8. But you gotta have faith
Chapter 8
But you gotta have faith
TOMER
B oss saunters in without addressing anyone, his sharp eyes studying our positioning around the office. He looks at Klein and Mia who are standing at the whiteboard. Then to the table where Shep, Sawyer, and Jonesy are seated.
After sweeping his gaze past me, he focuses on Mia.“What do you have?” he asks her.
Her.
Not me.
“Um, let’s see.” Mia’s voice falters before she quickly recovers. “We finally got a hit on Yev when he entered a grocery store in south Tampa. He was walking with his head down and hat pulled low, which is probably why we haven’t caught him before now. We got lucky when a gust of wind blew the hat off. After trailing him via the cameras inside the store, we caught him exiting and getting into a vehicle.”
“You get a license plate?” Boss asks.
Her. Again.
If the subtle glances she keeps shooting my way are any indication, Mia senses my frustration. “Tomer handled that.”
Big Al’s cheek twitches when he casts his glare my way.
I pretend it’s fine and report out. “We tracked his vehicle through town, and I got his plate number from a traffic light cam. Vehicle is registered to an Alexei Bugrov. His residence is approximately six miles from the grocery store. Although Yev’s entire drive wasn’t captured due to blind spots in digital surveillance, he seemed to be heading in that direction. Aaron is en route to the location and will attempt to tag the car in case he moves again before we move in. If unable to access the vehicle without detection, he’ll stay behind for surveillance.”
Boss approaches the whiteboard, scanning the details plastered across it. “Who is this Alexei Bugrov? What do we know about him?”
Klein takes this one. “We’re still digging, but so far, we know he’s a Russian deli owner in Port Tampa City. He is sixty-two years old.”
Boss rears his head back, mouth puckering like he ate something sour. “That’s it?”
I jump back in. “I’m running a search for news articles, photos, social media, commercials, job history, and anything else we can scrape off the web to put a more complete picture together. Pickings were slim on our first pass. Gonna need some time for that. In the meantime, I don’t recommend waiting. If Yev disappears again, who knows when we’ll find him next.”
Big Al’s audible inhale is accompanied by his patented exhale of displeasure. A gruff rumble that signals how fucking annoyed he is. “Why haven’t we turned Yev’s potential location over to CPD? There’s a warrant for his arrest. They’ll apprehend him immediately.”
Once again, his question was directed at Mia.
My molars scrape and squeak. With each repeated dismissal, it becomes more of a challenge to keep my face impassive.
Sawyer notices this time, catching my eyes and telegraphing a warning at me.
Forcing my jaw to relax, I train my vision on Mia and pretend it’s perfectly normal for him to treat me like I’m the low rung on the ladder instead of the person who helped him build this whole fucking company.
Mia tips her chin upward. “Quite frankly, Boss, we need to interrogate the hell out of Yev. We’ll attempt to do that as painlessly as possible so the cops don’t have to come after us when we turn him over, but we need to know what he knows if we’re ever going to take Lenkov down. With each passing day, we’re realizing Yev isn’t merely a grunt who brings in the girls. He’s more connected than we thought. He isn’t the whole enchilada, but he’s far more than beans and rice. “
I shift my attention to the board. Rather than wait for his decision, I’ll use the time to solve this puzzle in front of me.
Not because it’s a good use of time. But because this entire interaction with Big Al is gutting me. Aside from being humiliating, it’s... fucking heartbreaking.
For most of my adult life, I’ve worshiped this man. Sacrificed everything for him.
I get that he’s mad, and he deserves to be. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.
Boss takes almost no time to decide. “Fine. I’m on board unless your plan to nab him sucks.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice him face me. The heat of his stare burns my cheek.
Wish I was man enough to look him in the eye with my chin raised.
However, I can’t trust my reaction. Will I cry? Rage? Quiver and cower? Beg for his forgiveness?
Who the fuck knows? All are possible outcomes.
I’m not used to having so many emotions pelting me relentlessly. I damn sure haven’t had time to formulate coping skills for managing them.
For the first time today, he addresses me directly. Sadly, his words slice through my heart with surgical precision. “Not that my approval matters since you’re going to do whatever you want anyhow.”Leaving the scalpel lingering between my ribs, he turns his back to me and claps his hands. “Well, I’m not here to paint your toenails. Let’s get to it. Tell me your plan.”
I stand frozen in place for several seconds. Or minutes. Conversation begins or continues, unsure which. Luckily, my back is to the group, so there’s a chance no one will know how thoroughly his words flayed me.
