44. Emil
EMIL
The silver-haired man's words echo in my mind long after we leave the card house.
If the shooter isn't from any of the families, then who the hell is behind this?
The question gnaws at me as Luca drives us back to the estate, Kiera quiet in the seat beside me.
She's exhausted, I can tell. The evening wore on her more than she expected, and I can see the fatigue in the way she leans against the window.
When we arrive home, I walk her to her bedroom and watch as she disappears inside without a word.
The door closes softly, and I stand there for a moment, my mind already turning to the next steps.
If the families aren't involved, then the threat is coming from somewhere else.
And that makes it infinitely more dangerous.
I don't sleep well that night. My thoughts keep circling back to the same question. Who wants Kiera dead? By the time morning comes, I've made a decision. If the threat isn't coming from my world, then maybe it's coming from hers.
Wednesday morning arrives with gray skies and a chill in the air. I dress in dark jeans and a black Henley, casual enough not to draw attention but still projecting the authority I carry everywhere I go. Luca meets me in the foyer, his expression questioning.
"We're going out," I tell him. "I need to talk to Kiera's brothers."
He nods, understanding immediately. "Which ones?"
"Devin first. Then Kevin."
The drive to Devin's gym takes about thirty minutes.
It's located in a trendy part of the city, sandwiched between a juice bar and a yoga studio.
The building itself is modern, all glass and steel with the gym's name emblazoned across the front in bold letters.
Through the windows, I can see rows of equipment, people running on treadmills, lifting weights, and moving through their routines with focused determination.
Luca parks the SUV, and we head inside. The air smells like sweat and rubber, the sound of clanging weights and pounding feet filling the space.
A young woman at the front desk looks up as we enter, her eyes widening slightly when she sees me.
I'm used to that reaction. People can sense danger even when they don't understand what they're looking at.
"I'm here to see Devin Walker," I say.
She hesitates, her gaze flicking to Luca, then back to me. "Is he expecting you?"
"No."
"I'll… I'll go get him." She hurries away, disappearing through a door marked Staff Only.
A few minutes later, Devin emerges. He's wearing athletic shorts and a tank top that shows off his muscular build, and a towel is draped around his neck. When he sees me, surprise flashes across his face, followed quickly by something that looks almost like excitement.
"Emil," he says, walking over with an easy stride. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"I thought I'd check out your gym," I say, keeping my tone casual. "Kiera mentioned you own the place."
His face lights up. "Yeah, I do. Opened it about five years ago.
It's been my passion project, you know? Health and fitness first. That's what I'm all about.
" He gestures around the space with obvious pride.
"I wanted to create a place where people could come and really transform their lives.
Not just physically, but mentally too. Exercise is about so much more than looking good.
It's about feeling good, being strong, and taking control of your health. "
I nod, letting him talk. Devin is enthusiastic, that much is clear.
He loves what he does, and it shows in every word.
As he gives me a tour of the facility, pointing out the various equipment and explaining his philosophy on training, I study him carefully.
He's genuine, I realize. There's no pretense here, no hidden agenda.
He's exactly what he appears to be—a man who cares about helping people get in shape.
"You want to work out while you're here?" he asks, stopping near the free weights section. "I'd love to see what you can do. Maybe even give you some pointers."
I almost smile at that. Pointers. As if I haven't been training my body for combat since I was a teenager. But I don't say that. Instead, I nod. "Sure."
We spend the next twenty minutes going through a routine.
Devin watches my form, offering suggestions here and there, clearly in his element.
I go through the motions, lifting weights, doing reps, and letting him think he's teaching me something.
In reality, I'm watching him, observing and assessing.
When we finish, Devin hands me a towel and grins. "Not bad. You've got good form. Ever think about getting a personal trainer? I could really help you maximize your potential."
"I'll keep that in mind," I say, wiping the sweat from my face. Then I shift gears, my tone becoming more serious. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you about."
His expression changes, becoming more guarded. "Okay."
"I need to know if there's anyone in your life who might have a grudge against you," I say, watching his reaction carefully. "Friends, acquaintances, or clients. Anyone who might want to hurt you or your family."
Devin's eyes widen, genuine shock crossing his face.
"What? No. Why would anyone have a grudge against me?
" He gestures around the gym again, his voice rising slightly.
"I improve people's lives, Emil. That's what I do.
I help them get healthy and feel better about themselves. I don't make enemies."
I study him for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. But there's nothing. He's telling the truth, or at least he believes he is. Sometimes, people make enemies without even realizing it, but Devin seems genuinely baffled by the question.
"Think about it," I say. "Anyone who might have been unhappy with your services. Anyone who felt wronged in some way. Or perhaps a disgruntled employee."
He shakes his head slowly. "No. I really can't think of anyone.
