CHAPTER 14 – Marcus
A Month Later
"Sir." Gabriel enters. "The Ivanov meeting is confirmed for three. And this just came in."
He places a manila folder on my desk. The label reads simply: "Varela."
I open it, scanning the contents—surveillance photos, immigration records, financial transactions. The ghost I've been hunting for two months has finally cast a shadow.
"He's in Caracas?"
"Was." Gabriel indicates a timestamp on the most recent photograph. "He crossed into Colombia three days ago, traveling under the name David Renault on a Canadian passport."
I study the image. Cody Varela has grown a beard, dyed his hair, but those eyes—sharp, calculating, restless—are unmistakable. The same eyes that watch me from across the breakfast table each morning, though his sister has learned to hide her calculations better.
"Any contact with the Delgados?"
"None we can trace. He seems to be avoiding their territories."
"Smart." I tap the photo thoughtfully. "He knows they want his head as much as I do."
"Should we move on him?"
I consider the question. Cody's capture would solve several problems at once. The missing item. The Delgado threat. My wife's lingering attachment to a past she claims to have left behind.
"Not yet. Monitor his movements. I want to know his destination before we intercept."
"And Mrs. Drake?" Gabriel's face remains professionally blank. "Will you tell her?"
"Eventually." I close the folder. "When the information serves a purpose beyond satisfying her curiosity."
After Gabriel leaves, I remain at my desk, considering the best approach to this new development. Cody's reappearance complicates matters. He's a loose thread in the tapestry I've woven around Leona, a potential disruption to her integration into my world.
The intercom buzzes. "Marcus?" Leona's voice, confident enough now to use my first name without hesitation. "Do you have a minute?"
"Come in."
She enters wearing tailored black slacks and a cream silk blouse—elegant, professional attire that marks another subtle evolution. Gone are the casual clothes of her former life, replaced by wardrobe choices that reflect her new status.
"I need to discuss something with you." She takes the seat across from me, crossing her legs with deliberate poise.
"I'm listening."
"I want to go back to work."
Not what I expected. I lean back, studying her expression. "At the crime lab?"
"Yes." She meets my gaze steadily. "It's been almost two months since I was there. Any longer, and I'll lose my position entirely."
"You don't need to work."
"It's not about money." Her fingers drum lightly on the armrest. "It's about purpose. Identity."
"Your identity has changed."
"Parts of it." She leans forward slightly. "But not the forensic scientist. Not the analyst. That's still who I am, Marcus."
Interesting. Not a rejection of her life with me, but an attempt to merge her past and present selves. To have both worlds without sacrificing either.
"The security concerns remain," I remind her. "The Delgados still want you."
"And I'm still your wife." She gestures to the diamond ring on her finger. "Isn't that supposed to be protection enough?"
She's using the very narrative I created—the untouchable status of Mrs. Drake—to leverage greater freedom.
"Marriage offers a certain security," I concede. "But it's not absolute. Especially in your case."
"Then provide additional security. Whatever you deem necessary." She smiles slightly. "I'm not asking to return without precautions. I'm asking for a chance to prove I can navigate both worlds."
I study her for several long moments. This request isn't unexpected—Leona is too intelligent, too driven to remain purely ornamental. And having her visible in professional circles again would strengthen our public narrative.
"I have a counterproposal." I check my watch. "Accompany me to my meeting with the Ivanovs this afternoon. See how you handle yourself in the business side of my world. Then we'll discuss your return to the crime lab."
Wariness flickers across her features. "What kind of meeting?"
"Import negotiations. Nothing violent." I offer a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Just conversation."
She hesitates, weighing the offer. "And if I pass this test?"
"Then we'll establish parameters for your return to work."
"Deal." She extends her hand across the desk.
I take it, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. "Wear the navy suit with the white blouse. Professional, but imposing."
She withdraws her hand with a slight roll of her eyes. "Still dictating my wardrobe?"
"Still offering guidance in unfamiliar territory." I stand, signaling the end of our conversation. "The Ivanovs respect power, including how it presents itself. You'll want every advantage."
After she leaves, I return to the surveillance photos of Cody. His reappearance isn't coincidental. Nothing in my world happens by chance. He's surfacing now for a reason—either because he feels safe enough to emerge or because he's desperate enough to risk exposure.
Either way, the board is shifting. New pieces are entering play.
The question is whether Leona remains my queen—or becomes a pawn in her brother's game.
***
The Coleman Building houses the more legitimate facades of my various enterprises—investment firms, import companies, property management offices. On the surface, everything is regulation-compliant, tax-paying, utterly mundane.
Twenty floors below the polished reception areas, however, lies the true center of operations.
John Ivanov waits in conference room three, flanked by two guards trying very hard to look like business associates rather than the former Spetsnaz operatives they are. John himself is impeccably dressed, his silver hair trimmed precisely, his smile practiced and empty.
"Marcus." He rises, extending his hand. "A pleasure, as always."
"John." I shake his hand firmly. "Thank you for accommodating the short notice."
