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“It’s the guy who went to the apartment looking for her when we picked her up,” Nik says. “He is an officer at the Nineteenth Precinct.”
I grind my teeth together; I need to talk to Ivan.
It took several phone calls and a threatening message to get Ivan to respond.
“Where is she?” I demand.
I’m pacing the plane, and I rip off Igor’s headphones startling him awake. “I want the pilot to understand speed,” I bark at him, and he darts up to the cockpit.
“Lake Mead Cemetery,” Ivan says. “Appears to be an incident with her mother, there is a police presence so I’m hanging back, but I have an eye on her.” My first thought swings to Antonio.
“Any signs of the Cosa Nostra?”
“Nyet. Just a couple local cops, an NYPD officer, and her mother. She appears intoxicated.”
My stomach drops when I hear his last words. I know firsthand the lengths Kate was willing to go for her mother—to get her help. I hate that I’m not there; instead, Officer Conley is. I blow out a breath, rage simmering below the surface.
“Stay with her until I get there. I want updates on the hour.”
I throw the phone into my chair and rub my forehead. Nik eyes me, and I grimace.
“What?” I snap.
“Nothing,” Nik smirks.
* * *
The updatesthat Ivan provided did little to ease my irritation; in fact, they fueled it. Ivan said he was following both Kate and Officer Conley back to her mother’s house. The next update I received was that they were both still inside several hours later.
The wait was torture. The plane still in the air—torture. I try to close my eyes to get some sleep, but all I see is Kate.
I meet a driver as soon as I deplane.
“She is on her way to coffee with Derek.” Ivan gives his last update over the phone, and I want to shoot something. I don’t speak on the way to Lake Mead, and for the first time, I turn my phone off. My mind is relentless, and I’m falling into the trap—the trap my father was determined to keep me from.
Ivan meets me at the small-town coffee shop, and I swap vehicles. I’m second-guessing everything.What am I doing here?I’m glued to the back seat, and I stare out the window, spiraling out of control.
“Sir?” Ivan moves to get out of the driver seat, but I hold out a hand.
“I got it.” I say opening the door and doing up the last button on my suit jacket. I make my way to the coffee shop, noting the closing time is 9 p.m.
Looking at my watch, it’s fifteen till and I step into the shop. A few tables line the perimeter, but the space is small. Kate is sitting with Derek her back to me. Desire flares in Derek’s eyes as he brushes a thumb over her hand. She pulls it away.
Good girl.
I step to the counter, ordering a small decaf to go, and head over to the table.
“Kate,” I say. My voice is stern, and she jumps, lifting her head to my eyes, and the control that was slipping for most of the plane ride is tethered.
Shock peppers her features, and she blinks. Once. Twice. “Luka. What are you doing here?” Her eyes flick to Derek, then back to me.
“Ivan and I came to offer you a ride.” My eyes bore into hers, willing her to come with me.
“Oh. Um, Luka, this is Derek. Derek this is—”
“Luka Morozov.” Derek cuts her off.
He extends his hand to mine, and I stare down at him, letting his hand float there for a beat before I take it and smirk.So, the New York cop knows the rich billionaire’s name. Good.
