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“Go,” I say icily, “before I change my mind.”
He runs, tripping in his haste. My men don’t laugh. The situation is far too serious. What could’ve happened to Katerina is no laughing matter.
Leonid covers his nose with a hand. “Do you want me to dump the body?”
“No.” I spare the dead ublyudok one last look. “Leave him here.” It will send a stronger message.
Dimitri lifts a foot and wrinkles his nose as he takes in the wet hem of his pants.
“Let’s get out of this stinking hole,” I say.
Our cleanup team is already getting rid of the other bodies and wiping away our tracks when we leave the building and walk into the night.
“What the fuck was that about?” Leonid asks in a lowered voice.
I clench my jaw. “I have no idea, but we’re going to find out.” And I know exactly who the best man for that job is.
Yuri gets my door.
“Put a man on Stefanov,” I tell Leonid as I slide into the back. “I want eyes on him twenty-four-seven.” Now that I’ve stirred up some shit—literally—Stefanov may get nervous. He may make a move that will shed some light on what the hell is going on.
“Do you want me to take him out?” Igor asks, getting in beside me.
“No.” I rub a fist over my brow as I consider the implications. “Not yet. I first want to know what he’s cooking up and who else is involved. Whatever he’s planning, he might not be alone.”
Yuri starts the engine and steers the car into the street.
“Home, Mr. Volkov?” he asks.
“The office.” I need to change into clean clothes before I set foot in the house. I’m not facing my kiska smelling like filth. I keep a few changes of clothes at the office for when I don’t have time to go home before business dinners.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I type up a message to Adrian Kuznetsov, the corporate spy, asking him to dig around and see if my name has blipped anywhere near Stefanov’s dealings. As much as I despise Kuznetsov, if there’s anyone who’ll find something, it’s him. After encrypting the message with a software application, I send it to Adrian’s secure email address.
“What now?” Igor asks.
“For now, we wait,” I say, repeating Dimitri’s words from yesterday.
10
Kate
Something is wrong. I know it.
Kicking off the high-heeled shoes that pinch my toes, I pace the floor of the library. The fire has burned out. It’s close to midnight.
Where is Alex? What’s taking so long?
Whatever that tattoo means, it’s important, or else he wouldn’t have run out of here like his life depended on it. He clearly expected trouble because he left with enough men to fill four cars while I helplessly watched their exodus through the window.
I consider calling him for the tenth time, but I don’t pick up the phone on the desk. If he’s in the middle of something dangerous, the last thing I want is to distract him. Instead, I keep watching the windows. I’ve opened all the curtains so I can keep an eye on the driveway.
Being shut in the house and not knowing what’s going on is driving me crazy. My stomach is tied in knots.
Movement at the gates draws my attention. Two guards run to the gateposts and stand at attention, one of them talking on a two-way radio. A car’s headlights appear. They shine through the bars as the car comes to a stop in front of the gates. Rushing to the window, I grip the windowsill and crane my neck for a better view. The large gates swing open, and a convoy of cars enters.
Not bothering to pull on my shoes, I run to the entryway. As usual, a guard stands in front of the door. It’s another reminder that Alex doesn’t trust me. The knowledge chafes like a rough rope that’s been ripped from soft palms. Whereas he betrayed my trust, I don’t deserve his circumspection. I’m not stupid enough to run and put my own life and the lives of everyone I love at risk. I might not trust him with my freedom any longer, but I do trust him with my life. If there’s anyone who’s ruthless and powerful enough to protect me, it’s Alex Volkov. But he is human, a man of flesh and bone, and very much vulnerable to bullets and blades.
My nerves are wreaking havoc on my emotions. I need to make sure Alex is okay.
“Please open the door,” I say to the guard.
He stares straight ahead.
“Open the door,” I demand in a firmer voice.
Just as I’m about to squeeze around him and do it myself, the door swings inward, letting in a dusting of snowflakes with a flurry of wind. The guard steps aside. When Alex enters, my chest deflates with the breath I was holding. My relief is so great I sag in a spell of weakness, feeling much like I do after an adrenaline crash.
