Page 22 of The Stalking King

Maksim: Me too.

I want to ask him what work means for him on a day-to-day basis. Cracking skulls? Meeting in seedy rooms to make senators and congressmen do his bidding? But he obviously wouldn’t discuss that over text.

I put my phone away, then take a shower. There’s no way I’m getting any more sleep tonight, so I might as well start my day. His words play on my mind, as if he spoke them in his gruff voice and didn’t text them.

All my stuff is in the formal living room of the townhouse, and I mean all my stuff. Boxes and boxes of it. I find one labelled clothes, get dressed, then go to the front window to find my rust bucket sitting out front. It doesn’t fit among all the politicians’ vehicles.

A car follows me in the rearview as I drive to work. How did life get so crazy again?

At the hospital, Joel meets me at the door. I know something’s wrong immediately.

“What is it?” I say, dread in my voice.

“Daniel Mercer is gone,” he replies.

For a moment, reality splits. I don’t know Daniel Mercer. But he reminded me of my baby brother. It’s like I’m hearing about Evan’s death all over again. “I thought he was still out?”

“He was. But it seems he woke up. We found his window open and footsteps in the grass near his room.”

“Anything on the CCTV?” I ask, voice dry.

Joel shakes his head. “He used blind spots. We’ve got nothing.”

“Have you reported it to the police?”

Joel frowns. “We can’t report someone for deciding to leave a hospital.”

I massage my forehead, feeling a tension headache forming already. Too much caffeine and too little sleep.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” I murmur, walking on shaky legs into the hospital.

I’m in the staffroom when my sleepy mind finally catches up to something.

I assumed Maksim guessed all that stuff about me, but it’s too specific. How would he guess I hate creamer in my coffee? A less sleep-deprived mind would’ve realized that immediately.

Has he been following me? Watching me?

CHAPTER 10

MAKSIM

Nikolai walks across the furniture-repair store, feet crunching over broken glass and shredded fabric. I stand at the door, arms folded, jaw clenched. Several of our businesses were trashed last night.

Nikolai turns to me. He looks exhausted, with large bags under his eyes. I know he was up late talking with his girlfriend… or one of them. Nikolai isn’t a playboy, necessarily, but he’s a lot less stunted than I am.

“They’re searching for the second device,” I growl. “The second half of the key. That’s why they hit us last night. Bastards.”

“No one was hurt,” Nikolai mutters. “They know not to push it too far.”

“This isn’t too far?” I grunt. “Conrad and his cronies are ex-intelligence. They’re not mobsters or gangsters. They’re basically fucking civilians.”

Nikolai grins, but it seems forced, like he’s doing it for my benefit. My usual happy-go-lucky brother is buried in there somewhere under the exhaustion. “And the sky is blue. And sidewalks are made of concrete. And fish swim in the ocean. Are we done telling each other things we already know?”

“Hmm,” I grunt. “You know what I’m saying.”

“We should show them that the Bratva is more than zeroes and ones on a computer somewhere. That we can break them any chance we want.”

“Exactly,” I snarl.