Chapter 14
ANDREI
By the time I return to the safehouse, it’s already nighttime.
I’ve spent the in and out of meetings monitored closely by a team of security guards.
There are some things that just can’t be done over phone or computer.
There are people I need to look in the eye when I tell them that finding my attacker is the most important job of their lives.
Unfortunately, it’s mostly been a waste of time.
None of it has brought me closer to answers.
I step inside and remove my coat slowly, deliberately, hanging it on the back of the chair by the door.
I roll my shoulders once, loosening the stiffness that has taken up residence there, and then I open my computer.
I’ve set a virtual meeting with all my most trusted men, since being together in one room isn’t a great idea right now.
Nicolai is there, as expected, posture composed, eyes alert. Petya is also on the screen, as well as Anderson and a few other of my most trusted avtoritets.
“I want updates,” I tell them, as I lean over the kitchen table staring into the camera. “I’ve wasted an entire day taking meetings that led to exactly nothing. Give me some good fucking news for once.”
Nicolai inclines his head slightly. “We’ve tightened the perimeter. Rotated personnel. Changed routes twice today.”
“And how is that helping me find Kostya Belov?” I ask evenly.
A flicker passes through Petya’s expression.
“Kostya Belov has been difficult to locate,” he answers carefully.
That gets my attention.
I cross my arms slowly over my chest. “Explain.”
“For a man who supposedly co-owns a restaurant,” Petya continues, “he has been remarkably unavailable. He doesn’t keep a consistent schedule or have a reliable residence. His phone activity is irregular.”
I let out a short breath through my nose. “So,” I say, “either he’s paranoid, or he’s part of this.”
“Potentially both,” Nicolai adds.
My jaw tightens.
I remember Alina standing in that elevator in her party dress, eyes burning with fury and hurt. This asshole really thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants.
“He’s definitely acting strange for someone who allegedly isn’t involved in this assassination plot,” I say.
“No,” Nicolai agrees. “He either know everything about it, or he’s being used as a pawn by much more powerful family members.”
I turn away from the screen and walk toward the window, staring out at the city lights. From here, everything looks almost pretty. It’s all an illusion, of course. Manhattan is one of the grimiest cities in the world.
“We know that he proposed quickly to Alina,” I say, more to myself than to them.
Nicolai doesn’t interrupt.
“Barely six months after he met her,” I continue. “He met her through her father, apparently. He would have known about his connections to me. That isn’t a coincidence.”
“No,” Petya says. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
I turn back toward the screen.
“He knew who her father was,” I say. “Long before she did. So he could have been using her as leverage to get close to me.”
Silence settles over the group. No one says anything for a long time.
“I want him found,” I continue. “No matter what it takes. He’s our only solid lead so far. I’m tired of feeling like a prisoner in my own life.”
“We’re doing everything we can, boss,” Petya says.
“Try harder,” I reply.
I move back to the center of the room, pacing slowly now. My hands itch with the need to do something physical. To break something. To act.
“Explain to me,” I say, “how a man with no real rank, no significant assets, and no known associates manages to vanish the moment we’re looking for him.”
“Someone is helping him,” Nicolai says.
“Yes,” I agree. “Someone on the inside. Someone who knows what we’re trying to do.”
Nicolai watches me carefully through the screen. “You think the leak connects to Kostya? We’re that sure of his significance?”
“Yes,” I say shortly. “Otherwise, why have the engagement party the same night I’m in the hotel? He’s not merely a pawn, he knows something.”
He nods once.
“What about the restaurant?” I ask. “Is it legitimate, or just a front?”
“It’s clean on the surface,” Petya says. “Squeaky-clean, in fact. Almost like they’re cooking the books.”
That almost makes me smile.
“A man who cheats openly at his engagement party doesn’t usually bother hiding his financials,” I say. “Unless there’s something worth hiding.”
Nicolai’s mouth tightens slightly. I know what he’s thinking. I’ve gotten too close to this. I’m too focused on Kostya, when we aren’t even certain that he’s the big player in this. Nicolai has made his feelings about Alina more than clear over the last month.
Still, the incessant urge rises again, hot and insistent. I want to see Belov sitting across from me, stripped of confidence and excuses. I want to hear him explain himself and watch him realize that charm has limits.
“We will find him,” Petya says.
“Yes,” I reply. “You will.”
