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A small smile appeared on her face. “Not even with some information on Davorin?”
I sat right back down. “Spill or I am killing you.”
She laughed. “All right, he has no known addresses, right? But I did some digging and, on my flight here, watched a lot of street-camera footage, to try to catch a glimpse of him, once I narrowed down his most frequent whereabouts.”
I nodded and looked at the laptop in front of her as she began to type. “Now, this is the street where it all disappears. I tried tracking his work phone, and it worked enough to give me a building, but I don’t know which apartment it is exactly.”
I grinned. “Give me the address. Tonight, I’m going on a hunt.”
S I X
WHEN Xenia told me she didn’t know which apartment belonged to Davorin, I hadn’t fully grasped how big the building was. Since I knew for a fact he would never live in such a neighborhood—it was too fancy to match his personality—I assumed it wasn’t a full apartment and more of a studio.
From what I’d gathered from the internet, each of the building’s six floors had two of them, all of which were currently being rented out; however, the names of their tenants weren’t on any lists. Not that I’d expected it to be that easy.
I thought of coming up with a pathetic excuse, something like my husband cheating and using their studio to do so, so I needed a key to catch him in the act, but quickly dismissed the idea. Aside from the fact that he likely wasn’t using his own name, I had no idea what he actually looked like, and describing his hair and eye color alone wouldn’t get me very far.
“All right, I got all the names of the tenants.” Xenia didn’t wait for a greeting once I picked up the phone—she immediately got to work. “And the thing is… no one of his description matches any of the residents.”
“How the hell did you find that out so quickly?”
“I called the landlord and had him email me everything. I made up some shit about someone being an addict and using the place to sell drugs, and he sent it right away,” she stated as if it was an obvious idea.
I chuckled—her way had worked much better than mine would’ve.
“So what do we have? List them out for me please.” I’d parked right across from the building, my engine still running, and had been watching it closely while I waited for her call. Not a single person had left or entered since I’d arrived.
“Four out of six studios are rented by university kids. I looked into them briefly, and they’re all real people. However, one of them seemed… a little bit suspicious. A girl who, up until four years ago, didn’t exist. I’m trying to see if maybe her records were sealed, but it seems the most likely explanation. She’s in apartment number fifteen.”
I hummed. “Fine. I’ll check it out,” I announced whilst unbuckling my seat belt and killing the engine. “In the meantime, find out when Dominik is coming and if Viktor is coming with him. I’d hate to be surprised.”
“Aye aye, captain,” she mocked and hung up the phone.
With a sigh, I slipped out of the car and locked it behind me. I checked, for the fifth time, to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. My gun and a lock-picking set were tucked into my pants. I felt uneasy crossing the street, for way too many reasons; surprisingly, only one of them was related to Davorin.
The biggest concern was why the hell he’d got a lease under someone else’s name. And if that wasn’t the case, and this girl was the key, who the hell was she to him? Of course, he might simply have been visiting someone, though his visits seemed too frequent for that. Unless it was his wife.
Was that son of a bitch married?
A low chuckle slipped past my lips, and I shook my head. There was no way a woman existed with enough sanity and patience to put up with that man. His insufferable personality mixed with the danger he brought wherever he went meant he wasn’t exactly a chick magnet.
I went inside the building, politely greeting the doorman and an elderly woman who passed by. As great as this neighborhood was, it still lacked. For example, the elevator was out of order, and as someone who wasn’t all that athletic anymore, taking too many stairs threatened to wear me out completely.
By the time I reached apartment fifteen, I was barely breathing. It took me a few moments to regain my composure, though my feet were numb. I shouldn’t have worn heels. Louboutins were definitely only made to look at, not wear, and certainly not to climb stairs.
I took a deep breath and simply stared at the freshly painted door. The number was white, contrasting starkly with the deep brown paint.
I inched forward, repeating the mantra in my head.Everything’s going to be all right, Ekaterina, I chanted.You need to do this.
Instinctively, my hand grabbed the metal doorknob. It was cold, as if no one had come here in a while. Though it was most likely wishful thinking, I prayed to God that Davorin wasn’t in there.
Get in, snoop around, get out.
I tried twisting the knob first.
I didn’t need the lock-picking tools—the door was unlocked already.
Shaking off the anxiety that was slowly building deep inside my stomach, I pushed the door open and let myself in. It was pitch-black, and I struggled to find the light switch for a while. However, the good news was that he wasn’t home—I would’ve felt his presence.
