Page 42 of Possessive Mafia Bodyguard

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His eyes are like cold bullets. “What part of stay out of sight did you not understand?”

“I’ve been here every day since Ivana went missing.” I try to wrench my arm free, but he isn’t letting go.

“And you almost got killed in the process.” His eyes slide to my bruised face. “Or have you conveniently forgotten about that?”

“The place is crawling with cops tonight, or have you conveniently forgotten that?” I’m pushing my luck, but I’m beyond thinking about consequences. “The Petrovs would be idiots to attack me in full view of the police department, and if this incident is down to them, they’ll be working elsewhere.”

He knows I’m right. I watch his thought process play out behind his eyes and wriggle my arm from his grip as he reaches the same conclusion.

“Stay close,” he says. “We’ll find out what we can and get the fuck out of here.”

I hold his gaze for a few beats and then follow him down onto the dock.

Leonid wouldn’t let me out of his sight if he thought I was a liability, but Andrej makes it too easy for me to slip away.

I steal a hard hat from a forklift truck, and a hi-vis vest hanging like a tail from the back pocket of a worker milling around waiting for orders. Then I worm my way through the groups gathered around the forensic tents like this is a stadium crowd and I’m trying to get prime position in front of the stage. The dock workers are so distracted that they give me space without even thinking about it.

When I’m close enough to the forensic team to watch them work without drawing attention to myself, I start a conversation with the large-bellied man standing beside me silently thanking Leonid for the lessons he insisted Ivana and I take to perfect our American accent.

“What happened? I was in the office.” I crane my neck to get a better view of the crime scene around the guy in front of me so that my companion only gets my profile.

“Gunshots. I didn’t see it, but two men are dead.”

I nod once and slip away into the crowd; stationary, Andrej will find me, and the guy didn’t see anything, so he’s of no further use to me.

I sidle close to a younger guy in faded denims and tight T-shirt exposing bulging biceps. “Did you see what happened?” I feel his eyes raking me from head to toe, but I don’t look at him.

“I heard the first gunshot at the same time the warehouse went bang. The explosion was a distraction if you ask me.”

I decide that I will ask him. “Was it the Russians?”

He hesitates, still eyeing me up. “You a reporter?”

“No.” I face him and keep my expression neutral as I spread my empty hands wide. “My sister works here, and I don’t know where she is.”

“Shit. Sorry.” He wrinkles his nose. “Two guys went down. Have you checked the ambulances? A bunch of folks got caught in the crossfire.”

“Not yet, but I will, thank you.” I go to walk away and then pretend to remember one last question. “Have you seen Imelda?” It’s the first name that pops into my head from fuck knows where. “The woman with white-blonde hair.”

“She was here earlier.” He turns and gestures towards the dock entrance, and I blend in with the crowd while he looks away.

I knew it. She was at the harbor the day I spotted the men with the serpent tattoos. She was here when I got dragged into the shipping container, and she was here again today when shit goes down and people get killed. There’s no such thing as coincidences. She could be working for the Petrovs, but my gut is telling me that she’s one of the good guys, and I’m still hoping that she might have information on Ivana.

I find Andrej talking to a couple of cops, smiling like they’re his buddies and they just happened to bump into each other on a regular night out. He hasn’t spotted me yet, or if he has, he’s doing a great job of pretending he hasn’t.

Then I notice the police on board one of the ships moored up at the dock. I reverse out of the crowd and hide behind a truck where I have an unobstructed view of the vessel.

It isn’t the same ship that reminded me of the one that brought me and Ivana to the States, but I recognize the hammer and sickle tattoo on a muscly arm, and adrenaline starts to pump around my body. I scan the workers on board for a glimpse of serpent ink, but don’t find any. The cops are searching for something though. Or somebody. I count at least five on deck, opening storage chests and shifting equipment about, and guess that there must be more down below.

Did someone tip them off? Did their arrival prompt the gunfire and the warehouse explosion as a distraction? Or did someone else blow up the building to create as much chaos as possible?

I scan the dock for a glimpse of white-blonde hair and find Andrej skirting the crowd and heading my way. I look behind me for an escape route because I’m not done asking questions yet, and spot Finn and the sandy-haired man from the meeting coming at me from the opposite direction.

Fuck! I don’t want to speak to him, but neither can I risk Andrej seeing us together. If he questions my loyalty to Leonid, the seeds of doubt will be planted, and both will start to wonder if Ivana defected to the Petrovs, when I know that she would never do that.

So, I pivot back to Andrej and turn my back on the man I gave my virginity to, sealing my chest and shutting him out. And I pretend that it doesn’t hurt when what I really want to do is curl up into a ball and cry until there are no tears left.

“I’m ready to leave.” I continue past Andrej and keep walking. “Ivana isn’t here.”