Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
They just don’t belong to the man who causes my heart to beat in my ears as often as he forces guilt to weigh down my chest.
They belong to his little brother.
45
ANDRIK
When I detect I am being watched, I stop eyeballing Mikhail guiding Zoya into the lower-level bar of the hotel. It isn’t as heated as the glare I issued earlier when I noticed Zoya’s arrival in my hometown had caught the attention of numerous men, but it is just as evil.
“Who is she to you?”
I spin away from the floor-to-ceiling two-way mirror of Maksim’s office to greet him with a handshake. We’ve met previously, but this is the first time it is about business.
When Maksim arches a dark brow, conscious I am being purposely coy, I say, “I could ask you the same.”
My daggers miss the bullseye when the faintest grin tugs his lips to the side at the same time his nostrils flare.
He wasn’t eye-fucking Zoya earlier.
His focus was steadfast on her friend.
How do I know this? He isn’t the slightest bit bothered about the visual of Zoya and Mikhail appearing cozy mere feet from his office window. I’m the only one struggling with jealousy.
I wouldn’t have sent Mikhail to do my bidding if Maksim hadn’t mistaken my arrival at his hotel as me bringing our meeting forward by several hours.
My head would be buried between Zoya’s legs.
Unwilling to show more of his hand than he just did, Maksim gestures for me to sit across from him. He is acting courteous because I own the airline Maksim and Zoya flew with this evening, meaning I wasn’t solely aware of Zoya’s visit to my hometown hours before it occurred, I also know my list of heart surgeons is being minimized each second Maksim exacts revenge.
Maksim killed Dr. Azores mid-flight and then secured my security company’s services to doctor the evidence.
I am more than happy to comply with his request, but only after issuing some of my own.
After unbuttoning my suit jacket, I take a seat across from Maksim before getting down to business. “I have names of the people you’re seeking. Many of them.” When he attempts to interrupt, I speak faster. It pisses him off, but so be it. I have as much, if not more, pull in this town as him. “Your mother didn’t end up where she was for no reason. This ruse runs far deeper than Myasnikov Private Hospital’s underbelly. To truly make a stance, you need the information my team has unearthed.”
I hand him a printout that Konstantine unearthed after a lengthy crawl through the system he hacked into weeks ago. It shows that Maksim’s mother is one of many victims. The main target won’t be recognized by name. When they mean nothing to you but a means to get off, you don’t get their name before leaving a fistful of bills on the nightstand.
Once I’m confident Maksim identifies the face of the woman being carried out of his hotel room clearly inebriated, I place a second photograph over the first.
This one adds a tic to his jaw.
The whore who kept his sheets warm for a night looks starkly different on an autopsy table.
“They took all her organs, including her eyes.”
Maksim tosses down the images before leaning back in his chair. “Are these supposed to rattle me?”
“No,” I reply, being honest. “But it is a little hypocritical to make it seem as if you’re taking down an industry you apparently commenced.”
He looks like he wants to slit my throat.
Good. It means he’s now paying attention.
“Someone in your operation is working with the federation.” His squint announces he’s heard of the federation, but his lack of worry shows he’s underestimating their potential. “There are numerous paper trails leading back to Ivanov Industries. Including the sale of your mother’s organs.”
“What benefit would I get from killing my mother?” He sounds like he wants to murder me just for the insinuation, and it adds another point to my tally.
“From the rumors circulating, to reach the top tier of the Fernandezes’ ladder.”
When my hand digs into my soft leather briefcase for more evidence, Maksim growls out, “Tread carefully, Kazimir. Very fucking carefully.”
I give him as much information as I can about organ sales on the black market without putting up the roadblocks I did weeks ago when I contacted Matvei.
It places me in Maksim’s favor, though not enough for him not to add his own stipulations to our verbal agreement.
“I will consider holding off on certain regions if you give me the names of everyone in the Myasnikov Private ring.”
I almost lecture him on how no business should be ran on “ifs,” but hold my tongue when I recall his willingness to bend protocols for me is better than any outcome I could have anticipated.
“I’ll see what I can do.”