by Katie Reus
“No. Of course not.”
“Are you certain? Because not everyone can stomach hurting kids.” There was a certain gleeful note in his voice now that said he would have no problem doing such a thing.
Her palms went clammy. Hurting children? What were they talking about? And why was a detective with him?
“I’m not getting cold feet. I just want to make sure everything is in place. If I’m going to do this—”
“If?”
“I’m doing this. I just meant that I better get paid. I want half of my fee up front. I’m doing more than just looking away this time. I’m going to have to plant evidence. I could get caught. I could lose everything. Because the fire department will be called in this time too. Maybe even the Feds. A bombing of this magnitude—”
“Shut the fuck up. You wired?”
“What—”
There was a brief scuffling sound and she wondered if Polzin was attacking Stanton. Or maybe just patting him down. Either way, she’d heard enough and felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t be caught in this hallway. There was no telling what they would do to her. Not after she’d overheard them talk about a bombing. And hurting children.
She had to tell someone what she’d heard. But first she had to get out of here. As she started to move down the hallway, she heard a sound near the end of it. It could be nothing, but more likely it was Mr. Markov. Oh God, was he involved in this? Of course he was—they’d been talking about him, in his office.
Bile rose in her throat as she tried to digest everything and keep calm. Instead of heading down the way she’d come, she ducked into the nearest room. A bedroom. Leaving the door cracked open slightly so that she was still hidden, she paused and watched as Mr. Markov strode down the hallway toward his office with confidence.
Yep, she definitely had to get out of here. But she wasn’t certain she could make it from the doorway to the end of the hallway without being seen. There was every chance in the world that one of those men would step out and see her.
Shoving back the growing panic spiraling through her, she hurried to the French doors. They were locked, so she unlocked one and eased it open. No alarm sounded so she stepped out onto a small stone patio and locked the door behind her before shutting it. She couldn’t leave any proof that she’d been here.
Of course if she’d had her phone, she could have at least called someone, but she’d left it on the kitchen counter. Thankfully she was on the first floor and was familiar enough with the grounds that she could easily make it to the kitchen.
Heart pounding, she took off across the backyard, sticking to the shadows near the house and avoiding the pool, which was brightly lit up despite not being in use this time of year. At each window, she paused and peeked inside to make sure no one would see her. Most of them were covered. She knew that there were security cameras on the property, but she didn’t think they were this close to the house. It was a risk she would have to take anyway. Because she couldn’t just hang out in a guest room.
When she made it to the side door that led to a room right off the kitchen, she nearly collapsed in relief when it opened. Ducking inside, she glanced around quickly. She was alone. Without wasting a second, she hurried to the kitchen. Her stuff was still there and looked untouched.
Even though every instinct inside her told her to run, if she did that, it would look strange. And she wasn’t sure who to turn to at this point. It was a giant risk to stay here, but if she left now, after security had already seen her—and Mr. Markov no doubt knew she was here—there would be questions. No, she needed to have his meeting with him and act as normal as possible. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do that without throwing up, but somehow she had to keep it together.
As soon as she could, she was going to tell someone that she was here. So she sat down at the center island and quickly texted her sister, letting her know that she was at Mr. Markov’s house, going over the new menu. Then she chugged half of the water bottle, feeling parched and a little out of control. As she set it down, Mr. Markov stepped into the room, moving like a wraith.
“Darcy, you’re here.” His voice was neutral enough, not the normal jovial tone she was used to. Oh, God. Did he know she’d overheard them talking?
She smiled and hoped it looked natural. “I thought I’d get here early since you’re always so punctual.” She let out a short laugh and hoped it didn’t sound strained. Because she felt as if he could see her every thought, and knew what she’d heard.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
“No. I had a chance to go through some emails anyway.” She tried to smile again but couldn’t make her mouth work properly. She wasn’t cut out for this.
“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, concern in his voice. Or maybe it was simply concern for himself.
Darcy realized that she would never be able to hide all her emotions from this man. So she decided to tell a half-truth. Wincing, she said, “Normally I wouldn’t talk about my personal life with a client, but soon you’ll be family. I recently ran into my ex and it kind of threw me off. Our breakup wasn’t pretty. I guess…I’m still trying to deal with it. He called earlier and…” She trailed off, letting out a light laugh. “Sorry for over sharing. This won’t affect my work or anything. I’m just having a bad day. That’s all. I’m embarrassed you even noticed.”
“Ah.” Sighing, he stepped farther into the room and patted her on the back. She resisted the urge to flinch away. “Don’t worry. Any man who let you go is a fool.” He patted her again in a paternal manner, then pulled out the seat next to her, a modicum of relief in his expression.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to get through meeting with him, not when her heart was racing out of control. But if she wanted to survive, she’d better keep it together. “Enough about that. Let’s talk about this menu. The catering menu is slightly different than the restaurant one. Which is better for you. They have some great options.”