My clients love this place. I get five-star reviews constantly.
And my friends…" He trails off, his brow furrowing.
"My friends are good people. We're all about positivity and growth.
" He pauses, a look of concentration crossing his face.
"I haven't let any employees go. In fact, there isn't even anyone new.
Everyone here has been here for at least three years. "
I nod, filing away his response. "If you think of anything, let me know."
"I will." He hesitates, then asks, "Is Kiera okay?"
"I'm handling it," I say, my tone making it clear the conversation is over. "Come by the estate tomorrow night for dinner. Seven o'clock."
"Dinner?" He looks surprised again.
"Yes. Bring your brothers."
"Uh, okay. Sure." He's clearly confused, but he doesn't argue.
Luca and I leave the gym and head to our next destination.
Kevin's marketing firm is located downtown in a sleek high-rise building.
The lobby is all polished marble and modern art, the kind of place designed to impress clients and project success.
We take the elevator to the fifteenth floor, where Kevin's firm occupies an entire suite of offices.
The receptionist at the front desk is polished and professional, her smile practiced. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No," I say. "Tell Kevin Walker that Emil Nikitin is here to see him."
Her smile falters slightly at my name, but she picks up the phone and relays the message. A moment later, she hangs up and gestures toward a hallway. "He'll see you. Third door on the right."
Kevin's office is spacious and well-appointed, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a view of the city skyline.
He's sitting behind a large desk, his expression tight as we enter.
He's wearing a charcoal suit and a burgundy tie, every inch the successful executive.
But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches when he looks at me.
He doesn't want me here. That much is obvious.
Associating with a Bratva boss isn't good for his image, and Kevin is all about image.
He's the oldest brother, the one who raised Kiera after their parents died.
He's used to being in control and protecting his family.
And now I'm a threat he can't eliminate.
"Emil," he says, standing but not offering his hand. "What can I do for you?"
"I need to ask you some questions," I say, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk without waiting for an invitation. Luca remains standing by the door, his presence a silent reminder of who holds the power here.
Kevin sits back down, his expression wary. "Questions about what?"
"About your life. Your business. Your associates." I lean back in the chair, my posture relaxed but my gaze sharp. "I need to know if there's anyone who might have a grudge against you. Anyone who might want to hurt you or your family."
His eyes narrow. "Why are you asking me this?"
"Because someone is trying to kill Kiera," I say bluntly. "And I'm exploring every possibility."
The color drains from his face. "You think someone is targeting her because of me?"
"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out." I watch him carefully, looking for any flicker of recognition or hint that he knows more than he's saying. "So I'll ask again. Is there anyone in your life who might want to cause harm?"
Kevin is silent for a long moment, his mind clearly working through the question.
Finally, he shakes his head. "No. I can't think of anyone.
My business is competitive, sure, but it's not cutthroat.
We win some accounts, we lose some accounts.
That's just how it works. But nobody would…
" He trails off, his expression troubled.
"Nobody would try to kill someone over a marketing contract. "
"What about personal relationships?" I press. "Friends who became enemies? Romantic entanglements that ended badly?"
"No." His voice is firm. "I keep my personal life separate from my professional life. And I don't have enemies, Emil. I'm not like you."
The barb is intentional, but I don't react. "Everyone has enemies," I say quietly. "Sometimes, we just don't know it yet."
He stares at me, and I can see the fear in his eyes. Not fear of me, but fear for his sister. Fear that his world, his carefully constructed life, might somehow be responsible for putting her in danger.
"If I think of anything, I'll let you know," he says.
"Do that." I stand, preparing to leave. "And come by the estate tomorrow night. Seven o'clock. Dinner with your brothers."
"Why?"
"Because I'm asking you to." I hold his gaze, letting him see the steel beneath the civility. "And because Kiera would want you there."
He doesn't argue. He just nods, his expression resigned.
Luca and I leave the building and head back to the SUV.
The drive home is quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
The answers I received from Devin and Kevin were pretty much what I expected.
Neither of them seems to have any obvious enemies, no one who would go to the lengths of hiring a professional shooter.
But tomorrow night at dinner, I'll dig deeper.
Sometimes, people don't realize the threats in their own lives until someone forces them to look.
When we pull up to the estate, I'm already thinking about the next steps. I need to expand the investigation and look into Kiera's friends, coworkers, and anyone who might have a connection to her. The shooter is out there somewhere, and I'm running out of time to find them before they try again.
I head inside, intending to go straight to my office and start making calls. But when I push open the door, I stop short.
Kiera is sitting behind my desk, her posture rigid and her expression furious. In her hands is one of my surveillance folders.
She looks up at me, her blue eyes blazing with anger, and I know immediately that this conversation is not going to go well.