Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“He’s got no listed address,” Mikhail says.
“What if we get his cell phone records,” Mila adds, “and see where he makes most of his calls? Then we can work from there.”
“He’ll use a burner,” I tell her.
“If he’s used the same one, we can still track it,” she says.
“How?”
“Get the phone records of the dead man, his Serbian associate, then go down the call history and cross them off one by one. It’s worth a shot, at least.”
“Okay, do that,” I say. “In the meantime, I’ll check with the cops and see if the dead man has any tales to tell.”
My cell phone ringing cuts me off. I must make a face because Mikhail says, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Nikolai,” I tell him.
Mila sucks in a breath, looking at Mikhail, then me. They’ve clearly developed a working rapport from how she looks at him. That’s probably natural, considering they’re spending all this time together. I need to remember to thank Mikhail later. Being with Lia would be much harder if Mila wasn’t distracted.
Answering the phone, I say, “What a pleasant surprise.”
Nikolai laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “How’re you doing, Dimitri?”
“Generally speaking?”
Another humorless laugh. “What other way is there?”
If he’s trying to make me believe he doesn’t know about the attack, he’s doing a decent job. If he wasn’t behind it, there’s no reason for him to know it happened. I wish we were face-to-face. It’s always easier to root out liars like that.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
“Oh, good, good.” Nikolai doesn’t sound too pleased about that. Mila watches me with a tight expression, apparent terror in her eyes, telling me an entire story about all the twisted things he might’ve done to her or at least the sick threats he made. “So, when can I expect an invitation?”
I take a moment to realize he’s talking about the wedding. Technically, we have just over two weeks, but he’ll want to push it. He wants to twist me into his fucked-up shape through his daughter.
“We’re still working out some details,” I tell him. “You’ll hear from me soon.”
“Okay. That’s great. How is my daughter doing?”
“Do you want to speak with her?” I ask, but then Mila quickly shakes her head, and I realize my mistake.
Nikolai snorts anyway. “What for? Speak soon, Dimitri.”
I hang up the phone. The idea of a wedding with anybody except for Lia makes me feel sick. Even a wedding with Lia should make me cautious. I’ve never thought about weddings before, about spending my life with someone, about being happy.
“We good to go?” I ask Mikhail.
“We’ll keep working,” he says.
“Good. I’ll call the cops. Nikolai better hope these breadcrumbs don’t lead back to him.” I glance at Mila. I’m about to apologize when she shakes her head.
“I hope they do lead to him,” she says darkly.
I swallow, not wanting to say the next bit, but I have to. There’s no way around it, especially if there are moles lurking among my men. I need to be paranoid and cautious—two traits my father always had in abundance, two traits I always resented him for.
“Mila, we’re going to need to eat a meal together,” I say.
She flinches, then looks at me with a tragic mixture of anger, reluctance, and resentment. It’s like I can tell she’s thinking about wishing she could be anywhere except for here, do anything except this. I can’t blame her—I feel exactly the same. But what other choice is there?
Even Mikhail is looking at me like he’s pissed.
“Soon,” I go on. “In fact, now would be good. I’ll make arrangements. Very loud arrangements.” We have to buy time and if a fake romantic meal is what it takes then that is what we have to do.
For a second, I think she’s going to argue, but then she nods. “I want to do whatever it takes, whatever I can to help us all.” Translation… whatever it takes to make sure we don’t have to go through with this. It doesn’t take a genius to read the obvious signals that she hates this match as much as I do.
“Meet me in the dining room in thirty minutes,” I say, then leave the so-called hacking room and call Yuri, making sure to head outside where the men are patrolling. I speak louder than usual. “Cook something extravagant and exciting for me and my bride-to-be! Mila deserves the best…” As one of my men walks by, I raise my voice even louder. “And only the best.”
After a quick shower, I meet Mila in the dining room. She looks a little less scared than the last time I saw her, a little more hopeful, or maybe she’s doing a better job at hiding how she really feels.
“I made sure to take a long route here,” she murmurs. “A lot of people saw me wearing this.”