He is as bossy as me.
“He’s at the deli down the street from Katarina’s apartment, isn’t he?” Henry is as private about his personal life as I am. He usually doesn’t share details about it with anyone. The fact he did with Tatiana exposes how influential she is in his life.
Confident it was Kwan, one of Henry’s foot soldiers, deep timbre sounding down the line as Henry lowered his phone from his ear, I jerk up my chin. “He goes there every morning.”
“Because he’d hate for anyone to stuff up his daily order.” Tatiana plonks her backside that’s no longer covered by a skimpy dress onto the two-seater couch in her living room before raising her eyes to mine. “The most beautiful love stories often have the most tragic endings.” She picks at a lint ball on her sweatpants while muttering, “Let’s hope that isn’t the case for you and Isabelle.”
“It won’t be,” I state matter-of-factly. “Henry left his family to protect them.”
“And you’re here because?” Tatiana doesn’t give me the chance to answer. It is for the best. My astuteness isn’t as forgiving when it’s firing on all cylinders.
Tatiana heads for the bar in the corner of her living room before offering me a drink. “From what Hugo disclosed during our drive, you’re here for the long haul, so you may as well make yourself comfortable.”
When I lift my chin, accepting her offer, she grimaces instead of gleaming with hope. Women usually respond differently when I unbutton my suit jacket in preparation for a long night. I guess the file I snatched off the coffee table while taking a seat could have Tatiana’s emotion unsure of which way to swing. It isn’t every day your ‘date’ arrives on your doorstep in the middle of the night to discuss the gruesome death of your baby sister.
40
When my cell phone commences blowing up, I dump my pen onto a mountain of paperwork on the desk in my private office. It’s been a long and tedious two weeks that was drawn out even further by both Isabelle’s hectic work schedule and Callie’s impending auction.
With an influx of bidders keeping the Popov entity knee-deep in background searches, they changed things up for Callie’s auction. They requested an advance, something previously unheard of foranymafia realm. Both Hunter and Regan cautioned discretion about the one-million-dollar down payment the Popovs requested, but with Hugo remaining tight-lipped during our impromptu meeting last week, I knew hesitance wasn’t the right emotion for me to evoke.
Trust is a rarely found commodity in the underworld, but respect is in abundance. Vladimir would rather face a billion-dollar hit than lose a single investor that has made his entity so wealthy. Furthermore, a million dollars is a small price to pay if it dwindles the number of bidders to a manageable amount.
The number of children sold on the black market is staggering. It is a billion-dollar industry that I had no clue about until Callie’s sale was thrust under my nose. I’m honestly at a loss on how to fix the travesty, but with men like Ryan Carter on the case, I’m hoping my inclusion in Callie’s sale won’t be negatively impacted.
Don’t misconstrue. Ryan is unaware of Callie’s sale. He also doesn’t know about Isabelle’s true origin, but with Tatiana’s sister’s death linked to a child sex trafficking ring, his name has been regularly featured by me for the past two weeks.
You have no idea how frustrating it was to reach out to him the night he kissed Isabelle. If I had any other option, I would have taken it, but mercifully, his arrival at Tatiana’s apartment cemented Col’s belief that I had moved on.
Not a single incident has been recorded at Isabelle’s apartment building the past two weeks. It has been as quiet as a church mouse, and I’d be a liar if I said the shift hasn’t been a refreshing change in pace. I’ve lived my life a million miles an hour. I fought, breathed, and slept for my empire, and up until Isabelle toppled to my feet, I had no clue the exhausting schedule was the cause of most of my mistakes.
I made decisions years ago I can’t undo. I changed myself in a way not many women will be willing to accept, yet Isabelle gives me hope that it won’t matter and that I can fix my mistakes and still live a meaningful existence. She makes me put others before myself, which is a rare occurrence for men these days. Many of the issues I’ve encountered the past few months have been solely because of pigheaded men who’d rather cut off their noses to spite their faces than help someone.
The frustration of my statement is heard in my curt tone when I answer my phone, “Hello.” The area code is local, but the number displayed is unknown.
I learn why when the gruffness of my caller’s voice is unidentifiable. It’s heightened with a Russian accent deeper than Nikolai’s and with nowhere near as much angst. “Col Petretti did not kill Emmy. Her death didn’t occur until three weeks after he sold her. I’ve forwarded the details of the sale to your security personnel, but as far as you should be concerned, this matter is now handled.”
Before a word can slip from my lips, he disconnects our call.
I stare at my phone for several long seconds, unmoving and unspeaking. I’m not stunned. I am merely aiming to recall each unique sound that boomed out of the speaker of my cell phone during my call. There are no train stations in Ravenshoe. You either take the bus or fly out. If you commute via train, you need to travel to Hopeton.
After taking a moment to ensure I have my facts straight, I call Hunter. He answers half a ring later. The sound of his keyboard being punished advises me he is aware of my unexpected call and is in the process of tracing it. “He’s smart. He kept contact short, but he forgot to drown out background noise. With the wind blowing in from the northwest and the departure time of the train, I can determine he is in the industrial area of Hopeton.”
“Are you checking surveillance around Col’s known haunts?”
He hums an agreeing murmur. “We can’t be too careful. It may not just be Vladimir trying to insight a mafia war.” My jaw has barely worked through an entire grind when Hunter steals my utmost devotion. “I got him.” My excitement barely registers when he swipes it out from beneath me. “Well… I got the back of his head.”
Before I can request to see what he’s seeing, an image pops up on my laptop’s screen. It’s grainy but shows a man of approximately six foot three or four hanging up the receiver of a pay phone that should have been extinct. After adjusting the collar of his dark trench coat to ensure it conceals his face, he stalks away from the pay phone nestled between a group of decommissioned warehouses.
“Can you follow him?”
“I can…” I wait, knowing Hunter has more to say. I’m right. “But it would be a whole heap easierifRavenshoe PD had access to the same satellite surveillance as the rest of the state. This equipment is so fucking ancient, I’d have better luck launching my own damn satellite.”
Since that isn’t a bad idea, I don’t cite an objection to his suggestion. Instead, I watch his struggle to follow the perp through the murky backstreets of Hopeton.
“No plates,” I groan under my breath when he slips into a low ride with missing tags.
“And there’s no way to trace the car back to him. That make is as common as assholes. Everyone has one.” Hunter chokes on his spit before saying with a groan, “The information he mentioned just landed in my inbox.” He shuts down the surveillance video on my laptop a mere second before his hairy face pops up in its place. He looks as tired as I feel. Dark rings circle his eyes, and his beard looks like it hasn’t been trimmed in days. “I don’t think Henry was lying when he said he’s on your team.”
