Chapter Eight
Elliot
I set the folder on the dining room table.
Centered. Precise.
Like evidence at trial.
Which, in a way, it is.
She’s already seated. Pink cardigan. Soft curls. Sipping tea like we’re about to discuss vacation plans instead of felony murder.
The men filter in.
Noah first. Always punctual.
He takes the seat beside Juliet, fingers immediately finding hers beneath the table.
Sweet boy.
Softest heart in a house full of knives.
Orion drops into his chair like he’s been summoned for an intervention.
Arms crossed. Jaw tight.
Protective mode activated.
Possibly homicidal mode on standby.
Callum sprawls. One leg kicked over the armrest. Grinning like this is dinner theater.
“So,” he says. “Who are we killing?”
“Callum,” I sigh.
“What? I’m being efficient. Cutting to the good part.”
Juliet snorts into her tea.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
These are my people. Somehow.
I really should get my license revoked.
I open the folder.
Slide the first page across the table.
A photograph.
Oksana Ivanov.
Sharp features.
Sharper eyes.
“Oksana Ivanov,” I begin. “Age forty-six. Born in Moscow. Immigrated to the U.S. in 2009 on a student visa. Never left.”
Orion leans forward. “What’s her deal?”
“Money laundering, primarily. She runs a network of businesses. Legitimate fronts with very illegitimate back rooms.” I tap the next page. “Nail salons. Dry cleaners. A car wash on Fifth. All cash-heavy. Perfect for cleaning dirty money.”
“How dirty?” Noah asks quietly.
I meet his eyes. “Think ‘bleach won’t help’ dirty.”
His mouth flattens.
I flip to the next page.
Financial records. Bank transfers. Shell companies.
“She’s connected to at least three organized crime syndicates. Russian, primarily. But she’s not loyal. She’s a freelancer. Moves money for whoever pays.”
“Mercenary bitch,” Callum says. “I like it.”
“You would,” Orion says.
I ignore them both.
“She’s been investigated twice. Never charged. She’s careful. Methodical. Leaves no paper trail. No witnesses willing to talk.”
“Why not?” Juliet asks. Her voice is too soft.
“Because the last person who testified against her ended up in the river,” I say flatly. “Accidental drowning, according to the report. Except he had zip ties on his wrists and concrete blocks tied to his ankles.”
Callum whistles. “Bold of the river to get into DIY.”
Orion’s jaw tightens. “And she’s threatening Vitaly.”
“Not threatening,” I correct. “Blackmailing. Noah confirmed. She sponsored his immigration. Fraudulently. If he doesn’t cooperate, she reports him. He loses the bakery. Gets deported. Maybe worse.”
“What does she want?” Callum asks.
I flip to the next page.
A ledger. Handwritten. Russian script mixed with numbers.
“She wants him to run money through the bakery. Cash deposits. Fake receipts. It’s a small operation, but it’s clean. Unassuming. No one suspects the sweet Russian baker.”
Juliet’s fingers tap against her mug.
Soft. Rhythmic.
Dangerous.
“What else?” she asks.
I hesitate.
Because this part?
This part’s going to set her off.
You can almost hear the little murder music start up behind her eyes.
“She’s escalating,” I say carefully. “Noah witnessed a physical altercation. She grabbed Vitaly. Threatened him. Threatened Noah.”
Orion’s chair scrapes back. “She fucking what?”
Noah flinches. “I’m fine. She just…”
Juliet turns to Noah. Her hand still in his. Her voice soft. Gentle. “Tell us what you saw, baby.”
Noah exhales.
Slow. Shaky.
His fingers flex against the table.
He doesn’t want to relive it.
But he will. Because he’s Noah and that’s what he does: bleeds politely.
“She came into the bakery,” Noah starts. Voice quiet. Controlled. “Middle of the day. Didn’t buy anything. Didn’t pretend to be a customer.”
He swallows.
“She just... walked in. Like she owned the place.”
“Power move,” Callum mutters. “Minus the tip jar.”