Just like that, he was in business mode. Whatever strangeness she’d felt emanating from him only minutes before was gone. So he was convinced that she’d been in here the whole time, that she’d heard nothing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t check security cameras. What if he caught her racing around the back of his house? She had no way of knowing if the cameras were on or… No. Stop. She had to stop thinking about that and focus on the present. As soon as she was done, she would leave and figure out what to do.
She certainly couldn’t call the police. Not when she didn’t know who could be trusted. That man she’d heard talking was definitely a detective. And she’d specifically heard him say “I’m doing more than just looking away this time. I’m going to have to plant evidence.” That was very, very bad.
She could call Brooks. Maybe. She knew Zac Savage had worked with him, and at one point had worked for the government. She was pretty sure that it had been in a federal capacity too. He could have contacts to help her. She wasn’t even sure what she was going to tell him, but she’d heard enough, and the mention of hurting children and a bombing in the same conversation was terrifying.
She couldn’t do nothing. So she sat there for the next half hour going over menu options, when all she wanted to do was give in to her flight instinct. To run and never look back.
* * *
Semyon looked up from his desk as Oleg stepped into his office, his expression grim. “She’s gone.”
“I know.” And he didn’t have time for Oleg’s bullshit tonight. He had too much work to do. His only living son was getting married and he was dealing with something even bigger. Taking out the man he hated more than anything was proving to be the biggest challenge of his life.
He was up to the task, however. His enemy would never see it coming. He’d had nothing growing up on the streets of Chicago. Semyon had clawed his way to where he was. And no one would take it away from him. Especially since his enemy had already taken so much from him. The man had to pay.
“You should let me follow her.” Oleg’s voice was clipped.
“You’re being paranoid—and stupid. You never should have let Turner in this house,” he snapped.
“It wasn’t me—”
“No excuses. At least you were smart enough to turn off the security feeds.” No evidence of the detective ever being here. He would have erased it anyway, but it was better to have not existed at all. He’d already talked to the security guard on duty at the front gate. The man wouldn’t make the mistake of letting Turner in again. “Have you turned them back on?”
“I will. I wanted to talk to you first about Darcy.” Oleg’s tone bothered Semyon but he ignored it for now.
Soon enough he was probably going to have to cut Oleg loose. He would be merciful—a bullet in the back of the head. But his own son had complained about Oleg enough and he didn’t like the way his second-in-command looked at Emma or Darcy. Semyon didn’t think Oleg would ever do anything about it, but Semyon knew the other man’s predilections. For now, however, he needed Oleg. There weren’t many in his organization who he trusted to get their hands quite so dirty. Oleg didn’t balk at any of his requests. Right now, he needed a man like that. “What about her?”
“She shouldn’t be allowed to have free rein here.”
“I asked her here. And last time I checked, this is my house.” He stood as he spoke, his anger growing even as he told himself to keep his annoyance under control.
“I know,” Oleg said, taking a small step back. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “But what if she’d seen the detective?”
He lifted a shoulder. “So what if she had? You let me worry about my family and you worry about our business. And I better not hear that you’re bothering her.” He lowered his voice, taking on the deadly edge Oleg was familiar with. Semyon might need the other man right now but soon enough Oleg would be expendable. He tried not to get his hands too dirty—that was what he had Oleg for—but he had in the past. And he would again now if necessary. Eliminating Alexei Kuznetsov was worth it.
“I just think it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her.”
Semyon clenched his jaw, refusing to explain himself again. He had a feeling he understood what this was about. Oleg was interested in Darcy but she’d made it clear she didn’t care for him. The woman couldn’t hide her emotions. Which was why he’d been temporarily worried when he’d found her in the kitchen, her expression stressed. But he believed her explanation, especially since he’d heard his soon-to-be daughter-in-law talking about Darcy and her ex-boyfriend with Peter. He made a mental note to find out more about the other man.
What kind of fool let a good girl like Darcy get away? He nearly shook his head. The world was full of whores but Darcy and Emma were the right type of women—hard-working, smart and not sluts. He was glad his son had met someone like Emma. Soon he hoped they would give him grandchildren. He wanted to have someone to leave everything to.
His oldest son and wife had been murdered because of Kuznetsov. He wouldn’t lose Peter too. It was why he needed to kill Kuznetsov. And he couldn’t be suspected of it. No, he had to make sure Kuznetsov’s allies and men had someone to blame. Which was what he was working on. Once the man was dead, Semyon planned to move more and more of his businesses to the legal side of things. Paying taxes, becoming respectable. That was the legacy he wanted for his family.
“Fine. I’ll put a man on her.” A lie that should appease Oleg for now. He didn’t like appeasing him at all, but he hadn’t gotten where he was by not listening to his instincts. And lately Oleg had been pushing him. He should bend a little bit. Soon enough, the other man would be dead anyway.
Chapter 6
—I’m going to put an out of order sticker on my forehead and call it a day.—
Sitting in a booth at Dancing Dragon, Darcy tried to remain calm, but her heart rate seemed to be permanently higher, a staccato rhythm in her chest that simply wouldn’t slow down. She hadn’t been able to sleep much last night, tossing and turning as she went over her options. She’d tried to google Semyon Markov but hadn’t found much. Just some articles related to business and other references to individuals who weren’t him.
