Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Henry
“You texted,” I said as I let myself into the pool house on my property, the smell of stale coffee greeting me.
A week ago, Blake had been lying in a hospital bed, covered with cuts and bruises.
Now he sat hunched over his laptop, looking more like himself than he had since I left him at that fishing cabin to die. He still hadn’t returned to his usual attire of an all-black suit, but his sweatpants and t-shirt were black.
The scar running along his brow was healing, the burns on his arms had begun to scab over, and the bruising around his jaw had faded to yellow.
Judging by the empty coffee cups littering every available surface, he was slowly returning to his normal, restless self.
“I did,” Blake responded without looking up as his fingers flew across the keyboard.
“What did you find?” I asked. “Anything useful?”
A grin spread across his face. “I’d say so.”
I crossed the room and stopped beside the kitchen table where he’d set up his temporary workstation.
“For shits and giggles, I decided to revisit the night Alexei Volkov was killed. Mikhail’s father. The former Pakhan.”
“I know who he is,” I assured him. “I’ve done my research on the major players in the Bratva so I know who I’m dealing with.”
“Then you’re probably also aware that the official story says Los Reyes del Puerto took him out. Some sort of feud over their drug distribution agreement, which prompted Alexei’s brother, Nikolai, to launch a bloody campaign of retaliation and take out anyone even remotely connected to Los Reyes.”
“I’m familiar with everything that went down,” I replied.
“I pulled surveillance footage from the port on the night Alexei died.”
“And?”
“It was corrupted.”
“Let me guess.” I folded my arms. “You fixed it?”
“Whoever tried to wipe it was a fucking amateur.”
Blake hit the spacebar, and a grainy video filled the monitor. Rows of shipping containers stretched endlessly beneath floodlights as a man in a tailored suit moved into view, two bodyguards flanking him.
The man in the suit was clearly Alexei Volkov, but the others weren’t easily discernible. Still, something about them felt familiar, but they were still too far away, their faces obscured. The second they grew closer, recognition hit instantly. One of them was the same man who’d abducted Ariana.
The same bastard I’d seen watching Sarah in the last video she ever posted.
My jaw tightened as the second guard stepped into view.
Another familiar face.
One of the men I’d killed in Maine.
Several seconds passed with nothing happening, and I was about to ask Blake what was going on. Finally, three more men entered the frame.
Nikolai Volkov was in the front, two guards flanking him.
Two more faces I recognized.
Two more bodies buried somewhere in the Maine wilderness.
I stepped closer to the screen, squinting as I tried to read their lips, albeit unsuccessfully.
“What are they saying?”
“There’s no sound. Just keep watching.”
I leaned closer, studying their body language, tension radiating from the two brothers as they argued.
Then one of Alexei’s own guards grabbed him and forced him to his knees.
“What the hell...” My eyes widened when Nikolai reached into his coat and pulled out a handgun, raising it and shooting his brother in the head.
Blake paused the footage as the Bratva soldiers carried Alexei into a nearby storage container while Nikolai walked off.
“So it wasn’t gang-related,” I exhaled.
“Most definitely an inside job. I’m guessing a power play.”
“How very Hamlet of him.”
“But unlike in Hamlet, Nikolai didn’t count on the majority of the brotherhood backing Mikhail for Pakhan instead, so his plan backfired.”
I nodded, studying the paused screen for several more seconds before shifting my attention to Blake. “What does this have to do with Sarah?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why—”
“But this?” He pointed at the screen. “This might keep you alive if you still insist on following through with this suicide mission. You give Mikhail information about his father’s real killer and maybe, just maybe, he not only lets you live but gives you information about the Bratva’s arrangement with Victor. ”
It wasn’t foolproof, but it was better than what I had just a few minutes ago.
“This is good, Blake.” I squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Considering I’m still sidelined, it’s the least I can do.”
I parted my lips to respond when a knock cut through the room.
Blake hit a button, darkening the screen as I hurried to answer the door.
“I brought some lunch for Blake,” Ariana said, holding a tray with a bowl of soup along with a sandwich, the smell of tomatoes, garlic, and fresh basil invading my senses as she stepped past me.
“It smells incredible, Ariana,” Blake replied, rubbing his stomach.
“You shouldn’t be staring at screens all day.” She set the tray on the table, her gaze landing on the monitor. “Not when you’re still recovering from a concussion.”
“I’m fine. I’m already feeling better than when I left the hospital.” He ate a spoonful of soup, his eyes all but rolling into the back of his head. “Probably because your cooking is infinitely better than hospital food. But you still don’t have to cook for me. I can manage on my own.”
“I’ve seen what you consider food,” she scoffed. “I’m sorry, but no self-respecting Italian can allow you to eat sauce out of a jar. Next thing I know you’ll be eating those packages of ramen noodles, too.”
“What’s wrong with ramen?” I asked.
“Nothing. I love ramen. But not that pre-packaged stuff filled with sodium. If you want ramen, I’ll make it for the two of you. But the real deal.”
I brushed a kiss to her temple. “Sounds amazing.”
“Good.” She pinned Blake with a pointed glare. “Now eat. And take a break from the screens. You need to rest.” She turned her ire on me. “Not work.”
Blake mock saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
She looked between us once more before her gaze lingered on the monitor yet again, the suspicion and curiosity seeming to grow with every passing second.
Finally, she turned and walked out of the pool house, closing the door behind her.
Silence filled the space for several seconds, neither one of us speaking.
“Do you even understand how damn lucky you are to have her?” Blake remarked, cutting through the quiet.
My gaze drifted toward the window, my lips curving as my eyes fell on Ariana walking toward the main house.
“Every time I look at her. Or think about her.”
“And you still want to do this.?” Blake pressed.
I blew out a long breath. I wished there were another way to get answers. If there were anything else I could do that might lead me to Sarah, I’d do it.
But right now, the only lead we had was the Bratva. And I needed to follow it.
Even if it meant putting my life at risk.
“I have to,” I finally answered.
“I know.” Blake sighed heavily. “Just thought I’d give it one last try.”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “You should know by now. When I make up my mind, there’s no changing it.”
“Don’t remind me. Stubborn ass.”
He hit a button on his laptop, and the monitor lit up again, pulling my attention back toward the surveillance footage on the screen.
Toward the leverage that might get me answers.
Somewhere out there was the truth about Sarah.
And if there was even the smallest chance she was alive, no risk was too great.
Not even risking the future I’d only just begun to imagine with Ariana.