Page 11 of Ruin

All by leaders of the country’s shadowy intelligence services, any of which might also be working for the criminal element at the top of the bratva food chain.

And that didn’t even account for the common criminals who had been the grandfathers of the modern bratva, their descendants who had turned it into a multibillion-dollar enterprise, or the disgruntled factions who felt slighted or overlooked.

“What about Gavriil Dryga?” Roman mused.

Thanks to a centuries-long conflict between Chechnya and Russia, the Chechens had a long-standing rivalry with the Russian government and its people, and Gavriil Dryga had built a multimillion-dollar empire dealing guns when the conflict went underground in the early 2000s.

Mat lifted his eyebrows. “Definitely possible.”

Roman exhaled in frustration. Too many targets, too little time.

“It would help to know who’s come into the country in the past month,” Vasily said. “Whoever orchestrated the shooting at the funeral would have needed time to prepare.”

Roman nodded. “Great idea.”

Vasily tapped his temple and looked smugly at Mat. “Didn’t I tell you? Wisdom.”

It was a simple solution to their current problem, one Roman should have thought of himself. It was the greatest source of his frustration with his recovery: his body bore the visible scars of the shooting, but his mind had also been affected by the aftermath — the intensive surgery, the anesthesia, the pain meds they’d pumped into him in the hospital that he’d since ditched in an effort to think clearly.

“We can grease the wheels at CBP,” Mat said. “Might be expensive, but it can be done.”

Lining the pockets of the paper pushers at Customs and Border Patrol wasn’t an inspired way to spend his dwindling fortune.

And then, like the great grinding of a long-dead machine, he felt the gears of his mind begin to turn. He knew someone who had a world-class cyber lab.

Or not someone exactly, but a group of someones.

“Not necessary,” he said. “I have a better idea.”

7

RUBY

She waited for the men to file out to head to the kitchen. Roman didn’t seem to care if she was around when he conducted business but she was still trying to navigate the increasingly thin line between her old life and the one she’d somehow come to live with Roman.

Would some innocent — someone like her mother — be hurt in the crossfire because of decisions that were made around the dining room table in the loft? Did being in the same room while Roman discussed business — business that almost certainly included illegality and violence — make Ruby complicit? Did being in another room — pretending not to know what was going on like a child with a hand over her eyes and ears — absolve her of responsibility?

She didn’t have the answers. She was barely keeping her head up, barely preventing the scream that had been building ever since Adam stopped answering her calls from emerging from her body like a primal wail.

The situation was what it was. Igor was still alive, and apparently he wasn’t Roman’s only enemy. It was too dangerous for Ruby to go back to her apartment, for her to be anywhere but under Roman’s protection. She couldn’t afford to be careless. Not with Olivia out there somewhere, counting on Ruby to find her.

The kettle was starting to whistle when Roman entered the room. He looked better than he had in the hospital, but he was still thinner than he’d been before the shooting, and there seemed to be new creases around his eyes, as if he’d aged five years in the week he’d been in the hospital.

Unfortunately for her, it did nothing to dampen his appeal. He was as sexy as ever in dark jeans and a white button-down shirt that made it clear he still had muscles to spare.

“Tea?” she asked him.

“Sure.” He’d barely gotten the word out when his phone buzzed.

Ruby caught the name on the display, knew it was Max, who’d insisted on stationing himself in the lobby of Roman’s building along with the two guards who’d been outside since Ruby’s rescue at the grain terminal.

“What is it?” He listened for a few seconds before his eyes darted to Ruby. “Let her up.”

Now he had Ruby’s attention. The only visitors allowed at the loft were the men and Vera, and Vera’s arrival wasn’t announced when she came to cook and clean.

He disconnected the call and looked at Ruby. “Your sister is here.”

Ruby set the kettle on the stove. “Mysister?”

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