Page 21
Though it’s already far too late to erase what she’s seen, I step in front of her.
“They’re none of your business.”
She tries to peer around me. “The men who have that geometric tattoo… You’re investigating them?”
How does she recognize the symbol?
“Why do you care about the Volkovs, Lucia?”
She goes still. “I don’t. I just asked because I’m curious. Between these files and what you seem to do, it’s a logical conclusion.”
I take her shoulders in a gentle but firm grip and force her to meet my eyes.
“You’re a terrible liar. You bite your lip when you’re nervous or hiding something. In fact, you’re doing it now.”
Her hand flies to her mouth. “I don’t.”
“You do. So, tell me why a civilian ER doctor cares about the Russian mafia.”
Her eyes flash for a moment.
“My brother.” Her voice catches, exposing a crack she can’t quite seal. “His name was Matteo. Two years ago, before someone killed him, he was investigating an important case. I saw that symbol in his notes, and the night you came to the hospital, I saw the same mark tattooed on a Russian gang member that came in with a gunshot wound. I think those men were involved in his murder.”
The room tilts. If her brother was involved with the Volkovs, then their surveillance of her must not be random.
“Cristo, Lucia. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t know you!” She pulls away, her voice breaking. “Why would I trust you with this, especially since you’re…mafia?”
She’s right.
My world eats people like her. Asking for her trust would be stupid. Reeling from what she’s revealed, my mind races through scenarios, timelines, and consequences.
If the Volkovs think she has intel, or if they connect her to me, then she won’t last long.
“Listen to me.” I grab her medical bag off the coffee table and press it into her hands. “You need to leave. Now.”
“What? Why are you suddenly kicking me out? I think you owe me an explanation—”
“Because of your brother’s investigation and because of me, you’re in danger. Now go.”
I try to steer her toward the door, but she plants her feet.
“Stop manhandling me.”
“The Volkovs have eyes on you, and if what you told me about your brother is true, then staying away from this mess is the right thing to do. I’m trying to protect you.”
Her face drains of color so fast that she sways. “They’re watching me?”
“Think of this as me doing a favor for the doctor who saved my life. Even if you are annoying, I believe I would be doing the world some good by keeping you alive. Now, if you value your life, get out.”
She studies me for a moment, gritting her teeth. Her phone sits face down on the desk next to my files, right where she must have placed it while my head was turned. She picks the device up without a word and leaves.
A weight that feels dangerously close to respect settles in my chest.
Back at my desk, the Volkov file is open, and the pages have shifted.
Fuck.