Orion leans forward. “And?”
“She grabbed him.” Noah’s voice cracks. Just slightly. “By the front of his shirt. Yanked him forward. Started yelling at him in Russian.”
Callum’s grin is gone now.
Completely.
“I didn’t understand what she was saying,” Noah continues.
Juliet’s fingers tighten around Noah’s.
“What did Vitaly do?” she asks.
Noah relives the whole scene for us. “Then she turned on me,” Noah says.
The table goes still.
Orion’s chair scrapes.
“She what?” His voice drops.
“I stepped in,” Noah says quickly. “Told her to back off. She... she didn’t like that.”
“What did she do?” Juliet’s voice is too calm.
Noah’s voice shakes as he tells it.
Orion stands. Fists clenched at his sides. “She fucking touched you?”
“Orion,” I say.
“She put her hands on you and threatened you?” he presses.
“Sit down,” I say firmly.
He doesn’t.
“Orion,” Juliet says. Soft. But commanding. “Sit.”
He sits.
But his jaw is locked. His hands still fisted.
Human earthquake, barely contained.
“She dug her nail into my wrist,” Noah continues. Quieter now.
Callum’s voice is flat. Cold. “What else?”
“She threatened him. With immigration,” Noah says. “That’s what Vitaly told me after she left.”
Juliet tilts her head. “He told you?”
Noah nods.
“And he told me,” Noah says. “About the fake engagement. About the sponsorship fraud. About how she wants him to launder money through the bakery. How if he says no, she reports him. He loses everything.”
“Or worse,” I add.
“Or worse,” Noah echoes.
He looks at Juliet. Eyes pleading.
“He’s not a criminal,” Noah says. Certain. “He’s not doing this willingly. He’s trapped. Scared. He just wanted a quiet life.”
Juliet’s expression softens.
“He said that?” she asks.
Noah nods. “Word for word.”
She exhales.
Then she looks at me.
At Orion.
At Callum.
“He’s sweet,” she says. Quiet. Decided. “And he’s scared. And he’s mine.”
Of course he is.
“Which means he’s ours,” she continues. “And we protect what’s ours.”
Orion cracks his knuckles. “Damn right we do.”
Callum grins. Slow. Sharp. “So what’s the play? I assume it’s not ‘respect the legal process.’”
Juliet looks at me.
I sigh.
Because I know what’s coming.
And I know I can’t stop it.
I am, at best, crisis management for a tiny cult.
“We bring him in,” Juliet says simply.
Her smile is soft.
Sweet.
Terrifying.
“And,” she says. “We handle Oksana.”
“Agreed,” Callum says, sitting up now. All traces of his grin gone. “When do we move?”
I hold up a hand.
“We don’t. Not yet.”
“Elliot,” Juliet starts.
“Listen.” My voice sharpens. Just enough. “Oksana Ivanov is not some jealous ex-girlfriend. She’s a professional criminal with connections, resources, and a body count. If we move without a plan, she’ll retaliate. And not just against us. Against Vitaly.”
That shuts them up.
I lean back.
Steeple my fingers.
Let the weight of it settle.
“So,” I say quietly. “We need to be smart. Precise. And above all...” I glance at Juliet. “We need to make sure she doesn’t see us coming.”
“Oh, Elliot,” she purrs. “She won’t.”
I believe her.
Unfortunately.
I stand.
Walk to the whiteboard mounted on the kitchen wall.
The one Juliet uses for meal planning and passive-aggressive reminders.
I erase ‘Callum - fold the laundry’ and pick up a marker.
“Alright,” I say. “If we’re doing this, we do it smart. Which means assignments.”
I draw a line down the center.
Left side: Oksana
Right side: Vitaly
“Orion. Callum.” I turn to them. “You two are on Oksana.”
Orion cracks his knuckles. “What kind of on her?”
“Surveillance first,” I say. “Stalking, but make it responsible. I need to know her patterns. Where she goes. Who she meets. What businesses she’s actually running through.”
