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“According to Roman’s intel, the Antonovs have a heavier presence there,” I explain. “It would be a mistake to face them head-on where their numbers are far greater than ours. Right now, we need to focus on getting a foothold—that’s all. We can work our way up from there.”
“And what about—”
Three sharp knocks at my door alert us of an unexpected visitor. In walks none other than Detective Gregor Ivanovich, a senior officer with the Moscow Police Department and a massive thorn in my side.
He smiles good naturedly, the corners of his weary eyes crinkling as he does. He’s an older gentleman, pushing sixty-five. Someone his age should be retired by now, but instead, he chooses to make my life a never-ending series of inconveniences.
He’s the only one who’s ever come close to realizing our taxi company is just a front, but without any proof, there’s nothing to officially link my brothers and me to the allegations. That hasn’t stopped him from trying, unfortunately.
The detective removes his hat, revealing a head of thinning white hair. The mustache above his lip matches his two bushy eyebrows, framing tired blue eyes and heavy eyebags.
“Mr. Nicolaevich,” he says, looking only at me. “Might I have a moment of your time?”
Leo stands taller, straighter. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but it will only be a few minutes.”
Samuil’s nostrils flare. He crosses his arms over his chest and stands in the way, more effective than a concrete wall. “Andrei’s busy.”
Detective Ivanovich doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He walks right past my brothers and rounds the desk, studying the map we have laid out. He knows we can’t touch him. If we do, it’ll only open a can of worms. He could claim we assaulted him or something just as ridiculous, bringing down unnecessary heat from the cops. I don’t need them crawling around the taxi depot. We’re careful not to leave any evidence lying around, but you never know with Moscow PD. They’re not above planting evidence to set themselves up for a raid.
And with myguestdownstairs, I’d prefer to deal with Ivanovich as quickly and peacefully as possible.
“Get to work,” I tell my brothers, who immediately take their leave.
Ivanovich smiles down at the map and hums. “What do you have here, Mr. Nicolaevich?”
“My brothers and I are thinking about expanding our service area,” I lie with ease. Smooth and practiced. The detective will have to try much harder to catch me slipping up. “What can I help you with, Detective?”
He casually leans against the edge of my desk, grinning at me like we’re old friends. “Someone phoned in an interesting tip this morning. A witness said they saw a young woman being kidnapped and thrown into the back of a taxi.”
I give him no visible reaction, but on the inside, I’m fuming. I told my brothers to be careful, to make it quick. They assured me they were well out of sight of any street cameras, and there were no witnesses present at the time of Sandra’s kidnapping. I sincerely doubt her bodyguards or Mikhail Antonov called the police for help—because what self-respecting Bratva would dare do such a thing?
“That’s terrible,” I mutter. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“When asked, the witness stated she saw the Nicolaevich Brothers Taxi Company logo on the side of the car. Rather interesting, don’t you think?”
“Surely she’s mistaken. There are plenty of other taxi companies in the city. Perhaps she confused one of our vehicles with someone else.”
“Perhaps,” he says noncommittally. “Would you mind if I look around?”
I set my jaw. I have two options here. The first and most instinctive thing to do is tell him to fuck off. He could be lying about the witness to try and garner a reaction out of me, and he frankly has no grounds to conduct a search. I could claim harassment and be done with it, but that would make me look more guilty.
My second option is to agree to his request. Dangerous, considering I have Sandra locked up in the taxi depot’s supply basement. I want the man to think I have nothing to hide, except that’s the furthest thing from the truth. If he finds her, it’s all over. There’s got to be an alternative.
With a confident smile, I gesture to the door. “Be my guest, detective. We have over three hundred vehicles, and you’re free to check every one of them, though roughly an eighth are currently under maintenance and a third are out making calls. Here’s hoping your search is swift.”
Ivanovich pauses. I’ve called his bluff. An old man scouring the entirety of my depot all by himself? A next to impossible task, though he’s more than welcome to try.
He squints at me, our eyes locked. It’s a staring match now.
“Now that I think about it, the witnesswasstanding across the street,” he says after a moment. “Maybe she was mistaken.”
I force a stiff smile, my lips pressed together into a thin line. “I have a handful of meetings to get to today, detective.”
“Of course, of course. I’ll leave you be. Apologies for the intrusion.”
Except he doesn’t leave right away. He continues to stare me down, waiting for something to give. The old man doesn’t realize it’s going to take a lot more than a hard look and an unspoken threat to make me crack.
