns. “It wasn’t enough.”
“So he went corrupt?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Perhaps that’s too harsh of an assessment, kotik .
He got desperate to save the woman he loved.
He started small by taking money to delay investigations, providing advance warning about raids, and selling information that wasn’t technically classified.
” He sets aside the notebook and focuses on me completely.
“One compromise led to another, then another, until he was running his own operation inside the Bureau.”
“What kind of operation?”
“Brokering deals between rival organizations, playing middleman in disputes, and taking percentages from everyone while using his badge for protection. When his wife died two years ago, he seemed to lose any moral compass or ability to care about right and wrong.” Yefrem’s voice carries disgust, either for Lang’s methods or his lack of subtlety.
“He got greedy and tried to expand too fast.”
“And ran into you.”
“He tried to force me into a partnership I didn’t want. He demanded access to my routes, my contacts, and my operations. When I refused, he made it personal.”
I lean forward in my chair, finally getting to the heart of what I need to understand. “What did he do?”
“He aligned himself with the Belov family—rivals of mine who’ve been trying to move into my territory for years.
Together, they hit my estate outside Las Vegas.
” Yefrem’s expression hardens, and for a moment, I see the dangerous man Lang underestimated.
“They killed several of my people, along with a fourteen-year-old boy who was the son of the housekeeper and got caught in the crossfire, and destroyed everything I’d built there. ”
“So you retaliated.”
“I cut him off. I froze him out of any deals that required my cooperation and made it clear that working with the Belovs meant working against me.” He gestures toward the notebook.
“Unfortunately, he saw one of my notebooks in the raid at Vegas. I managed to get it back from him in a bloody operation, but he knows of its existence and is determined to acquire it to bring me down.”
“So, he’s still coming after you for revenge?”
“Probably somewhat, but mostly, he got desperate again. My spies tell me he’s convinced himself he can neutralize me before I can expose him to honest agents within the FBI.” Yefrem shrugs, a gesture that encompasses years of conflict and violence. “I intend to ensure he sees he’s wrong.”
I sit back in my chair, trying to process the full scope of what I’ve learned. This isn’t just about one corrupt agent or one criminal organization. It’s about competing power structures, overlapping jurisdictions, a shadow economy that operates parallel to legitimate business.
“What happens now?”
“Now it gets complicated.” Yefrem pulls out another document, this one covered in official-looking letterhead and bureaucratic language. “Lang’s disappearance will trigger a federal investigation. They’ll trace his movements, interview his contacts, and search for evidence of what happened to him.”
“They’ll find my house.”
“Eventually. My people are cleaning it now to eliminate any trace that either of us was ever there, but investigators are thorough when one of their own goes missing.”
My stomach drops at the thought of the entire FBI pursuing me. “What about the Belovs?”
“They’ll soon realize he’s actually dead and the notebook is still in my possession. If they really want my territory—and they do—they’ll escalate.”
“Escalate how?”
Yefrem meets my gaze directly, looking solemn. “They’ll come after everyone connected to me. My associates, my employees, and my properties.” He pauses, giving me time to process that. “They’ll target anyone who might know where I am or what I’m planning.”
My stomach churns with a surge of nausea. “Anyone like me.”
“Yes.” The stark word is so much worse than if he’d tried to soften it, though there’s really no way to cushion this blow.
Reality settles over me, increasing my nausea.
I’m not just hiding from federal investigators anymore, which is bad enough.
I’m also possibly a target for Russian criminals, who see me as a potential source of information or leverage against Yefrem.
There’s no neutral position in this conflict, and no way to extract myself without becoming a liability to one side or the other. “So I can’t go home.”
“Not safely. Not for a long time.”
“Ever,” I whisper, accepting that horrible truth. How can I? This sort of situation doesn’t just fade away. “My mother…” I close my eyes. “What about her?”
He hesitates. “In the future, when it’s safer, I’ll ensure you can discreetly contact her.
If she wants to join us then, I’ll make the arrangements.
” His tone is gentle. “That will have to be several months, at the very least, before the heat dies down. In the meantime, is there some subtle message you can send to let her know you’re alive and reasonably safe that won’t attract FBI attention? ”
I stand up and walk to the window, looking out at the forest that surrounds this compound.
There are miles of trees in every direction, natural barriers that hide us from satellites and surveillance, and from the outside world and all its complications.
A beautiful prison for people who can’t afford to be found.
I consider his words before turning to look at him.
“Can I send her a music box with a Nutcracker theme? When I was little, she took me to the show every year, and we always bought a music box from one of the vendors.”
He nods. “Find one you want to send and text me the link. I’ll arrange it.”
I let out a small sigh of relief that I’ll be able to send my mom a subtle message. She’ll still have a million questions, but at least she’ll know I’m alive. If this goes on for too long, maybe I can find a way to send music boxes every few months to let her know I’m still okay.
I meet his gaze again. “Be honest with me. How long will all this really take?” In my heart, I already know I can’t return to my real life, but how long until I can settle into a new one and feel safe?
“This will last until we resolve the situation with the Belovs and their allies in the Bureau.” Yefrem joins me at the window, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his presence and remember how it felt to be in his arms. “We have to find a way to neutralize the threat permanently.”
I shiver since that sounds ominous. “What does that mean?”
“It means, especially for the Belovs, that we make them more afraid of us than we are of them.”
The clinical way he says it, like discussing a business strategy rather than planning violence, reminds me again of what kind of man he is, and I’m tied to him for the time being.
He solves problems with force when negotiation fails, who sees killing as a tool like any other.
