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I winced. Well, it was worth a try.
Michael had his head tucked under my chin and was crying silently, his tears leaking through my shirt. Miguel was staring at me, amused. He turned to comment to Boris, who was drinking down his booze like he didn’t want to be sober for putting a bullet in my head.
Boris’s phone rang.
He checked it and scowled. “I need to take this. Don’t do anything until I get back.”
He walked away before picking up, robbing me of the chance to yell for help. Not that I had any idea who was on the other end of that call. But I had to think of something.
My little boy was depending on me to figure out a way for us to survive this. But right now, all I could do was think of Viktor, and wish he was here again to stand steadfast between me and danger.
Chapter 23
Viktor
Iburied myself in paperwork after my goodbye call to Olivia, trying my best to distract myself from the hollow ache inside me. Olivia. Best lover I had ever had, brave enough to risk her life to help save mine. Dedicated mother to my son. Could she really be the one betraying me?
She didn’t know enough to explain all the problems that had cropped up. Just the details about the auctions. She could still be involved, but someone else had been leaking intel as well.
Who knew my schedule, my methods and plans? Who knew that I was seeing Olivia, or that she’d already borne my son?The questions nagged at me as I went through the copy of Mischka’s autopsy I had ordered.
No signs of foul play. No toxin residues, no injuries. Death by natural causes. At least I didn’t have to avenge him too. Not like Ivan.
Ivan, whose murder had turned this from a cold war to a hot one. A murder right under Boris’s nose.
…Boris.
A nagging suspicion tugged at me faintly. He certainly knew all of my schedule, my plans, my habits. He knew about Olivia, and about Michael. He had known about the auction.
He knew everything that I knew.
Could that Maria woman possibly have pumped him for that much information during their drunken night together? Or…?
Boris was acting bizarrely lately, and he had bungled guarding Ivan and then bungled again catching the assassin. I had wondered if my long-term friend was becoming an alcoholic, that the years of heavy drinking were starting to take their toll. But what if there was more to it?What if he did it deliberately?
Frowning, I picked up my phone and called our contact in the Cambridge PD to see if they had gotten anything on Maria, or on Boris. I still didn’t want to believe that he had anything to do with the efforts against me, but whatever the truth was, I had to face it.
Detective Jorgensen answered immediately. “Evening, sir.”
“Yes, good evening. I need to follow up with you on the whole Boris and Maria matter.” I tried to keep my voice as calm and breezy as usual.
“Well, I had a couple of things come in from the webcrawler, including some CCTV stills. Your man has definitely been hanging out with some unsavory characters, but there aren’t any women among them.”
My frown deepened. “Who, then?”
“I’ll send you an email with the photos attached, check your junk mail as I’ll use an anonymous address. Expect it within a few minutes, I want to make sure I have them all.”
“Fine, fine,” I said impatiently. “Can you give me the basics?”
“Hispanic, maybe Puerto Rican, good looking, around five nine, curly dark hair, epic mustache.”
“A Puerto Rican…man?” My mind was already racing. What was going on? Had Boris forgotten the Bratva and our friendship, and taken bribes from the other side?
“That’s right, sir. No ID on him yet. I’ll let you know as soon as that changes.”
“Yes, do that. And send everything over that you have immediately.”
Once he was off the phone, I called Boris. The phone rang several times before he picked up. “So. Finally decided to speak with me again, huh?”
