Who the fuck is this woman, and what did they do with my sister?Feisty Justine is back, and it’s taking everything I have not to welcome her return with a high-five.
The first half of Trey’s disclosure I am aware of, but the second half is new. “Nikolai’s DNA was found on the scene. A pool of his blood was located next to a man only known as a myth…Ubiytsa.”
“Killer,” Justine and Agent Machini translate at the same time.
Trey nods. “Rumors are his father was a Ukrainian weightlifter and his mother an operative at the Russian soviet. With his childhood devoted to beating his mother’s lineage into him, his seven-foot-eight height never matched the maturity of his brain. His mental capacity only reached that of a young teen.”
“Was he the man who held me hostage?” Justine questions.
Trey nods for the second time. “We believe so.”
Certain they’ve slotted the pieces of the puzzles together incorrectly, I seek clarification to their beliefs. “What are you saying? Nikolai killed a man, and in retaliation, he was killed?”
Trey’s shrug forces Justine’s throat to work through a hard swallow. “We don’t know. Dimitri was the only man found alive.”
“Because he was too injured to flee?”
Justine’s face whitens when Trey shakes his head. “He was left as a warning. If this were a takeover bid, Maxsim needs the word spread that he toppled the king. Dimitri is his equivalent of a town crier.”
“That makes sense,” Agent Machini says at the same time Justine discloses, “But Maxsim didn’t topple the king. Nikolai isn’t dead.”
When Justine sways like a leaf on a summer’s day, I attempt to grab the tops of her arms. I say attempt because she pulls away from me before I can. “J—”
“No!” she screams, her chest heaving. “Nikolai isn’t dead! I’d know if he were dead. I would fucking know it.” She sucks in a quick breath before adding evidence to her theory. “I somehow got from Florida to Vegas with my life intact. That wouldn’t have occurred without Nikolai’s help.”
“The Vasilievs used a subsidiary entity to bid on you last year,” Trey discloses. “You’re only alive because they see you as an asset.”
“What?” Justine fires back, her one word breathless.
Trey steps closer to her, his eyes oddly nurturing for a guy who looks like he goes through women like underwear. “I’ll call a physician to check you over. He’s very discreet. I assure you, nothing you tell him willeverleave this room.”
Sparks of the hormonal teenager I exchanged words every damn day during summer break fire through Justine’s eyes when she shouts, “I don’t need a doctor! I also wasn’traped.” Her last word is barely a whisper. “Nikolai wouldneverlet that happened. He’d kill any man stupid enough to get within an inch of me.”
I want to pat her on the back for standing her ground, but I learned the hard way that stubbornness doesn’t always equal honesty. “He couldn’t protect you from the grave, J.”
Her glare cuts through me like a knife. “Then I’m lucky he isn’t dead, aren’t I?”
With determination the strongest emotion on her face, she races to a dresser in the corner of the room. Trey’s eyes snap to the ground within a nanosecond of her towel slipping off her body so she can yank on a pair of sweatpants and a plain tee.
Once she has her hair pulled out of the collar, she twists to face Trey. “Where are the men?” My feet barely budge an inch when she repeats, “Where are my men!” louder this time.
“They’re in the den…” Justine is out the door before half of Trey’s reply leaves his mouth, and even faster than that, he’s hot on her tail.
“Go with them,” Agent Machini suggests. “If Justine isn’t going to prioritize her health, you need to do it for her.”
Nodding, I take off after them because for once, Agent Machini is right.
My future needs me.
My past doesn’t.
Yet.
36
Maddox
While picking at the sandwich I delivered as an excuse for a breather, Agent Machini asks, “What is your gut telling you, Maddox?”