I dismiss them with a flick of my hand, and they close out of the meeting one by one, leaving Nicolai behind. He waits until he’s sure we’re the only ones left.
“This is personal for you,” he says carefully.
I meet his gaze. “It became personal the moment he used someone under my protection.”
Nicolai studies me. “You’re certain that’s the only reason?”
I don’t answer right away.
Alina’s face flashes in my mind. She’s tried to be so brave through all of this, even though it’s an impossible situation. She hasn’t complained once or demanded to go home. She’s simply accepted her fate and my protection.
“I’m responsible for her safety,” I say finally.
“Yes,” Nicolai says. “Because you involved her.”
His words feel like a punch to the gut, and I can’t deny that he’s right. I was the one who brought her back to the hotel. I was so sure that she was in danger, I put her safety at risk. She may not have been involved at all until I decided to involve her.
After he closes out of the meeting, I stand alone in the room staring at the dark screen. I run a hand through my hair and exhale slowly.
We have to find Kostya. He’s the missing link in all of this, I know it. When we find him, I’ll finally see what kind of man he truly is.
He will answer for what he did to Alina, and I will make certain he understands exactly why.
I turn off the lights and head down the hallway, my thoughts already narrowing, sharpening, focusing on the hunt ahead. This is what I do best, and I will not fail.
I stand at the narrow kitchen counter of the safehouse with my phone pressed to my ear, staring at the chipped tile floor. The place is quiet.
“Petya,” I say into the phone. “I need you to come to the safehouse.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he agrees.
I roll my shoulders once, tension popping at the base of my neck, and move into the main room, pacing again. A man doesn’t evade me this easily without help.
Oleg is here as well, standing dutifully by.
Petya arrives quickly, as he usually does.
“Sit,” I tell him.
He does.
I remain standing.
“We’re done waiting,” I say. “Belov has been allowed too much time.”
Petya nods. “Agreed.”
“I want crews dispatched,” I continue. “Every known associate. Every relative. Blood, marriage, business. I want pressure applied evenly and quietly.”
He leans forward slightly. “Alive?”
“For now,” I say.
Petya’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t comment.
“He’s been sending her things,” he says.
That catches my attention.
“What kind of things?” I ask.
Petya shifts in his chair. “Messages. Deliveries. Flowers. Jewelry.”
I stare at him. “He’s playing the remorseful fiancé,” I seethe.
“Maybe he isn’t playing.” Petya shrugs. “For all we know, this is just as real to him as it was to her. At least now. Or, maybe it’s all an act. Either way, we’ve got a truckload of this stuff.”
I exhale slowly through my nose.
“What exactly did he send?” I ask.
Petya reaches down and lifts a medium-sized box onto the table. He opens it.
Inside is an ugly gold bracelet. It’s gaudy, the kind of thing meant to impress someone who equates gold with value. I pick it up between my fingers and turn it slightly, watching the light catch on the polished surface.
It’s a tasteless gesture.
“There’s also a letter,” Oleg says.
I look at him. “Do you have it?”
He slides a folded envelope across the table.
I stare at it for a moment longer than necessary. The handwriting is neat. Careful. Practiced. I close the box and push it aside.
“Get rid of everything else,” I say.
Petya raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to give it to her?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “At the very least, I want to see what the little weasel has to say.”
“And you want to see how she reacts,” Oleg adds.
I don’t deny it.
“She should know what kind of man he really is,” I say. “Take care of everything else. And get someone watching her building. Maybe we can intercept him when he tries to leave another gift.”
Petya nods and leaves. I pick up the envelope again, turning it over once in my hands. I should wait and let Alina read it. I should respect her privacy in that small way. Then again, the letter could have invaluable clues to help the situation at hand.
The first paragraph is exactly what I expect. It’s full of apologies and regret and words about love and misunderstanding. He’s trying to rewrite history, as if he didn’t break her heart. I skim, jaw tightening with every line. It’s sentimental garbage.
Then I see the sentence I need to convince me of his role in all of this.
I promise I’ll rescue you. We’ll be together again soon. Forever.
I read it twice. He uses the word rescue. Like she’s being held captive, against her will. So he knows that she’s with me. Which means he isn’t running and hiding. He’s waiting. He’s delusional enough to believe that when he finally steps into the light again, it will be on his terms.
I tighten my grip on the letter. He has no idea what kind of man he’s dealing with.