“And if we see an opportunity to fuck with her?” Callum asks.
I pause.
Consider.
“Use discretion.”
Callum grins. “That’s a yes.”
“That’s a be smart about it,” I correct. “She’s dangerous. She has connections.”
“So we’re subtle,” Orion says.
“Subtle,” I confirm.
Callum snorts. “Orion doesn’t do subtle.”
“Then you’ll have to do it for him,” I say flatly.
I write their names under Oksana’s column.
Turn to Noah.
“You keep working at the bakery,” I say. “Be his friend. Be his support. Make sure he knows he’s not alone.”
Noah nods. “I can do that.”
“And keep your phone on you,” Orion adds. “If she shows up again?”
“I’ll call,” Noah promises.
I write Noah’s name under Vitaly’s column.
Then I add my own name under Oksana.
“I’ll dig deeper into her operation,” I say. “Anything we can use as leverage. If we’re going to take her down, we need evidence. Real evidence. The kind that makes her disappear without making us the obvious suspects.”
“Or,” Callum says, “We just make her disappear.”
“Callum.”
“I’m just saying. It’s an option. Environmentally friendly, even, depending where we put her.”
Juliet hums.
I turn to her. “And you?”
She smiles.
Stands.
Crosses the kitchen to stand beside me.
Picks up the pink marker.
Writes her name under Vitaly’s column.
In hearts.
Of course.
“I’ll handle the introduction,” she says.
“The introduction,” I repeat.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You’re going to engineer a meet-cute.”
“Obviously.”
“When?”
She tilts her head. “Soon. He’s stressed. Vulnerable. Oksana’s squeezing him. He needs to know there’s a way out.”
“And you’re the way out,” Orion says.
“I’m the way in,” Juliet corrects. She taps the board. “Once he’s ours, he’s safe. Protected. We handle Oksana together.”
“After you seduce him,” Callum says.
“After I introduce myself,” Juliet says primly.
Noah sighs. “You’re going to break into his house again, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Juliet.”
“What? It worked with you.”
“You manipulated me.”
“And look how well that turned out,” she says sweetly.
Orion laughs.
“Fine,” I say. “You handle Vitaly. We handle Oksana. But we coordinate. No one moves without telling the group. Understood?”
“Understood,” Orion says.
“Sure,” Callum says.
“Yes, sir,” Noah says.
Juliet just smiles.
Which means she’s already planning something.
Something I won’t know about until it’s done.
Par for the course.
“So,” Callum says, leaning back in his chair, grin returning. “Who’s the new guy? Think he’ll be any help with this?”
Juliet glances up from her tea. “What new guy?”
“The one you were eye-fucking at the mall,” Callum says.
Juliet waves a hand. “I haven’t run his plates yet.”
“Yet,” Noah repeats, smiling softly. “So he’s pending approval?”
“Pending research,” Juliet corrects.
Callum laughs. “Already got a notebook, Madness?”
Juliet doesn’t answer.
Which is answer enough.
I sigh. “Please tell me he’s not a serial killer. One is enough.”
“Callum’s not a serial killer,” Juliet says.
“Anymore,” Callum adds helpfully. “Though, happy to come out of retirement for Vitaly. Juliet. Shits and giggles. Whatever works.”
Orion snorts. “What’s his deal? The new guy.”
Juliet tilts her head. “Intense. Observant. Good hands.”
“Good hands?” Noah grins.
“Capable hands,” Juliet clarifies. “Like he knows how to use them.”
Callum waggles his eyebrows. “I bet he does.”
“Focus,” I snap. “We have an actual problem to solve. Juliet’s... pending acquisition can wait.”
“Acquisition,” Orion mutters. “Jesus Christ.”
Juliet just smiles. “He can wait. Vitaly can’t.”
I look at the board.
Our names. Our missions.
A family going to war.
For a man we haven’t even officially met yet.
“Alright,” I say. “Let’s bring him home.”