Chapter 42
Ryder
“What do you mean you don’t know who Mr C is?” I snapped, and Hendrix glanced at Roman like I was the problem.
“You caused them to drive off an edge, killing one of the men and greatly wounding the other two,” Hendrix replied like a judgmental arsehole. “You could have killed Violet.”
Okay. Maybe I was the problem. But in my defence, I didn’t think they’d evade me or drive so recklessly. So in all honesty, it was their fault.
“Max killed the driver, not me, and Violet’s just fine.” Aside from her existential crisis, shoving me away when I may or may not have been eavesdropping, and her current decision to barricade herself in her room.
“The sole survivor, Christopher Van Der, was able to give us some insight once Maxim showed him his intestines,” Roman said, his voice flat enough to make Hendrix’s brow lift.
Truthfully, I barely noticed his lack of empathy anymore. He wasn’t completely emotionally shallow, just wired differently.
So sometimes he had to mimic others’ emotions because yes, crying over your dead grandmother is the typical, expected response. Getting irritated at everyone else for crying over her, however, was not.
But as I kept reminding him, being neurotypical was boring anyway.
I eyed Maxim, who looked at me without blinking. Now he was the one we should all be concerned about.
“Surely, this Christopher guy gave you something?” I asked, that restless itch under my skin growing more unbearable the longer we waited. I had to do something.
“Hendrix has a lead,” Roman said, dipping his head in a single nod.
“Let me guess, in Germany?”
“Ty menya zaebal,” Maxim muttered, and I simply stuck my middle finger up without even looking at him.
“Shh, the adults are talking.”
“I ran the details through Police National Database, and we had a hit,” Hendrix added, his arms folded as he leaned against the far wall. “The driver and the dead guy were just generic Mercs. But the one in the suit, Christopher Van Der, is tied to known traffickers.”
“This is why you’re my favourite… wait, traffickers? As in…”
“Human.”
Rage flared hot in my chest, thickening the air around us. Shit. Just as Aeris had stated.
“What do your contacts say?” I asked, but Hendrix only shook his head.
“That’s all I’ve got. There’s nothing—”
“What do you mean, that’s it?”
Hendrix’s gaze sharpened. “If I push any further, I’ll blow my cover. If that happens, I risk everything.”
“Wouldn’t want to lose our favourite corrupt detective,” Roman muttered.
He bared his teeth. “Fuck you, Antonov.”
A knock on the door, stealing my attention. Violet opened it slowly, the rising tension deflating at her presence.
“Hey, blondie,” I said, reaching over to touch her arm.
She looked up at me, colour tinging her cheeks as everyone’s eyes were on her.
“How’s your mum?”
She looked like she’d been crying, the skin under her eyes blotchy. “Sleeping,” she said, clearing her throat before adding, “Am I able to speak to Mr Antonov?”
Hendrix left without question, but Violet’s eyes lifted expectantly.
“Alone,” she added.
I bit back the sharp sting of jealousy that twisted low in my stomach. I don’t do jealousy, and yet I glared at Roman before reluctantly leaving.
Violet
Ryder was angry; I could tell by the way his jaws stiffened and the sharp glare he shot the guy sitting in the back. I’ve never met Roman Antonov, but Elena had warned me about him. Not that she needed to warn me, of course. His presence alone radiated danger.
Roman watched me with blank, green eyes, only responding when I asked to speak to him alone. Even now, as Ryder’s lingering touch burned my skin and the door at my back clicked closed, Roman watched me as if I was a bug that may do a trick.
My gaze drifted to the older man standing to his right, his expression so blank he could’ve been carved from stone.
“Maxim won’t repeat anything you say in this room,” Roman said, his deep voice somehow suffocating the small space.
“But you would?”
Roman’s upper lip twitched, and he cocked his head, as if I’d suddenly gotten interesting. “Do you know who I am?”
I glanced at Maxim once more, noting the gun on his hip and the way he stood with his legs slightly apart. The same gun I’d witness kill a man.
“No,” I answered honestly. “But I’m told you might be able to help me.”
“Help you how?”
“I need protection for my mum.”
Roman exchanged a look with Maxim, whose expression didn’t shift an inch. “From the people chasing her?”
I nodded. “I need to keep her safe.”
“That’s a lot to ask of someone you don’t know.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why not ask Ryder?”
“Are you able to help or not?”
Roman chuckled, leaning back in the desk chair until it gave a low squeak.
The sight was almost absurd, a man his size swallowing up the chair, legs spread wide like he owned the room.
He was bigger than Ryder, but only just. And while Ryder’s charm could capture a room’s attention, it was Roman’s presence that filled it.
“I can offer protection for you both, but I have a condition of my own.”
I ignored the nervous way my stomach twisted, because I knew nothing was ever free. “What do you want in return?”