Chapter Seventeen #2
The bathroom was what turned his stomach.
A bar had been mounted at the front of the tub, just above the faucet.
From the way the metal was worn, there had been metal cuffs dragged over it again and again.
It didn’t take much connecting of the dots to know the kind of torture they’d set up here for Mikhail.
But the Eldridges were gone and Mikhail with them. From the look of the place, they’d left shortly after Alethea called him—possibly as recently as this morning. They had been there, though.
“Nothing, boss.”
Nothing except the piece of paper he held in his hand. A taunt Alethea hadn’t been able to resist.
Have to be faster next time, Romanov.
She thought this was a game she could win.
He read the paper for the twelfth time. It didn’t make sense.
Even if she had a mole in his household, he and Aiden had her backed into a corner.
They had ensured her daughter was arrested, even if Mae had posted bail.
Alethea should be desperate and reckless right now in her attempts to find a way around Mae’s charges—she shouldn’t be taunting him as if she knew something he didn’t.
Dmitri snapped his fingers. “Burner phone.”
Alexei passed one over, and Dmitri wasted no time calling the one fed he believed to be beyond reproach.
John Finch was incorruptible—and had been since he was a beat cop in New York back in the seventies.
He’d eventually made the jump to the FBI’s organized crime division after his daughter was born, and he’d worked his way up the ranks.
He had a sterling reputation—at least professionally.
“John Finch.”
It took precious seconds for him to get a hold of his temper.
Like most people in his world, Dmitri loathed the man, but he’d always had a distant sort of respect for him.
No longer. Not after seeing the unforgivable skew of his priorities.
Family should matter more than a job. For John Finch, it didn’t.
But he kept all that out of his voice when he spoke. “Someone’s been making questionable decisions.”
“Dmitri Romanov.” Finch’s voice was flat. “To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of a direct call from you?”
“You didn’t do your job. You had Mae gift wrapped for you—by your daughter, no less—and she’s slipped through your fingers. Explain that.”
“I don’t have to explain shit to you.”
He strove for patience. Surrounded by evidence of his man being tortured by those bitches, there was none to be had. “Wrong. You may think you’re on the side of good in this little spat, but you’re no different than I am. The only difference between us is that I don’t let my enemies escape.”
“I had nothing to do with that choice.” Finally, some emotion bled into the man’s voice. Frustration. “The judge ultimately made that decision. There isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. It’s out of my hands.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do.” Even if Mae was technically beyond his jurisdiction, Alethea wasn’t. Nothing had happened to deter them from continuing to investigate her. “Surely you have surveillance at the very least.”
“I’ve been ordered to stand down.” Finch’s voice was so low, Dmitri thought he’d misheard him. But then he continued, “You’re on your own, Romanov.” He hung up.
Fuck.
He’d consider the implications of that later.
“We’re leaving. Now.” There was nothing to find here, and if Finch wasn’t authorized to keep tabs on the Eldridges, it meant they had leverage higher up the chain than he was.
Which meant Dmitri and his men were likely under surveillance themselves—if they hadn’t been already.
A mole and we’re being watched. Enemies on all sides.
He’d left Keira mostly unattended at home.
They didn’t run out of the apartment, but they moved at a good clip. Dmitri dialed as he slid into the backseat of the car they’d stashed close by.
Keira answered, panting slightly. “You’re alive.”
“And you as well.” He breathed a small sigh of relief.
He hadn’t really thought someone would attack the house, but at this point he couldn’t take anything for granted.
Alethea had outmaneuvered him multiple times in the last few weeks.
He couldn’t let his mistakes create an opportunity for her to hurt Keira.
She sucked in a breath. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Are you okay?” Dmitri frowned. “You’re breathing awfully hard.”
“Shut up, Russian. I’m pathetically out of shape and weaker than I want to be, but I will still kick your ass from here to Boston and back.”
The pieces clicked together. “You’re working out.”
“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.” Another gasp. “God, I know this gets easier, but it sucks right now.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Dmitri utilized the gym regularly because being in fighting shape was vital.
One never knew when it’d make the difference between life and death—winning and losing.
He couldn’t remember the last time he took more than a day or two off, so there was no getting back in shape.
Something beeped in the background and Keira coughed. “Okay, you have my full attention. Did you find him?”
“Nyet. They knew we were coming and cleared out.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Dmitri. It was a good lead.”
They’d moved on it as quickly as they feasibly could.
Those extra fifteen minutes he’d taken to find and talk to Keira hadn’t made a difference…
but he felt something akin to guilt all the same.
“We’ll find him.” Somehow. If Alethea continued to dodge him, he’d have to dangle bait enticing enough to get her to come to him.
“It’s just a matter of reexamining the problem and coming up with a new solution.
” He realized he’d never told another person how his thought process worked.
He was so used to functioning alone, but it felt like second nature to include Keira.
“We won’t let the bitch win.” She sounded almost normal now, if furious. “Come home, Dmitri. We’ll figure this out.”
Come home.
For the first time, he felt like it was actually coming home—as if that house might be termed a home instead of a residence. Keira’s presence filled it with life, and she’d barely gotten started.
He settled back against the seat, reluctant to end the call. “How did the reception planning go?”
“Well, I’m in the gym for the first time in God knows how long—that brief stint with Charlie notwithstanding. That should tell you something. I rescheduled the rest of the meeting for tomorrow. She—shit, I forgot her name.”
“Claudia.”
“Claudia.” Keira snorted. “That woman is scary. And I know scary women. Her smile gets all tight and freaky when I do something she thinks I shouldn’t be doing. I hope dental work is covered by her insurance, because she’s going to bust a tooth or two by the time we get to the party.”
He chuckled, the sound loosening something in his chest that had been claustrophobically tight since he realized the apartment was empty. “I’ll see that she gets a bonus for her trouble.”
“Do that. It can’t be easy holding my hand through this process, but she’s managed not to do anything totally fucking rude or patronizing yet, so she’s earned it.”
He usually didn’t work closely with Claudia. She was a holdover from his father, and she’d planned enough events that he spent a single meeting going over what he needed and then trusted her to take care of the rest. “What time are you meeting her again tomorrow?”
“Ten. Unless there’s something else you need me to do?”
She sounded so hopeful, he laughed again. “I know it’s getting late, but perhaps we could still have our dinner.”
“The fancy one?” He could almost see her perk up. “Wait, how long until you’re home?”
There was that word again. Home. “An hour or so, depending on traffic.”
“I can make that work. But I have to go right now. Bye.” She hung up on him.
He chuckled for the third fucking time in five minutes. What the hell was this woman doing to him? Dmitri should be furious and scheming and tearing the city apart to find Mikhail, but here he was, looking forward to a late dinner with his wife.
He closed his eyes for a long moment, and then opened them again.
He had an hour to get the ball rolling on the search.
His leads would need until tomorrow morning to begin to pan out, but at least he could start now.
Foolish to think he was getting soft simply because Keira was in his life now, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d missed more steps in the last few months than he had in his entire life leading up to the point where he encountered her at that rave.
For the first time since his father died, Dmitri had something to prove—both to himself and to whatever enemies might be watching.