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They talk quietly, and Shirley seems to perk up speaking to Nat. I sit in a chair nearby and listen to their idle chit-chat, nothing personal or confidential. Shirley has learned her lesson.
Nat finishes her coffee with a smack of her lips. “I also want to see Kira, so I’m going to go find her room.”
“How do you know Kira?” Shirley asks curiously.
“I went to school with her and her sister,” she smiles. “Since I’m here, I might as well check on her. We’re family and all that now.”
Shirley gives her a warm smile. “That’s very sweet. She shouldn’t be far.”
Nat waves goodbye and leaves the room, so I get up and sit on the chair she abandoned beside Shirley.
Shirley fiddles with her fingers for a moment. She doesn’t look at me, but she finally speaks, “I’m going to fall so far behind on my work. I wanted to finalize everything and get back to the things I usually do.”
I nod. “If Ettore recovers from his injuries, then we can both present our bids, and once he makes a decision, we can take it from there.” I don’t know if I’m reassuring her or myself.
“It does seem logical to bid from the bigger families,” she concedes. “I just wish we could do it and be done.”
“I know,” I say suddenly. ‘What if we made our proposals identical?”
Shirley looks at me skeptically, and I continue, “I mean it. We put through the same options, and Ettore can just pick whichever, and that way, we’re not trying to one-up each other constantly.”
She looks away thoughtfully and nods. “That isn’t a bad idea. That might actually work because then our families won’t bicker.”
She yawns, and I stand up. “Listen, you get some rest. I’ll tell the guards no more visitors except your family. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I lean down and kiss her cheek. “I’m happy you’re okay.”
“So am I,” she says, lying back and watching me through heavy-lidded eyes.
I leave the hospital with two guards escorting me out in case Mikhail tries anything. I leave two guards, with two of the Sorvino guards, outside Shirley’s room.
Once on the road home, my phone buzzes, and I answer, “Evgenii speaking.”
“Boss,” It’s Aleks. “We got some footage of who may have planted the bomb. Someone dressed as a courier on a bike. We’ve tracked him and brought him to your house for questioning.”
I feel that fiery rage building up inside me. “I’m on my way. Secure him.”
I look at my driver Gregori. “Move it. I want to be home asap.”
We push the speed limit, and we’re home in record time. I step out of the car and button my suit jacket as I walk into the house. Aleks is in the hallway. “Where is he?”
“The informal guest bedroom,” Aleks smiles.
I smirk, the only guests who end up in there are the kind that aren’t seen or heard from again. Aleks leads me into the room and shuts the door. This room is soundproof, and I can see the guy, head hanging, sweat dropping off his face. A deep black bruise is forming near his right eye, and it’s already started to swell.
I pick up a chair and place it in front of him, sitting on it. There’s enough distance that there is no way he can reach me, but I know he can hear me if I murmur.
His head sways slightly as he looks up at me with bleary eyes. I nod, I have no smile to offer this man.
“You planted a bomb today next to a bistro. Is that correct?”
He starts to shake his head, but Aleks stabs a sharpened welding rod into his leg, and I say, “We have it on camera, so really that was just to test you.”
He whimpers, tears forming in his eyes.
“Aleks, I think the dogs need something to nibble on. It doesn’t seem our guest listens very well, so I doubt he needs both ears.”
The man’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, “No! No! No!”