She’d also looked up that detective, Stanton Turner, and had found more on him. Nothing very useful, however. She knew that she needed to tell someone what she’d heard, but she had to find the right person. Even though she didn’t want to reach out to Brooks, she figured he might be the best bet. He’d known that other detective, Hernandez. What if the detective was dirty too? She might be angry at Brooks, but she had no doubt he was an honest man. But that didn’t mean his contacts and friends were.
As Olivia and Zac approached the table, she forced herself to smile. They’d asked her to meet them at this restaurant to go over a few things. Since their wedding was being fast-tracked, they’d jumped straight to the final stages of most wedding planning. As she slid out of the booth to greet them, she knocked over her glass of water.
It happened in slow motion, and though she tried to stop it, she was a jittery mess. It clanked against the table and as it rolled off, she bent to grab it but Zac was faster. He moved like a ninja, snapping it out of the air before it could hit the floor. There was still water everywhere, but at least no broken glass.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. Oh God, she couldn’t have a breakdown now. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken this meeting at all. She was still reeling from everything she’d heard last night. And she couldn’t even tell her sister because she didn’t want to inadvertently put Emma in danger. Darcy didn’t trust Peter now and knew her sister wouldn’t be able to keep a secret from him. The only thing she knew was that the men last night said something would be happening in a week. A week. She had to figure out who she could trust.
“It’s no big deal,” Olivia said, reaching for the napkins.
Zac murmured the same but watched her carefully. Avoiding his gaze, Darcy grabbed some napkins as well and started cleaning up. Or tried to. Zac took over for the two of them. By the time he’d finished, their server had arrived and gathered the wet napkins.
Laughing nervously, she sat across from them. “I promise not to spill anything else this morning.”
“Is everything okay?” Zac asked, his tone neutral with a slight thread of concern. It was the most emotion she’d read off him so far.
She nodded out of habit. “Yes, of course. I think I just need more coffee.” Another nervous laugh. “But I’m ready to get down to business if you are.” She set her binder on the large table to the right of her.
Olivia nodded, smiling. “The main thing I want to get taken care of is my bridesmaids dresses. One of the women is out of town now but will be back soon—and fair warning, she’ll be difficult. She hates wearing dresses, but it’s happening. Overall, I don’t want everyone to look exactly alike either. There should be some freedom in their styles.”
Before Darcy could respond, an attractive Asian man stepped up to the table. In dark slacks, a white button-down shirt and with a pretty-boy face, he smiled easily at them, even winking at Olivia. Zac’s expression turned slightly dark.
The man spoke in a language Darcy didn’t understand as he focused on Olivia.
Olivia shook her head. “I still don’t speak Korean, Hwan.” Her voice was dry. “But if you want to learn ASL, I’ll teach you.”
Hwan laughed, the sound rich. “My mom will teach you Korean and you can teach me ASL.”
Savage let out a growl. An actual growl.
Hwan, clearly unfazed, continued, “Good to see you guys again. Though I’m sad Skye isn’t with you.”
“Are you really sad?” Olivia’s voice was teasing. “Last time she almost demolished your entire buffet.”
“It’s worth it to see her eat. I don’t know where she puts it all. Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and let you know that today is on the house.” When Olivia went to protest, he waved his hand in the air. “It’s not up for discussion. It’s on me
. Your server will be here in a moment.” Then he gave Zac what Darcy could only describe as a cheeky grin and left.
“One day…” Zac trailed off, shaking his head.
“He only does it to get under your skin. He’s just a big ole flirt,” said Olivia.
“You’re the only one he ever flirts with.”
Darcy smiled at their banter and glanced out the window into the parking lot. Was it her imagination, or had that SUV across the street been following her this morning? She’d seen it earlier, then it had disappeared as she’d pulled into the parking lot of Dancing Dragon. It could be a different vehicle, but there was a little red and white sticker in the top left corner that made it distinguishable. But…she was pretty sure that was a diving sticker or something.
When she felt Olivia’s gentle hand on her own, she nearly jumped out of her skin—and was glad they didn’t have any more drinks on the table, because she would have certainly knocked another one over. Oh God, they were totally going to fire her if she kept this up. She was acting like a shaky mess.
Before anyone could say anything, their server arrived and took their order. Despite what she’d said about needing more coffee, she ordered water. She didn’t need anything else to make her jittery.
Once they were alone, Zac leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table. “Okay, I’m going to be blunt. Something is wrong. Is it personal? Or is this something else? Because you’re pale and look scared.”
Was she really that transparent? She opened her mouth once, then snapped it shut. She couldn’t tell them. Could she? She knew that Zac used to work for the government. At least according to Brooks. Maybe Zac would have contacts. Brooks had always been vague on the details, but right now Zac and Olivia both were looking at her like they wanted to help her.