His gaze shifts to Leona, curiosity evident. "And this must be your new bride. The rumors didn't exaggerate her beauty."
"Leona, meet John Ivanov. He handles our Eastern European imports."
"Mrs. Drake." John takes her hand, pressing his lips to it with old-world formality. "A genuine honor. Your husband keeps you well-hidden from business associates."
"I've been adjusting to married life." Leona delivers the line perfectly, her smile revealing nothing. "But I'm taking a more active interest in Marcus's enterprises now."
"Fascinating." John's eyes flick to me, questioning. "I wasn't aware you were bringing family into the business."
"Leona has a unique perspective that occasionally proves valuable." I guide her to a seat beside mine at the conference table. "Shall we begin?"
The meeting proceeds with surface cordiality masking lethal undercurrents. We discuss shipping routes, import regulations, distribution channels—all legitimate-sounding topics that cloak conversations about weapons, contraband, and territory.
Leona observes more than participates, though when John directs questions her way, she responds with careful precision. She reveals no ignorance and never oversteps her knowledge. I feel a surprising flicker of pride at her performance.
"The Colombian situation concerns me," John says eventually, tapping his gold pen against the table. "Unexpected players entering established territories. Creating vulnerability for all of us."
He doesn't look at Leona, but his meaning is clear. Cody's movements haven't gone unnoticed by the Russians either.
"I'm monitoring the situation," I reply evenly. "It won't impact our arrangements."
"Forgive me, but I require more assurance than that." John's smile hardens. "If certain... assets... have been compromised, my associates will need to reevaluate our position."
"Nothing has been compromised." My tone drops several degrees. "The matter will be resolved shortly."
"By you? Or by the Delgados?" John's gaze slides to Leona. "They seem unusually motivated regarding certain connections."
Beside me, Leona tenses almost imperceptibly. Her eyes remain calm, but I feel the slight shift in her posture.
"The Delgados are becoming increasingly irrelevant to this conversation." I maintain eye contact with John, challenging him to press further. "Unless you've developed new allegiances I should be aware of?"
John's guards shift subtly, hands dropping closer to concealed weapons. My own security team, positioned at the door, responds in kind.
Leona speaks into the tension. "Gentlemen." Her voice is calm but carries unexpected authority. "I believe we were discussing import channels through Rotterdam, not speculating about cartel politics."
John blinks, surprised by her intervention. Then he laughs—a genuine sound that breaks the dangerous current. "Your wife has excellent timing, Marcus. And a diplomatic touch you've always lacked."
The meeting concludes thirty minutes later with terms largely favorable to my interests. As we prepare to leave, John pulls me aside momentarily.
"She's not what I expected," he murmurs. "I thought you'd married a trophy. Instead, you found a partner."
"Disappointed?"
"Intrigued." He glances toward Leona, who is engaged in surprisingly fluent conversation with one of his guards in what sounds like passable Russian. "She understands our world better than she should for someone so new to it."
"Leona is a quick study."
"Clearly." His expression turns serious. "Watch the Colombian situation, Marcus. Things are moving there that concern us all. Your brother-in-law has made powerful enemies."
"Brother-in-law," I correct smoothly. "Leona's past associations are just that—past."
John's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "If only the past stayed where we left it, eh?"
In the car afterward, Leona remains silent until we're well away from the Coleman Building.
"That was about Cody, wasn't it?" She turns to me, eyes sharp. "The 'Colombian situation.'"
I consider deflecting, then decide against it. She's earned a degree of honesty. "Yes."
"You've found him."
"Recently."
Her fingers twist her wedding ring, a tell she hasn't eliminated yet. "Were you going to tell me?"
"When I had something definitive to report."
"And now?"
I take her hand, stilling the nervous movement. "Now I know he's moving north through Colombia. Traveling under a Canadian passport. Avoiding Delgado territory."
"He's running from them too."
"It appears so."
"But you're still hunting him."
"He has something that puts you at risk as long as it remains in play."
She looks out the window at the passing city, her reflection thoughtful. "The meeting today—was that really a test? Or did you need me there to send a message to the Russians?"
"Both."
"Did I pass?"
"With distinction." I stroke my thumb across her wrist, feeling her pulse quicken. "John was impressed. So was I."
She turns back to me. "So about returning to work..."
"We'll discuss parameters." I release her hand. "Though I suspect you may find your professional interests... evolving."
"What does that mean?"
"It means today wasn't just a test for the Russians' benefit." I watch understanding dawn across her features. "It was also for you to see whether the sterile confines of a crime lab still satisfy you after tasting real influence."
She doesn't argue. Doesn't deny it. Instead, she looks back out the window, at the city that increasingly belongs to both of us rather than just me.
"I want both," she says finally. "For now."
I allow myself a small smile, unseen by her. "For now."
Because we both know the truth, whether she's ready to admit it fully or not. The deeper she steps into my world—into our world—the less appealing her former life becomes.
Power, once tasted, is not easily relinquished.
And Leona Drake is developing quite an appetite.