Page 93 of Wayward

“Paris?” I had to smile because I knew who else was there. “Was he with my stepsister?”

“Yes. Everyone thought he was in love with your cousin—”

“Dinara,” I offered.

“Yes. But apparently, that was for appearances. It was Galina he was crazy about, and from what we understand, when your father was informed, he threatened Kamenov’s life.”

“I bet.” Couldn’t have two of his own children in love.

“My understanding is that Kamenov, for his protection, will be sent to ADX Florence.”

Lev would live out the rest of his life completely alone in a supermax. I couldn’t think of a worse punishment for the naturally gregarious man.

It was strange to think that if he hadn’t betrayed me, if, instead, Lev had come to me and told me he was in love with Galina, I would have assured him it could never be. There was no future with my stepsister. Even not knowing he was my father’s son; I could have counseled him that Grigory Lenkov would never let him marry his daughter. To keep him safe, so my father would never know that he and Galina had been together, I would have gotten Lev away from the family. Sava would have hidden him as a favor to me, and he would have lived the rest of his life in exile, but happy. Now, because he’d turned on me, his freedom was a thing of the past.

“I’m surprised the justice department doesn’t want Lev to testify to what he knows and place him in WITSEC as well.”

“You’re the only witness the Feds need to make their case, Maks. That’s why decisions have to be made to determine if you are, in fact, safe in this town.”

“I think the first step to figuring that out would be to find out who was here shooting tonight, and why.”

She couldn’t fault my logic.

Given that the bungalow was a crime scene, I thought it odd that we were allowed to remain there, but as Sergeant Dix pointed out, there were three bullet holes, no breach had been made, so therefore, as long as the house was guarded by troopers, it was safe.

An hour later, Ada was asleep in her room. Gale and I were sitting at the kitchen table, with Misha asleep in his bed, which had been moved to the chair beside me. He would sleep as long as he was right next to me. Several people commented on how cute he was.

Alvarez took a seat on the other side of Gale, opened a laptop, pressed a button, and then we were all looking at Special Agent Monica Lewis.

“Hey,” I greeted her, smiling as Sergeant Dix and Chief Ramirez pulled up chairs so they too could see Lewis.

Brows furrowed, not wearing her normal attire of a crisp, polished suit but instead a Harvard sweatshirt that had seen better days, she was glaring at me.

“I’m safe,” I assured her. “Really. I won’t die in some stupid crossfire after making it out of Chicago alive.”

“I agree,” she said, and I realized I’d been holding my breath, terrified that I would have to leave a new home I’d just found. “However, to ensure your continued safety, I need this Reid Wells, who’s a person of interest in the attempt on your partner’s life, found immediately.”

I smiled at her.

“Shut up,” she grumbled at me.

“How do you already know about Gale?”

“I’m an FBI agent, Maks, not a mall cop.”

I laughed, and she glared at me, or tried to. She ended up smiling as well.

Poor Gale looked like somebody hit him, so without thinking, I took hold of his hand. I was relieved when he squeezed tight.

“Reid?” Gale barely got out, sounding broken.

“Who is Reid Wells?” Dix asked Lewis.

“He is the brother of deceased SWAT officer Dean Wells, who—”

“Who,” I rushed out, “clearly blames Deputy Chief Gale Malloy for his death.” No one needed to know that Dean and Gale had been anything more than colleagues. It didn’t do anything for the narrative, so I hoped that Lewis wouldn’t feel the need to share that piece with anyone else.

Lewis stared at me a moment and then met Dix’s gaze. “That’s correct. It took zero digging to find out that Wells bought a bolt-action rifle three days ago and headed from Los Angeles, where he’s been living, up there to Rune. He’s basically telegraphed his plan to make the person he feels is liable for his brother’s death, pay, to bring closure to the family. The issue being, of course, that the deputy chief is not in any way responsible for Dean Wells’s death. Ex-officer Wells was no longer a member of SWAT when he was killed in a drug raid with DEA agents. What’s somehow worse is that had he not been killed by the DEA, the Contreras Cartel surely would have come for him. This is textbook addiction and career suicide.”