16. Russ
RUSS
The cottage door swings open before we even reach the porch. Marla stands in the doorway, and I watch her face shift from confusion to recognition. She knows something's wrong. Behind her, Sharon's face goes white.
"Get inside," Nick says.
Marla steps back, and we file into the small living room. I position myself near the door while Alex moves toward the kitchen entrance. Nick takes the center of the room. We've done this a thousand times without discussing it. Control the exits, control the situation.
Sharon huddles near the kitchen counter, her eyes darting between us like a trapped animal.
"Sharon, thank you for coming by, but I think it's best if you go now," Marla says quietly.
"No," Sharon starts, but I step forward slightly, blocking her path to Marla.
"You're going to go home," I tell her, keeping my voice level. "You're not going to talk to anyone about this. Not your family, not your friends, not anyone at the club. You understand me?"
Sharon nods frantically, her whole body trembling.
"Call me," Sharon says, reaching for her friend's hand. "Promise me you'll call me."
"I promise," Marla whispers.
We wait until her car disappears down the driveway before anyone speaks. Marla stands in the middle of her living room, arms crossed defensively. I notice her glancing toward the back hallway, calculating distances.
"Last night," Nick begins, his green eyes fixed on Marla. "One of my captains was attacked at the warehouse. Beaten nearly to death. Multiple guards injured and merchandise stolen. The security cameras were disabled."
Marla's face goes pale. “I—I’m sorry."
"The attack happened at two in the morning," Alex says calmly, moving slightly to cut off her angle to the hallway. "The exact time all three of us were here. With you."
"During sensitive merger negotiations," Nick continues. "Negotiations that are supposed to be confidential. Someone knew the security rotations. Someone knew the blind spots and exactly what they were looking for."
She blinks in confusion. It takes her a couple of minutes to understand the implication. "You think I did this?" Marla's voice rises. "You think I orchestrated some kind of attack while you were here with me?"
"The timing is suspicious," Nick says.
"Suspicious?" Marla's hands ball into fists. "You guys showed up here! I had no idea you'd be here last night."
She has a point. In fact, I didn't know Alex or Nick were going to be here, either.
"My captain is unconscious in the hospital," Nick says, his voice going colder. "The doctors don't know if he'll wake up. Four guards were injured badly enough to need medical attention."
"I don't know anything about that," Marla says.
"They also accessed confidential financial records," Alex adds. "Records that detail our merger negotiations. Records that could destabilize everything we've been building."
"I didn't do anything," Marla insists, her voice shaking now. "I don't even know what you're talking about. Merger negotiations? I'm a writer. I write blog posts about travel and food, and most anything else my clients pay me to write."
"And romance novels," I say quietly. "Don't forget your research."
Her face flushes. "That's not fair."
"Fair?" Nick's voice cuts through the room. "You want to talk about fair? My organization just lost a quarter million dollars and one of my best men might die. Fair doesn't exist right now."
"I didn't do this," Marla says again, louder this time. "I was here with you. All of you. How could I have orchestrated an attack when I was in bed with you?"
"That's exactly what we need to figure out," Alex says. "Whether you were a willing participant or an unwitting distraction."
"A distraction?" Marla's voice rises. "You think someone paid me to sleep with you?"
"We think the timing is too perfect to be a coincidence," Nick says. "We think you might have been used. Intentional or not."
"Get out." Marla points toward the door. "All of you. Get out of my house right now."
"It's not that simple," I say.
"Yes, it is." She moves toward the counter where her phone sits. "You can leave, or I can call the police."
"You're not calling anyone," Nick says flatly.
"Watch me." Marla reaches for her phone, but Alex moves faster, his hand closing around her wrist gently but firmly.
"Listen to me," Alex says, his voice controlled and reasonable. "We need to know if you're involved. We need to know if someone used you. Until we know that, you're a liability."
"I'm not a liability." Marla tries to pull her wrist free. "I'm just a writer minding my own business."
"You're a person who slept with all three of us during the most sensitive business negotiations of our lives," Nick says. "That makes you either very lucky or very dangerous."
"This is insane," Marla says. "I didn't do anything. I don't know anything."
"I believe you," I say, and I mean it. I've been watching her reactions, the genuine confusion and fear in her eyes. She's not trained. She's not acting. "But we need to be sure."
"How?" Marla demands. "How are you going to be sure?"
Alex releases her wrist and steps back. "One of us stays here with you at all times. Until we figure out what happened at the warehouse and confirm you're not involved."
"Absolutely not," Marla says.
"It's not a negotiation," Nick says. "It's the only way this doesn't escalate."
"Escalate how?" Marla's voice shakes. "What does that mean?"
"It means other organizations are going to hear about the attack," I say, keeping my voice level. "They're going to start asking questions. They're going to look for weaknesses. And when they find out about you, they're going to see you as leverage."
"Leverage?"
"They'll assume you know something," Alex says. "They won't care if you're innocent. They'll take you, hurt you, or use you to get to us."
"That's not my problem," Marla says, but her voice wavers.
"It became your problem when you got involved with us," Nick says. "Whether you meant to or not."
"So what?" Marla's anger flares again. "You're going to keep me prisoner? Lock me in my own house?"
"We're going to keep you safe," I say. "And contained. Until we know what we're dealing with."
"I don't need your protection," Marla says.
"Yes, you do," Nick says flatly. "You just don't know it yet."
Marla looks at her phone on the counter, then back at Nick. "I'm calling the police. You can't just hold me here against my will."
Nick picks up the phone before she can reach it.
"The police work for us, Marla. The chief of police has dinner at my restaurant twice a month.
We discuss business over expensive wine.
The detective who would handle your case owes me a favor after I made a problem disappear for his brother.
The mayor is connected to our organization through his son. "
"You're lying," Marla says, but she doesn't sound convinced.
"Even if you managed to call someone," Nick continues, "they'd call us before they sent anyone. We'd know you tried. And that would make things complicated."
Silence fills the cottage. I watch Marla process what we're saying, watch her realize that the normal rules don't apply here. That the systems she thought would protect her are compromised. Her face goes from angry to pale.
She looks directly at me, and her voice comes out small and shaking.
"So you really are Russian mafia." It's not a question.