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And now he had a last name to go with the first, which meant he could do a lot more digging before he confronted Ruby with all the facts.
“Thank you,” Adam said. "I owe you one.”
Paulie studied him with narrowed eyes. “You're not going to go after this guy are you?”
Adam knew he had a less-than-stellar reputation on the force. Some of his fellow officers were his drinking buddies, but others, guys like Paulie — like Adam’s partner, Deon — who thought they had a code of honor or some other bullshit, looked at Adam with judgment in their eyes because of his reputation for losing his temper.
“Not in the way you probably mean,” Roman said.
“Good because there's something else I remember about Igor Kalashnik’s son,” Paulie said. “Something we learned on background.”
“What's that?”
“The son is a real bruiser,” Paulie said. “Has a temper. Like you. Except he fights in the underground clubs that we tried to break up a few years ago,” Paulie said. “Has a reputation for being a real killer.”
Adam nodded. “Thanks for the info.”
He wasn't afraid of fucking Roman Kalashnik. Adam had the goods on the asshole now. There was no way Ruby knew who and what Kalashnik really was, because if she did, there was no way she would've let him in her bed.
No way.
The information was Adam's golden ticket. And it was just the beginning.
You like to fight, asshole? Let’s fight.
19
ROMAN
The sun was high overhead, but it was still cold as Roman boarded the ferry at Liberty Island and made his way to the top deck.
It had been a long morning.
First, the scramble to get dressed and face Adam and Olivia in Ruby’s apartment. Then a ferry ride to Liberty Island where he’d exited the boat and waited for the next one to board again.
It was a lot of subterfuge, a lot of effort to keep his meeting a secret from his father, but Roman couldn't afford to make any mistakes.
He was almost there.
He emerged on the top deck among a crowd of tourists as the ferry pulled away from the pier. He stuffed his gloved hands in his pockets as he scanned the crowd, then made his way around to the other side.
He was starting to worry that he’d gotten the timing wrong when he spotted the suited figure looking out over the water, his back to the crowd of passengers, some sitting and some standing, almost all of them taking pictures as the boat approached its next stop at Ellis Island.
Roman moved past them and stepped up to the railing next to the man in the suit.
“Is there something symbolic about your choice of meeting place?” Mikhail Lavrov said without turning to look at him.
“Not necessarily,” said Roman. “Although now that you mention it, it’s an apt metaphor for liberation, if a little on the nose.”
“I thought as much.” Clearly, Mikhail knew why Roman had asked to meet with him.
“I'm sure you agree that it would be ill-advised for us to meet in the city,” Roman said.
“Ill-advised for you,” Mikhail said, his breath clouding the frigid air as he looked out over the water, shimmering in the sunlight. He’d been born and raised in Moscow and his accent was still pronounced.
Roman nodded, because Mikhail was right. Until Mikhail agreed to help him, Roman was the bearer of all the risk. As it stood, Mikhail, a high-ranking member of the Spies, had simply agreed to a meeting — subject unknown — with the pakhan’s son.
“And yet, you came,” Roman said.
