Alex
I catch the movement in my peripheral vision before either Russ or Nick notices.
Marla stands in the hallway just beyond the kitchen doorway, her body pressed against the wall like she's trying to make herself invisible.
Her red hair is messy from sleep, falling around her shoulders.
She's wearing an oversized t-shirt that hangs to mid-thigh, her bare legs pale in the dim morning light.
But it's her face that tells me everything I need to know.
Her blue eyes are wide, her expression shifting from sleepy confusion to something far more dangerous: understanding. She's connecting pieces in her head. She's smart. Too fucking smart for her own good sometimes.
"Take this outside," I say quietly, cutting off whatever Russ was about to say next.
Nick's green eyes flick toward the hallway, and I see the moment he spots her too. His expression doesn't change, but his posture shifts slightly. Russ follows Nick's gaze and freezes when he sees Marla standing there.
"Now," I add, my tone leaving no room for argument.
Russ opens his mouth like he's going to protest, but Nick is already moving toward the back door.
He understands what I'm doing without needing explanation.
Russ hesitates another second before he follows Nick outside.
The door closes behind them with a soft click that sounds too loud in the sudden silence.
Marla doesn't move from the hallway. She's still pressed against the wall, her hands flat against the faded floral wallpaper like she needs the support to stay upright. Her breathing is shallow and controlled, the kind of breathing people do when they're trying not to panic.
I lean back against the kitchen counter and cross my arms over my chest, giving her space. Three mugs are scattered across the small table in the center of the room, evidence of the conversation she interrupted.
"How much did you hear?" I ask, keeping my voice calm and even.
She pushes away from the wall slowly, her movements careful like she's testing whether her legs will hold her weight. "Enough."
"Come sit down."
"I don't want to sit down." Her voice is steady despite the fear I can see in her eyes. "I want you to tell me what 'on the payroll' means."
I study her for a long moment, taking in the defensive set of her shoulders, the way her hands have curled into fists at her sides, and the slight tremor in her jaw. Marla stands her ground and demands answers. It's one of the things that drew me to her in the first place.
"It means exactly what you think it means," I say finally. "The mayor takes money from us in exchange for favors."
"What kind of favors?"
"Permits approved without questions. Investigations that disappear.
Port access that shouldn't be granted. Police cooperation when we need it.
" I pause, watching her process each item on the list. "The Bratva has spent years building relationships with city officials.
The mayor isn't special. He's just one of many. "
Her face goes even paler, and I see her swallow hard. "How long?"
"About eight years. Since before he was mayor, actually. We helped fund his first campaign."
"Jesus Christ." She moves into the kitchen finally, her bare feet silent on the worn linoleum floor. She leans against the counter opposite me, putting the small room between us. Her arms wrap around her middle like she's trying to hold herself together. "And Zach?"
"What about him?"
"Does he know? About his father taking money from the Russian mafia?"
I consider the question carefully. "I don't know. The mayor keeps his business dealings separate from his family as much as possible. It's safer that way."
"But it's possible."
"It's possible," I agree.
She's quiet for a moment, staring at the floor between us. I can practically see her mind working. When she looks up again, her blue eyes are sharp with understanding.
"That's why Zach got away with everything," she says quietly. "When I tried to report him for stalking and threatening me, the police did nothing. They took my statement and then nothing happened. I thought they just didn't believe me or didn't care. But it wasn't that, was it?"
"Probably not."
"His father made it disappear." Her voice is flat now, emotionless. "The mayor used his connections to protect his son."
"That would be my guess, yes."
"Fuck." The word comes out sharp and bitter.
She pushes away from the counter and starts pacing the small kitchen, her movements agitated.
"I left my entire life behind because of him.
I moved, changed my phone number, and cut off contact with everyone I knew.
I thought I was being paranoid, but I was so scared he'd find me again.
And the whole time, his father had the resources to track me down whenever he wanted. "
I watch her pace, noting the way her hands shake slightly. Her breathing has gotten faster, the rapid breaths making her breasts rise and fall, drawing my attention. She's spiraling, working herself up into panic, and I need to redirect her before she loses control completely.
