18. Emil
EMIL
The glow from the monitors casts shadows across my private security office, a space separate from where my security personnel work.
This room is mine alone, soundproofed and locked, where I can handle the most sensitive surveillance without interruption.
Six screens mounted on the wall show different angles of Kiera's apartment, each feed crystal clear in high definition with audio capabilities.
I lean back in my leather chair, a glass of vodka within reach, watching her move through her kitchen.
She's wearing gray sweatpants that sit low on her hips and a loose tank top, her short red hair fresh and clean from the bath she took earlier.
I can't help the chuckle that escapes me.
At nine-thirty on a Friday night, this woman is cleaning her kitchen.
It's so fucking domestic, so normal compared to the violence and chaos that fill my world.
I've given her space these past few days, let her breathe without my constant presence, but that doesn't mean I've stopped keeping tabs on her safety. And my determination hasn't wavered. She'll be my wife. It's not a question of if, just when.
She's meticulous about her cleaning. Gets into every corner, every crevice. The way she bends over to reach the lower cabinets makes my mouth go dry. That ass, round and perfect. I imagine gripping her hips, pulling her back against me while I'm buried deep inside her.
Soon. Once I've dealt with the threats circling around her and she's safely under my roof where she belongs, I'll have her in every way possible.
She moves to the sink, scrubbing it with the same focused intensity. I'm reaching for my vodka when Kiera suddenly freezes. Her whole body goes rigid, the sponge still in her hand. She's staring at something, her face draining of color even through the camera feed.
Every muscle in my body tenses. "What is it?" I mutter.
Then I see it. In the window behind her, reflected in the glass of her kitchen. A face. Someone's standing outside her apartment, looking in at her.
Ice floods my veins, the kind of cold fury that precedes violence. I'm already moving, fingers flying across the keyboard to capture the image, to zoom in and get a clear shot of the bastard who dares to watch what's mine.
The face is male, partially obscured by the angle and the darkness outside. I study it carefully, committing every visible feature to memory. Not Arnie. I'd recognize that piece of shit anywhere. This is someone else. Someone I don't recognize.
I hit the intercom button. "Luca. My office."
Kiera's still frozen at her sink, staring at the window. The face disappears, melting back into the darkness. She stands there for another moment before rushing to the window and yanking the curtains closed. Smart girl. But curtains won't keep her safe.
Luca appears in my doorway less than thirty seconds later. He knows better than to keep me waiting when I use that tone. "Boss?"
"Look at this." I gesture to the screen where I've frozen the image of the face. "Find out who the fuck this is. I want a name, address, and everything about him by morning."
Luca moves closer, studying the image with sharp focus. "I'll run it through our facial recognition program and give the guys a copy of the image to see if they recognize him."
"Do it." I drain the rest of my vodka, the glass hitting the desk harder than intended.
"On it." Luca's already pulling out his phone as he heads for the door, his fingers moving across the screen to forward the image to our tech team.
I turn back to the monitors, watching Kiera pace her apartment.
She's scared. I can see it in the tension of her shoulders and the way she keeps glancing at the now covered window.
She pulls out her phone, stares at it for a moment, then sets it down without making a call.
She wraps her arms around herself, looking small and vulnerable in her living room.
Everything in me wants to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and promise her she's safe. But I can't. Not when there's a threat I need to eliminate first.
Movement on one of the exterior monitors catches my attention. A car pulling up to Kiera's building. I recognize it immediately. Kevin's sedan. Her brother gets out, his expression tight with concern as he heads for the entrance.
I switch to the hallway camera, watching him take the stairs quickly. He's moving with purpose, and the lines on his face are drawn tightly with concern. On the apartment feed, I see Kiera's head snap toward her door at the sound of knocking.
Her expression shifts immediately. Not relief. Irritation floods her face, her jaw clenching as she stalks toward the door. She yanks it open, and through the audio feed, I hear her sharp tone.
"What do you want, Kevin?"