Blinking away the remorse as best as I can, my consciousness returns gradually. Mia and Klein run through our options. With dogged concentration, I affix a figurative mask to shield my emotions.
Finally, I turn from the wall to face the group. Sawyer’s the only one not watching Mia and Klein. He’s watching me. The compassion in his expression is so fucking palpable it cracks my shield almost instantly, creating a fissure down one side.
Has he always been as tuned into me as he is now? Why haven’t I noticed before?
My focus shifts to Shep, who glances at me too. He conveys a silent message of support that’s eerily similar to Sawyer’s. The loyalty he shows me causes another crack in my mask.
I have to look away from them.
When I avert my focus, my eyes catch a shadow near the door and a wisp of blond hair. My feet propel me stealthily across the lair before I register the movement.
One step from the door, her sweet scent hits me, bringing a spark of hope to life. Did she know I was seconds from breaking down? Is it possible she’s here to soothe me?
Taking the last step, I sneak my head out of the doorway. Her face registers her surprise a half-second later, and a gasp escapes past her bow-shaped lips, glossy pink and pillowy soft.
But her eyes.
Red-rimmed and coated with a sheen of tears.
“What’s wrong, sugar bear?” I ask in a hushed whisper as I exit the lair and close the door behind me.
Through a sniffle, she asks, “Are you okay?”
My chest growing tight, I take her hand and guide her into Mia’s empty office. She has one.
Probably not the best time for me to ask Boss for a space of my own.
As soon as I close the door, Lettie snakes her arms around my midsection and holds me close. Instinctively, I encircle her in an embrace while trying to figure out what’s got her upset. Why is she asking if I’m okay?
With my eyes closed and her delicate smell filling my lungs, I let her touch banish all the darkness brewing inside me.
She withdraws partially from the hug, affixing her gorgeous blue eyes on me. “Well? Answer me.”
“What are you talking about?”
She puckers her lips adorably. “Don’t be obtuse, babe.” Her eyes flick in the direction of the lair. “I saw that. Well, heard it, then I peeked and saw it. It took everything in me not to barge in there and punch him in the throat. Whether he’s my dad, my boss, or both.”
I realize what she’s talking about now, but I don’t want to dwell on it. She’s seen me weak far too often lately.
“We found Yev,” I offer, aiming to distract her.
Her jawline stiffens, and her eyes darken. “Don’t try to dangle something shiny in front of me when I’m worried sick about you.”
“I’m fine, sweetness.”
She cups my cheek with her silky palm, and I lean into it, soaking up her touch for every ounce of love it’s worth. My heart hurts less when she’s with me.
Her tone overflows with affection and solace when she says, “You’re a bad liar these days. I feel your pain as acutely as my own.”
“He’s entitled to his anger.” My hands trail over her back, reveling in her presence. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”
And I mean that. I will be. Because I have her.
She tilts her chin up, offering me her lips. An invitation I’ll never turn down. “Come here, babe.”
When our mouths meet, a seed blooms in my chest, quickly growing roots. The sensation is familiar but foreign.
Hope, perhaps?
As I work my lips over hers, the sprout blossoms until it’s large enough for me to identify.
Lettie’s kiss renews my spirit, giving me something stronger than hope.
Hope is a wish. Whether wishes come true is often out of our hands. As if we’re putting our desires out in the universe for intervention by some mystical fate.
That’s not what’s flourishing inside me now.
It’s faith.
Not in a religious way, but in the form of confidence. A belief in my ability to overcome. Conviction.
As Lettie’s continued presence in my life has shown, I’m capable of restoring what was once in ruins.
If I could win her back, then I can repair the damage I’ve done with her father.
And I will.
I’d assumed we’d take out Lenkov first, then I’d focus on Big Al before marrying Lettie. Although I still believe the third should wait so nothing hangs over her head to dampen her memories, I’m convinced I should flip-flop the first two.
Holding back until Big Al was in the head space to receive news of this magnitude got me into this mess. How can I fix that? Especially if he’s not ready to listen?
Every chance I’ve had to sit with him about the Lettie bombshell has gone as bad as I always feared it would. He always brushes me aside.
I need to figure out a way to change that. An ever-growing part of me believes he wants to fix things between us; however, a larger part believes I’m not worth it for him.
And I hate that part of me.
All of this shit will have to wait a few more hours, though.
There’s a demon out there who needs to atone for his sins.And with my Redleg family, I’ll deliver him to his judgment day.