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“Not my problem,” I growl.
“I know that. I was hoping…”
“You were hoping if I were married to your family…”
“I wanted to be sure the Korolyov name was closely aligned with yours, dah.” I glare at him. Anton just shrugs unapologetically. “Business is business, Micheal.” He eyes me. “Something tells me you are not unhappy with Katrina in your life though, yes?”
My eyes narrow at him. Anton smiles and shrugs. “A happy ending, no?”
“Happy?” I snarl. I advance on him. He flinches and backs away before Dom puts a hand on my shoulder to slow me. I growl at the Russian sniveling in front of me. “Pavel… your own fucking advisor Pavel, just took my wife,” I hiss. “And trust me that if I don’t find her safe and unharmed, there will be no happy ending. Include yourself in that unhappy outcome.”
Anton nods. “Pavel is a piece of shit. I’ve always known he looks at Katrina like that. But I find out tonight he has been talking to our fucking enemies.” He snarls. “I went to confront him, and two of my own men tried to shoot me. In my fucking house, Micheal!”
“Do you know which family?”
“The Ivanoviches, I think.”
Shit. The Ivanovich family is Bratva connected, and large. The Scaliamis have them outgunned, probably. But not by much. And who the hell knows how many of Anton’s guys Pavel has taken with him.
“So what are you going to do about this?”
Anton frowns. “Do?”
“A trusted man tried to have you killed in your house after stabbing you in the back and aligning with your enemies,” I growl. “In my world, that merits a fucking response.”
“You mean go after him.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes,” I hiss.
Anton shakes his head. “No, Micheal. It is not done like that. This must be brought to the council of families. There are powers in Russia that need to rule on what—”
“Are you fucking serious?” I roar. We’re wasting time. My people are already out there banging down doors and looking for Pavel and Katrina. But this needs to go faster. “Just tell me where you think he might be.”
“I can’t do that.”
I turn and grab the gun from Dominic’s belt. I cock it level it at Anton’s forehead. “I would,” I snarl.
“I am sorry, Micheal. It is an internal Bratva matter. So it needs to be dealt with—”
“She’s my wife, Anton,” I say thinly. I cock the gun and watch him swallow. “I’m counting to three.” This isn’t exactly the height of diplomacy, but I am shit out of fucks to give right now. “One—”
“How about if your guy is talking to the fucked Feds?” Dom barks. I turn, half amused by his interjection. I like this kid.
“What?”
“The FBI. Does that still make it a fucking internal matter?”
Anton’s face darkens. His nostrils flare. “You have proof of this?”
Dom barks something at one of his soldiers. The guy runs up with a big file folder. Dom takes it and shoves it into Anton’s hands. “Keep it, that’s a copy.”
I keep the gun on Anton. He opens the file up and starts paging through it. Pictures, thumb drives, and a pound of documents. I watch the fury mount on his face. He looks up with a snarl on his lips.
“Ublyudok!” He hisses with fury. “Motherfucker! Mother.Fucker!”
He whirls away. He snarls and curses up a storm before he turns back to me.
“Where would he go, Anton?”
