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The only people who can reach me when I’m on Do Not Disturb are the members of my family who don’t call unless there’s an emergency: my brothers and father. I can’t afford to add my mother to that list or my phone would ring nonstop.
With a grunt, I reach for the stupid thing and bark, “What?” as I accept the call, not even checking the screen.
I’ve seen my brother far too much the last couple of weeks.
“Is that a way to greet your father, Marius?”
Oh, shit.
Eriks never calls. He’s a texting kind of guy. He summons us—immediately—when he needs us, and that’s it.
“Sorry. I thought it was Markus.”
“Ah, well.” Eriks sighs. “He occasionally does test everyone’s patience. Your brother let me know there might be developments in our online situation, but that you were the one to talk to.”
That little snitch.
I don’t have to askwhichbrother went running to Daddy.
“Father, with all due respect, I don’t think you should intervene at this point.”
He marks a pause. “Oh?”
I know that tone and it isnot good.
“Yes. It’s…complicated. We don’t have a suspect, as such—more like a subject of interest. And squeezing too hard won’t yield results.”
“There are ways to make people talk.”
I know his ways; they make mine look like child’s play.
My father might bear the name of his own father, Goltz, but he’s a Volkov all the way. His mother was a mafia princess, and she promptly handed him over to her own father the moment he was born. Raised alongside the heirs to the bravta, he grew up with a rigid sense of loyalty, a gray moral compass, and zero notion of right and wrong.
He instilled all three in us, though our mother made it quite clear she didn’t want us sent away for the first twelve years, as he and his cousin had been.We were spared any involvement until we finished high school—then, at my father’s insistence, we were sent together on a one-year training camp.
The brotherhood honed our skills, teaching us just how dangerous we can be in that year. I can’t imagine what training as intense as my father’s would have turned us into.
I think things through before wording my next sentences. “This lead…they may or may not be innocent. They’re definitely not the main player. They didn’t post the video. They didn’t receive the cash the board sent to keep them quiet. And they’re being observed, closely.”
I’m careful to keep what I reveal gender neutral, not giving him an inch to go on.
My father takes a moment to consider what I’ve given him, which isn’t much. “It’s a delicate situation, Marius. Many heirs to great families were at your little get-together,you included. I want this resolved swiftly. And there has been another threat, another demand for more money. As expected.”
Dammit.
I was certain that would happen; why would the blackmailer stop when their first time worked out?
“Are you sending it out?”
“The board is discussing options.”
No wonder Magnus felt necessary to give him crumbs. And now, Eriks is going to tell them that his son might have a scent to follow, and they’ll be on my neck for results.
Shit, shit, shit.
I’m running out of time, and there’s very little doubt that my father will learn about Sarah. He need only lean on his favorite kid to have her name.
“Can you push for time? Just give me until the end of the weekend?” I ask.