"Marla," I say, my voice cutting through her rambling thoughts. "Look at me."
She stops pacing and turns to face me. "We don't know for certain that the mayor has been tracking you," I continue.
"We don't know if Zach showing up at your cottage was coincidence or if someone told him where to find you.
Or even if it was him that left the footprints outside.
We don't know if this has anything to do with us or if it's completely separate. "
"But you think it's connected." It's not a question.
"I think the timing is suspicious as hell," I admit.
"You sleep with three Bratva pakhans during sensitive merger negotiations.
A warehouse gets hit the same night we're all distracted at your cottage.
And now we find out your ex-boyfriend is the son of a politician we've had in our pocket for years. Yeah, I think it's connected."
"You think I'm working with them." Her voice goes cold. "You think I'm some kind of spy or plant."
"I think you're either incredibly unlucky or you're playing a game none of us have figured out yet."
The words hang in the air between us, harsh and unforgiving. I watch her face carefully, looking for any sign of deception, or guilt, or fear that would confirm my suspicions. But all I see is hurt and anger.
"I'm not working with anyone," she says, her voice shaking with emotion. "I didn't even know who you were when I slept with you. I didn't know about the Bratva or the merger or any of this shit. I was just trying to get research for a fucking book."
"I know."
"Then why are you—" She stops, her eyes narrowing. "You don't believe me."
"I want to believe you," I correct. "But I've survived forty-five years in this world by not taking anything at face value. People lie. They manipulate. They use sex and emotion as weapons. I've seen it happen too many times to count."
"So what now?" she demands. "You're going to keep me locked up here until you decide whether I'm telling the truth?"
"No." I push away from the counter and move closer to her, closing the distance between us.
She doesn't back away, which I respect. "Now I'm going to find out everything there is to know about you, Zach, and the mayor.
I'm going to trace every connection, follow every lead, and figure out exactly what the fuck is going on. "
"And if you decide I'm guilty?"
"Then we'll deal with that when the time comes."
She stares at me for a long moment, her blue eyes searching my face. "I didn't do anything wrong," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I hope you're right."
The kitchen falls silent except for the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of Russ and Nick talking outside.
Marla wraps her arms around herself again, and I notice for the first time how small she looks standing in the middle of her outdated kitchen wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. My chest tightens uncomfortably.
I pull out my phone and start typing notes. Names, dates, connections. Everything Marla has told me about Zach and the mayor. Everything we know about the warehouse attack and Arina's involvement. The pieces are there, scattered across the board. I just need to figure out how they fit together.
"What are you doing?" Marla asks.
"Making a list." I don't look up from my phone. "People I need to talk to. Records I need to pull. Surveillance I need to review."
"You're really going to investigate me."
"I'm going to investigate everyone. You, Zach, the mayor, Arina, every fucking person who might be connected to this mess. I'm going to turn over every rock and shine a light into every dark corner until I find the truth."
"And if the truth is that I'm innocent?"
"Then you'll be safe." I finally look up from my phone, meeting her eyes across the table. "And if you're not innocent, you'll wish you'd never heard of any of us."
The threat hangs in the air between us, cold and clear. Marla doesn't flinch. She holds my gaze, her chin lifted in defiance, and I feel that uncomfortable tightness in my chest again.
She's either the best liar I've ever met or she's exactly what she appears to be—a woman who got caught up in something far bigger and more dangerous than she ever imagined.
I need to know which.
The back door opens and Russ steps inside, his expression grim. "We've got a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
"The kind that requires all three of us." He glances at Marla, then back at me. "Now."
I stand, draining the last of my coffee. Marla watches me with those wide blue eyes, and I can see the questions forming on her lips. But I don't have time for questions right now.
"Stay inside," I tell her. "Lock the doors after we leave. Don't open them for anyone except us."
"Alex—"
"I mean it, Marla. No one."
I follow Russ outside before she can argue, pulling the door closed behind me. Nick is standing near the treeline, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression darker than I've seen it in years.
This is bad. Whatever this is, it's bad.
I'm going to find out everything about Marla Paddington's past, starting today.