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Luka plays the video back. This time, I concentrate on that one specific corner. Whatever it is, it’s moving too fast. The second the bomb goes off, it disappears behind the smoke in a blur.
“It’s a car,” Dimitri says. “How close would Levitsky had to have been to detonate the bomb?”
I hear rustling, movement of papers.
“This is really old tech,” Pyotr says. “Junk, really. Cold War era-level shit. He would have needed to be within a few yards.”
I look at Dimitri. “It’s entirely possible he was waiting in a nearby car, set off the bomb, and then sped off.”
“Do you have another angle?” Mikhail asks. “We need a license plate. A make and model. Anything.”
“Hold your horses,” Luka grumbles. “I’m not a fucking miracle worker.”
The wait feels like it lasts for an eternity. While the youngest Antonov furiously types away at his keyboard, my attention is on Dimitri. All things considered, he’s keeping it together. His stress washes off him in waves, every muscle in his neck and shoulders taut and ready to snap. I’m pretty sure he isn’t breathing, grinding his teeth furiously as we wait for Luka’s results.
I reach down and take his hand, but I don’t say anything. There isn’t any need. The soft brush of my skin against his is all it takes to loosen his shoulders. He’s far from okay, but he still manages to give me an appreciative nod.
“Got it,” Luka says, pulling up another video from the exact same day.
This time, our vantage point is from an intersection not even a block away. The same grey, speeding blur crosses directly in front of the camera, giving us a clear look at the attached license plate.
We all breathe a collective sigh of relief.
We’ve got him.
Chapter 37
Dimitri
Turns out, running a search for a license plate through a foreign database from a different country across the Atlantic Ocean is a task even Luka can’t magically take care of.
“I’m going to need time,”he says. “It’s a lot of data to sort through.”
“Howmuchtime?” I seethe.
“Anywhere between a day to a week.”
“What part of ‘I only have twenty-four hours’ did you not understand?”
Mikhail places a firm hand on my shoulder. “Don’t take it out on him, Dima. We’ll have to think of a way to buy some time.”
To say I’m stressed is an understatement. I’m so past the point of being okay that I’m two seconds away from having a full-on meltdown. I feel out of control; mercilessly chewed up, beaten down, and kicked around.
I’m trying so hard to keep it together, but something inside my brain is fracturing. My resolve is seeping out of me, leaving me hollow and gutted. Ineedto get Simon back. The fact that there’s nothing I can do, that everything hinges on Luka’s ability to track down the license plate, makes me sick to my stomach.
What if it was a fake plate? What if the car was stolen? It’s clear by now that Levitsky isn’t stupid. Why would he do something as foolish as use a getaway vehicle registered under his own name?
I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be Mikhail’s right-hand man. I didn’t take my place in the Bratva with some foolish notion that it would be a breeze. Danger is the name of the game. I was fully aware of the risks when I joined, but that was before I knew I had a son. Before I fell in love with the woman now carrying our child. The landscape has shifted, as have my priorities. They didn’t ask to be dragged into this war, but it’s too late to keep them out of it.
“Is there anything we can do in the meantime?” Natalya asks.
“Not really,” Luka grumbles. “Maybe come up with a Plan B while I work on this.”
Natalya reaches down and laces her fingers through mine, giving my hand the lightest of squeezes. “He’s right. What are we going to do if nothing comes up?”
“Itwill,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “It has to.”
“We’ll agree to his terms.” Mikhail’s voice is quiet.
