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Dimitri lived in a quaint little suburban area, dotted with dogwood trees and quiet family homes. Nobody would’ve suspected his involvement in the Bratva, and that’s how he liked it. He was more secretive than most, but I don’t blame him. He probably did it to keep Lily safe.
I respect him even more, realizing his intentions. If there was ever a man who deserved to live forever, it was him. Regret still sits in my stomach from my inability to visit him more often before he passed.
The funeral hit me just as hard as it hit Lily, but I’d never show it. The life of every man who wears a ruby pinky ring is sacred to me.
I turn up my coat collar as I walk it to Donovan’s car. He’s already outside smoking a cigarette, looking down the street like he expects the Red Hitters to come rolling down any minute.
“You look like you got a good night’s sleep,” he says, flicking his cigarette butt into the street.
“Don’t get started with me,” I grumble. “I was initiating Lily last night. Very busy evening.”
“Busy doing what?” he asks with a lopsided grin.
I push him with my shoulder. “None of your business, actually. We’re focused on Project G this morning.”
“The big mystery…”
“It’s going to be a big money maker once it’s brought to life. I have reason to believe that Dimitri was close to finishing before his death. He put a lot of hours in, even when he was sick.”
“Say what you will, but the man was dedicated,” Donovan says with a palpable note of admiration in his voice.
“More than most, and that’s why the research is so important. He poured his final years into it, and everything he did was purely selfless. There aren’t any tricks here to make it look better than it really is. Dimitri was working on something incredible, and he tried his best to complete it before he died.”
“Project G,” Donovan mutters. “I still have no idea what that means.”
I turn toward Dimitri’s house, walking quickly, but not at a suspiciously fast pace. If the Red Hitter are here, they’ll recognize me anyway, but I also don’t want to attract wander eyes from civilians either. They’re likely to call the police if they notice Donovan and I enter Dimitri’s house through the back.
“You won’t know what it means until we get the research,” I say to Donovan as he comes up beside me. “Once I get it, I may need your help deciphering it.”
“I hope he didn’t write it in code,” he replies, only half-joking.
“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” I say with a thin laugh. “We’ll just have to deal with whatever antics he cooked up before he passed. I’m sure he wouldn’t have made it take difficult, considering he knew he was sick.”
“True,” Donovan mutters, but it sounds more like a hope than any sort of real agreement.
The truth is, we don’t know what Dimitri did with the research. He would’ve wanted to keep it hidden from prying eyes, especially since he was so close to finishing it. It could be hidden very well in the house, or in plain sight. We won’t know until we start looking.
Once we reach Dimitri’s yard, we circle around the back of the house, watching closely for traps. He lived a fairly regular life, and Lily was over often, so I doubt there’s anything that he set, but I wouldn’t put it past the police to leave something behind for nosey people like Donovan and me.
A gust of wind rustles the trees as we creep toward the back door. A few birds chirp, and the sun rises slowly in the sky. It’s already hot today. The rain has passed, and the sun is back out, shining like a death ray and promising a much hotter day ahead.
Arriving at the door, I see the determination on Donovan’s face. His hand is already in his jacket pocket, clutching a gun in case there’s trouble. We have to hope for the best but be prepared for the worst in situations like this.
We have backup, but they can’t be close enough to save us if things go south too quickly. They have to stay back so they don’t draw attention to themselves, so we’re in this alone.
Danger levels are high, but I’ve been in worse situations.
Donovan leans against the back door as I pull out a key. Dimitri gave it to me years ago for emergencies, and assuming he didn’t change his locks in the past few years, it should get us into the house without having to pick any locks.
I pull open the screen door, inserting the key into the lock and twisting it. The lock clicks open with a smooth metallic sound.
I look at Donovan with a grim smile. “We’re in.”
16
Ivan
The house is dark and hot when we enter, drenched in the deafening silence of a thousand memories. They’re worn into the carpet when we step into the hallway, painted on the walls as we walk down it to his office at the far end of the house.
