I set the first folder aside for the second.
“The two guys we know, the guys who started all the shit according to the cameras, are Sokolinaya. The third guy is just some random kid.”
Dmitri summarizes what’s in the folder while I leaf through it and the included images, containing black-and-white stills of the fight, the two Sokolinaya lowlifes with the kid. The three of them are tangled in a brawl on the dance floor, and a figure is streaking toward them.
It’s her.
“We checked on the kid just to make sure he wasn’t part of something.”
Dmitri’s voice pulls me back from thoughts of soft, warm skin beneath my palms, and a spark shoots straight to my already-tented crotch.
“He’s from East LA. His father is a defector, came here in the seventies and owns a bookstore now. The kid has a few siblings.”
The only saving grace I had was thinking I would never see the mystery woman again, and in time, these obsessive cravings would fade. But now I have her name, address, and far moreinformation about her and her family than I ever thought I would know.
Eva Volkova.
“The bookstore is in one of our properties, and they’ve been behind on rent. We’re close to kicking him out, and I know Sergei is looking forward to fixing it up and renting it for double or triple the price.”
I know where the bookstore is, right in the middle of an urban renewal zone. Our numbers guy, Sergei, must be salivating at the thought of what he can do with the property once the bookstore is out.
“The kid appears to be tied to Tsepov. He owes him money. A lot of it.”
Something stirs and stretches in the back of my mind, my hackles rising in warning. The woman had seemed innocent enough, trying to save her brother. But what if it was all some kind of play to get under my skin and do damage from the inside out? What if she’s working with Tsepov to clear her brother’s debt to him?
The same sense of danger ripples over my skin.
“Do we have a problem?” I ask, meeting Dmitri’s eyes.
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Seems like it was exactly what it looked like. We’ll keep an eye on it, but we can file this one away as closed.”
“Good.”
I toss the folder into the trash, my attention returning to the one Anya left on my desk as I flip it open. I still don’t know what“Found Him” means, and it takes me a moment of reading to understand what is in front of me. Then I go still.
“Found him,” I repeat.
Dmitri arches an eyebrow at me, his gaze sweeping the neatly stapled sheaf of papers. “What?”
I’m out of my chair, triumph and a rush of anticipation for the hunt surging through my veins. “They found the hacker.”
From the corner of my eye as I pivot toward the door, I see Dmitri’s eyes widen before he scrambles after me.
“Seriously? The one we keep having to kick out of the systems?”
“That one.” My growl is feral, even I can hear it this time.
Dmitri is on my heels as we stalk through the Kucher Enterprises offices, and he makes the call to get a team together. My car is waiting by the curb, and the driver checks the surrounding area before opening the door to let us inside.
“I can’t believe we caught the bastard. He’s been slipping our net for weeks.” Dmitri shifts his big frame into the seat, looking like a bear in a too-small cage. “I have to hand it to him. He’s damn good. Takes a pair to try to take us down like that.”
His laughter shakes his shoulders, but I can see his eyes are bright with the thrill of the hunt, a flash of metal under his suit jacket proof he’s ready to take care of this annoyance.
I, too, am more than ready to dig this particular thorn out of my side. There’s no telling how much he’s discovered about the Bratva’s business or why he’s after us. But I plan to use any means necessary to pull the information from the guy. Hopefully, he’s smart enough to tell me what I want to knowright away, and his death will be much faster and less painful if so.
When we pull up to the address, I’m surprised to find it’s an old postwar tract home, small, single-story, pitched roof. It’s falling apart. The faded sage-green siding is dirty and peeling from sun and salt damage, moss and mold stain the exposed brick, the shingles are curling and falling off, and the crisscrossing wood over the windows is broken or even gone in some cases.
“Looks like a place a hacker would live,” Dmitri says before squeezing out of the back of the SUV.
