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Liam blows air through his lips as he leans back, lacing his hands behind his head.
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
He arches a brow.
“It’s not. Look, boss, I can dig as well as the best of them. Better, actually.”
“Which is why I employ you.”
“And here I thought it was my blistering humor.”
I smirk.
“Prince is a tough nut to crack. And honestly, some of it is just sheer lack of resources.”
“You have whatever you need at your disposal.”
“I know. But with what you’re looking for, from when, and on who?” He frowns. “Boss, it might be time to go out-of-house for this.”
“I can assume you already have someone in mind?”
He smiles wryly.
“You won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
He shrugs. “When’s the last time you spoke with Kristoff Zima?”
My gaze slides to the window, stabbing out at the rain outside. But it’s not like I have to think too hard about it.
“Maybe three years.”
There’s no maybe about it. The last time I spoke to my old Russian friend was literally the same day Braddock and I stopped speaking for a long time. The day Ella turned eighteen, checked herself out of Hemlock Estates, and disappeared.
And for the same reasons. Kristoff was also pissed at me, for “walking away from and ignoring my responsibilities to Thomas.”
As if it was ever that simple.
“Zima’s got access to resources that you…” Liam clears his throat. “Let’s just say, you have more invested in being a law-abiding citizen than he does.”
Which is putting it lightly.
Like me, Kristoff came to Lords College on the charity of a rich and connected benefactor. For me, it was Thomas’s father. For Kristoff, it was the ruthless, brutal, Russian Bratva connected oligarch Boris Tsavakov, who wanted one of his top captains to be as cutthroat in business as he could be.
Since then, Boris, who by all accounts was a colossal piece of shit, is dead. And his son, Misha, who actually went to Oxford Hills Academy with my stepdaughter Cora, is now running the show. Kristoff is his number two.
It might sound cliche to assume the Russian criminal has connections to for-hire hacker groups. But he almost certainly does.
“I’ll reach out.”
“He’s in Manchester this week, actually.”
My brow furrows. “Oh?”
Liam nods as he stands to leave.
“And how is it that you know that?”
