Something in O’Reilly’s voice alerted him. He turned in time to see her sway.
“Hey,” he said, moving quickly and slipping an arm around her waist.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just drained.”
Her visions wrung her out. For him, puzzle pieces locking into place did the opposite. Adrenaline built and heightened his focus.
He held up the frame. “This finishes it.” Not a threat. A fact.
O’Reilly looked on, understanding dawning.
Coop moved her toward the door. “Let’s wrap this up. Then I’m getting you home to bed.”
Not her home and her bed. His. They’d be lucky to see it before sunrise.
He led her out into the night, framed photo in one hand, hers in the other. Soon, Gruzinsky would realize he had one choice. Face Kedrov as a thief. Or face him as a traitor.
Only one of those came with protection.
***
It was nearly three in the morning when two uniformed officers brought Gruzinsky into the interrogation room. They sat him down and secured him to the steel ring then left.
Coop was already seated, elbows on the table. Waiting with a calm that made men like Gruzinsky sweat.
The Russian rolled his shoulders once and smirked. “You interrupt my sleep. This better be worth it.”
Coop didn’t reply. He simply laid out the evidence, photo by photo—the trapdoor, the weapons, the cash.
Gruzinsky barely glanced at them. Dismissive. Or trying to be.
Then Coop dropped the frame. Wood clattered against steel. The frame landed face up, revealing snow, the woman, and two red-cheeked, smiling boys.
He didn’t touch it. But he didn’t look away either.
“You’ve been skimming.”
Gruzinsky grunted. “You think too much, Ranger.”
“You set up your own side hustle,” Coop continued, without inflection. “Cash and weapons stored where Kedrov won’t look.”
Still no response.
Coop added the next piece. “She walked into your cabin and found the key in under five minutes. What else do you think she saw?”
“She is trick,” he muttered. “Parlor game. You have nothing.”
Coop leaned forward, voice low. “I get it. If Kedrov finds out you talked, you’re dead.” He paused deliberately before adding, “If he finds out you skimmed, you’re dead slower.” He tapped the photo. “What happens to them when you’re gone?”
That landed. Gruzinsky shifted, close to squirming, and turned a little green.
He pressed. “You have a choice. Take your chances with Kedrov, who I’m guessing has no tolerance for thieves or traitors.” Coop stood. “Or cooperate. Work with us. And maybe one day you’ll see those little boys grown up.”
He walked toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he checked his watch: 3:03 a.m.
“The FBI will be here in the morning. When they walk in, I’m out.” He turned and made his final offer. “You want a deal with me, you’ve got about five hours. Otherwise, you tighten the noose.”
He opened the door and went through. It had an automatic closer and swung shut slowly. With only an inch left…
