Chapter 14 Dimitri
DIMITRI
The paddock is crowded when I walk Katya out.
It's early, but I know there's enough visibility here to lend credibility to this moment.
It's essential for her cover and we have to sell it.
Grooms are moving between stalls, trainers shouting orders, the usual chaos of a race day is beginning to build, and that's perfect.
I need witnesses.
I need this to be seen.
Katya walks three paces ahead of me, her shoulders tense.
She knows what's coming.
We rehearsed it last night in the apartment, ran through every word, every movement.
But rehearsal is different from execution.
Rehearsal doesn’t have an audience.
I spot three men near the far rail pretending to watch the horses.
One leans against the fence, his phone in hand.
Another smokes a cigarette, his eyes scanning the paddock.
The third stands with his arms crossed, his gaze locked on me.
One of them was at the poker game, and I don't recognize the other two, but given what I know about the Radich crew, I believe those men are the target audience.
"Stop," I bark, grabbing her arm to spin her around.
I make my face a mask of pure rage.
Katya stops, turning to face me.
Her expression is defiant, but I can see the fear underneath.
She's practiced to make this absolutely convincing, and I could fuck her right here, the way she turns me on.
I reach into my jacket, pull out a thick roll of rubles, and throw it at her feet.
The bills scatter across the dirt.
"Take it," I say, my voice loud enough to carry.
"Take your money and get the hell off my property."
She stares down at the cash, then back at me.
"You are firing me?"
"You stole from me."
I step closer, looming over her.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I'd let it slide?"
"I didn't steal anything," she snaps, her voice rising.
"You're a liar and a thief. That's all you've ever been."
I gesture toward the gate.
"Pick up the money and leave. Now."
She bends down, gathering the bills with shaking hands.
Her face is flushed, her eyes bright with anger.
Real anger, not performed.
I can see it in the way her jaw clenches, the way her fingers curl around the rubles.
Katya should've been an actress with the way she can tap into her real emotion on command.
It's intoxicating and it casts a spell on me so that I almost make a mistake.
"You're a bastard," she hisses.
"And you are done."
I pull the gun from my waistband, aiming it at her feet.
"Go. Before I decide you're not worth the trouble of letting you walk away."
Her eyes widen.
For a moment, I think she might break character.
But then she scrambles backward, clutching the money to her chest.
I fire three shots into the dirt at her feet.
The sound cracks across the paddock, grabbing everyone's attention.
Horses rear in their stalls.
Grooms shout.
Katya stumbles, then turns and runs toward the gate.
I'm going to have to give Rolan a sound answer for this, but the plan seems to be working.
I lower the gun, watching her go, as do my three fellow watchers.
My heart is pounding, adrenaline surging through my veins.
But I believe it’s worked.
The performance was convincing.
Now I just have to wait and see if they take the bait.
I glance toward the far rail.
The three men are still there, watching.
One of them is speaking into his phone.
The other two are focused on Katya's retreating figure.
I holster the gun and walk back toward the training office, ignoring the stares from the crew.
Gavriil is waiting by the door, staring at me.
I can't read him right now, but I assume he has his doubts.
I haven't let any of my men in on this job I'm doing, but he knows Katya is staying at my house.
Still, the fact that I've turned her loose in a public way instead of just killing her and having him dispose of the body actually works in my favor.
He'll think I've broken up with someone I care about.
It's harder to kill the ones you love.
The thought strikes me as ironic as he steps out to greet me.
"That was loud," he says.
"Shut up," I spit as I push past him into the office, closing the door behind us.
"Did you see the watchers?"
"Three of them. Far rail. One on the phone. Why?"
"Who are they?"
I move to the window, watching the paddock.
Katya's gone now, out of sight, so I can't tell what's happening, but that tracking chip in her pendant will lead me to her if things go haywire.
"One of them is a Radich. I'm guessing the others are his buddies… She stole from you?" he asks, narrowing his eyes, and I scowl at him.
I either let him in or cut him out, but if I need help with her, then Gavriil is the only one I trust.
"It's a job. Okay? That’s all you need to know. Just do as I say, tell no one, and the job will go off without a hitch."
Gavriil nods at me, but his expression shows skepticism.
I say nothing more, and he leaves without another word as I sit down at my desk.
The plan is in motion.
All I can do now is wait.
It's agonizing, but I move through my day trying not to think about her being out there alone.
I've checked the tracking chip several times and it's working fine, still moving every now and then.
She's been at a bakery downtown, then to a coffee shop, past a bowling alley, and the most recent check showed her moving toward the industrial sector of the city.
I have no clue if our plan worked or if she's just meandering around Moscow, and it grates on my nerves.
I'm snippy and short with all of my men and focus on the task of trying to vet my own employees over and over.
None of them had the opportunity to change the schedule again, and I don't know where to look, so I'm beginning to think that was a lingering fluke from Rodion's fuckups.
But none of this, however important it is, can distract me from worrying about her.
I check the time again.
One hour until Katya checks in, and my phone rings with a call from Gavriil.
"What?" I snap, totally on edge.
"We intercepted a call on that phone we cloned. Between Daniil and someone higher up. Sending you the recording now, Boss. You'll want to hear this."
The line goes dead and a moment later, the file comes through as a text.
I download it and press play.
The audio is grainy, distorted by distance or interference.
But I can make out voices.
Two men.
One is Daniil.
The other is older, his voice more gravelly.
"—girl is clean," Daniil is saying.
"Fired by Vetrov this morning. Everyone saw it. She has debts and nowhere to go."
"And you trust her?" the older voice asks.
"I trust that she's desperate enough."
There's a pause then the older voice says, "Run her through the usual tests. If she holds up, bring her in. We need someone on the inside."
"What about the other issue?" Daniil asks.
"Still looking, but if what we heard is true, old blood runs deeper than money. It's a name worth more than cash. If she is who they think she is, we use that."
My chest constricts.
Old blood.
A name worth more than money.
They're talking about Katya.
But what do they know?
The recording ends.
I replay it twice, listening for any detail I might've missed.
But there's nothing.
Just the cryptic reference to old blood and a name.
It makes no sense to me at all.
I call Gavriil back and before he even greets me, I'm grilling him.
"Who is the other man?"
"Don’t know, Boss. Voice doesn’t match anyone in our database."
I end the call and sit back down, my mind racing.
They know something about Katya and they think it’s valuable.
It's something I don't even know and I had a source dig up everything they could on her.
Old blood?
A name?
I run through everything I know about her.
She's a thief—a con artist.
No family ties that she's mentioned other than her mother in Perm, but I found that out on my own.
No connections to the Bratva.
She came to Moscow alone, drifting from job to job, hostel to hostel.
But what if there's more?
What if she has a history?
I need answers, but first, I need to keep her safe.
I stand and move to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to see the street.
It's empty and quiet, but that doesn’t always mean anything.
I always trust my gut, and now it's feeling off.
It tightens down and makes me want to go find her and bring her back to ask her these important questions.
I let the curtain fall and return to the desk.
The office feels smaller now, the walls closing in.
If the Radich crew knows something about Katya that I don't know, I know they'll use it.
And if it's something dangerous for her, I'll never forgive myself.
I rub a hand across my forehead and open my laptop.
It's time to dig.
Because whatever this business is about a name and old money, I need to know about it.
And I hope this isn't hindsight, because I won't lose her.
If those bastards lay a hand on her…