It’s frightening but also somewhat reassuring.
If I’m dragged into this, I need someone who knows how to fight back since I’m out of my element.
The unfairness of it all threatens to overwhelm me. “I didn’t ask for this.”
He sounds sympathetic but firm. “I know.”
“I just wanted to rent out my guest room. Make a little extra money while I figured out what to do next.” I turn away from the window to face him directly. “I didn’t sign up to be a fugitive.”
He nods. “You didn’t sign up for any of this, but you’re here anyway, which means you’re stronger than you think you are.”
“Or stupider.”
“Or braver.”
The compliment catches me off guard, delivered with a sincerity that seems out of place given our circumstances.
Brave. Is that what this is? It doesn’t feel like bravery.
It feels like being swept along by forces beyond my control, making the best choices available from a set of terrible options. “What if I want to leave?”
The question is loaded with implications we both understand. What if I decide this is too much, too dangerous, and too far from the life I thought I wanted? What if I choose to take my chances with federal investigators rather than Russian criminals?
“You can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t be allowed to?”
Yefrem considers the distinction carefully before answering. “Both. Even if I let you walk away—which would be the stupidest thing I could do—you know too much now about my operations, my properties, and my associates. That information makes you valuable to my enemies and dangerous to me.”
“So, I’m a prisoner.”
“You’re under protection. There’s a difference.”
I cock a brow, and my tone is cynical. “Is there?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, and his silence tells me everything I need to know.
The distinction between protection and imprisonment might matter to him philosophically, but practically, the result is the same.
I can’t leave, can’t contact anyone from my old life aside from the subtle gift for my mother, and I can’t make choices about my future without considering how they affect his security.
“I’m sorry.” The apology comes quietly, with genuine regret. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
I’m sure he’s being truthful, which makes it more disconcerting. He seems to care about me, and about dragging me into this, but I’m still his prisoner. “I believe you, but it did happen.”
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “And now we both have to live with the consequences.”
“Yes.”
I return to my chair and sit down heavily, feeling the full weight of my situation for the first time since Lang broke into my house.
No job, no home, and no life to return to.
No friends or family I can contact without putting them in danger.
I have no future that doesn’t involve hiding from federal agents and Russian criminals.
“What kind of life is this going to be?”
He’s brisk and straightforward. “Different from what you planned. It will be more dangerous and definitely more complicated.” Yefrem sits back down across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Not necessarily worse.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because you’re alive, you’re safe, and you’re not facing this alone.” He reaches across the desk and touches my hand briefly before pulling back. “We’re partners.”
The promise should be comforting, but it raises as many questions as it answers.
Partners how? As allies or something more?
What does together mean when one person is a criminal kingpin and the other is a former marketing manager who just wants to survive?
“Partners don’t usually imprison each other. ”
He gives me a tiny smile. “Sometimes, they do in my world.”
“Our worlds aren’t the same.” I bend my head down and breathe deeply several times before looking up to meet his gaze again. “I need time to think.”
“Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere for a while.”
I stand to leave, then pause at the door. “Yefrem?”
“Yes?”
“The notebook—is everything in there true?”
He considers the question carefully, obviously understanding that I’m really asking whether he’s been honest with me about the scope of his activities, and the depth of his criminality. “Every word.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that it could destroy several organizations and so-called upstanding citizens if it fell into the wrong hands. Bad enough that people will kill to get it or to keep it secret.”
“Including you?”
He doesn’t even blink. “Including me.”
I nod and leave him alone with his maps and plans and carefully documented crimes. In the hallway outside his study, I lean against the wall and try to organize my thoughts around this new reality.
I’m not just hiding from the consequences of killing Marcus Lang anymore.
I’m hiding from the consequences of getting involved with Yefrem Kulikov, a man whose notebook contains enough criminal evidence to bring down multiple organizations and people.
He’s made enemies of federal agents and rival crime families, solves problems with violence, and considers killing a reasonable business practice.
He’s promised to be my partner in this, which shouldn’t make me feel better since he dragged me into this, but it does.
I’m steadier knowing I’m not navigating this alone.
We’re working together even if that means sharing a fortress with armed guards and enough firepower to fight off an invasion.
It’s difficult to accept my safety means accepting protection from someone who’s committed crimes I can’t even imagine, but that’s where I am.
I think I’ll survive this, but I’m sure it means giving up all hope of returning to the woman I used to be.
I walk back to my room and lock the door, then sit by the window looking out at the forest. Right now, federal agents are already investigating Marcus Lang’s disappearance while Russian criminals are planning their next move against Yefrem and anyone connected to him.
And here I am, caught in the middle of it all, trying to figure out how to build a life from the wreckage of everything I thought I wanted.
I think about Mrs. Patterson and Sariah, hoping Janine can come by to walk the little dog until my lovely neighbor is back on her feet.
I have no way to contact her subtly like my mom, since we have no major shared history.
I’ll be a mystery to her, with my disappearance dissected by the neighborhood, becoming juicy gossip until I become a footnote they occasionally mention in years to come. It fills me with sadness.
What choice do I have though? I’ll have to start learning how to be someone new, who can live with the choices I’ve made to survive in a world where violence is commonplace and trust is a luxury few can afford.
Tonight, I’ll mourn the woman I used to be, the life I’ll never get back, and the safety I didn’t know I was giving up when I decided to rent out my guest room to a mysterious stranger with kind eyes and dangerous secrets.
Tonight, I’ll just be sad and not worry about finding the strength to carry on at least for a few more hours.