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“Unfortunately,” Kreshnik says, pressing a kiss to the baby’s pink cheek, “you, the baby, and Timofey will all die either way.”
The hope turns to dust in my hands. Benjamin is alive.
The question now is:for how much longer?
49
TIMOFEY
The entrance to the building is lit up like a gaudy beacon. A signal fire screaming, “Invest in us so we can waste more money on fancy parties.”
The fountain was brought in specifically for the event, driven in on an oversized truck and filled with water dyed a special shade of blue. It took eight men all day to set it up. Not to mention the valets, the servers, the women who are paid by the hour to make the important guests feel “welcomed.”
They won’t write “escorts” on the cost breakdown, of course. It will be lumped in with some other line item to make sure no one can accuse the board of bribing investors with prostitutes.
If it had been up to me, this event would have been an email. But the board, in all of their wisdom, insisted. I’ve made the company more than enough money that I relented. If they needed to burn some cash to blow off steam, then so be it.
Apparently, I should have kept them on a shorter leash.
But this party isn’t a symbol; it’s a target. And the only person who could have defended them from attack isn’t even on the guest list.
I have a feeling that by the end of tonight, they’ll all be forced to face their regrets.
I slam my car into park and climb out at the curb. A valet scrambles over. “Keys, sir? We can park—”
“Leave it. I’ll be back.”
“But, sir… You can’t—I have to park—”
“Leave it,” I repeat in a growl.
The kid is barely twenty, if that. He slinks back to the valet stand, and I cut through the crowd of guests mounting the stairs.
Women in gowns and jewels cling to the arms of their rich husbands. All of them have a scowl reserved for me.
They probably don’t recognize me out of a suit.
The chairman of the board has no trouble recognizing me, however. Manuel is standing next to the fountain with an investor he’s been trying to bag for months. I tasked him with talking to the man, despite the fact I have enough blackmail on the banker to demand not only his investment, but the keys to his house and the cut he makes laundering cartel drug money. I’ll never tell Manuel that little secret now. His loss.
The moment he sees me, Manuel separates from the conversation and sidles up next to me.
“What are you doing here?” he hisses, a smile still on his face.
I don’t break pace, forcing Manuel to jog to keep up. “I heard there’s an open bar.”
“Seriously, Timofey.”
“Seriously,” I say. “I could use a drink. By the looks of it, you could too. Maybe a few drinks would soften up your favorite investor over there enough that he’ll forget you’re an insufferable blowhard.”
I can practically hear his teeth grinding together. “You aren’t dressed for the event.”
“Really? What do you think is the appropriate look for a former CEO? A suit felt too formal.”
As we walk, my eyes scan the crowd. I don’t see Kreshnik anywhere, but I’m not surprised. He’ll reveal himself only when he is good and ready.
Unless I find him first.
“Timofey, I don’t want to call security, but—”