"Kiera, I need to talk to you." Kevin tries to step inside, but she blocks the doorway with her body.
"I told all of you I needed space. That includes you showing up at my apartment uninvited."
"This is important. Can I please come in?"
She stares at him for a long moment, then steps aside with obvious reluctance. "Fine. But make it quick."
Kevin enters, and Kiera closes the door behind him, throwing the deadbolt. They move into the living room, and I adjust the audio to pick up their conversation more clearly.
The older protective brother launches in to a renewed attempt to get her to move in with him for her safety.
When that doesn't work, he suggests she move out of state, or even the country.
Like hell that's going to happen! But Kiera doesn't seem remotely interested and tells him that she's not going anywhere.
She's not going into hiding because of some idiot out there.
Kevin sighs, running a hand through his hair. There's a pause, and I can see him gathering himself for something. "There's something else you need to know."
"What?" Kiera's arms are crossed, her body language defensive.
"It's about Jack."
My entire body goes still, every sense focused on the audio feed at the mention of Kiera's cop brother.
"What about him?" Kiera asks.
Kevin hesitates, then says quietly, "He's been investigating Emil Nikitin. Privately."
My jaw clenches so hard, I hear my teeth grind. The fucking idiot was warned to stay away and not investigate me or the family. He's going to get himself killed.
"He's looking for evidence," Kevin continues. "He wants to put the man away before he can hurt you or get you involved in his Mafia business."
For the second time tonight, Kiera's face drains of color. "Is he insane?"
"When it comes to our little sister, there's nothing any of us won't do to keep you safe."
I watch Kevin leave on the monitors, see him walk down the hallway and disappear into the stairwell.
The exterior camera catches him getting into his car and driving away.
Kiera locks the door behind him and leans against it with her eyes closed.
She looks exhausted, scared, and angry at her family for not respecting her boundaries.
But all I can think about is what I just heard. Jack's investigating me. My expression hardens, and I feel that familiar coldness settle over me, the one that comes before I make difficult decisions.
Something has to be done about Jack, but what?
I can't just eliminate a cop. That brings heat I don't need.
I've done it before, and it is possible, but it's a mess.
Jack is a straight shooter. There's no paying him off.
Plus, he's Kiera's brother and somehow, I don't think she'd appreciate my sending her brother to his grave. But I can't let him continue, either.
But first, I need to deal with the immediate threat.
I pull out my phone and call Luca. "Send some men to look around Kiera's apartment to see if the bastard left any clues."
"On it," Luca responds.
I pour myself another vodka and settle in to wait.
The minutes crawl by. I watch Kiera curl up on her couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
She's fighting sleep, jerking awake every few minutes to check the window and front door, but exhaustion is winning.
Eventually, she stops fighting it, her breathing evening out as she finally succumbs.
I watch her sleep and think about all the ways I'm going to make whoever scared her tonight regret being born.
It had to be the same guy who took a shot at her outside her apartment.
The asshole missed the first time, so now he's surveilling her, finding out the weaknesses and risks and how best to make the hit successful.
My fingers wrap around my glass so hard, I'm surprised it doesn't shatter from the pressure.
There's no way in hell I'm going to let the asshole near enough to see her again, much less harm her.
This is my fault, and while I feel a little twinge of guilt, it's not enough for me to back out of my plans to make her my wife.
Unfortunately, she'll likely always be a target since she's connected to me.
It's the way of my lifestyle, but that's what security and security measures are for.
That's why it's imperative that I get her moved into my estate where she can have the best protection.
Finally, after what feels like hours but is probably only forty-five minutes, Luca returns. I can tell from his face before he even speaks that it's not good news.
"Well?" I keep my voice level, but my hands curl into fists on the desk.
Luca shakes his head. "Nothing, Boss. No footprints, no fingerprints, not a fucking thing to show he was there. The ground was undisturbed. Not even a bent blade of grass."
I stare at the frozen image of the face on my screen.
"Whoever this was," Luca says quietly, "they're a professional."