by Roxie Rivera
“When the fuck did you become Dr. Phil?”
Kostya chortled and sipped his coffee. “I’ve had a lot of time to think the last few weeks. I’m feeling all the time I’ve wasted. All the time I’ve lost scuttling around in the dark. I’m tired of all of it.”
Artyom’s eyebrows rose. “You want out?”
Kostya exhaled a long, slow breath. “Yes.”
“Nikolai would let you go tomorrow, but the old man…” Artyom shook his head. “I don’t know, Kostya. It could get dangerous. Especially with the Holly problem,” he commented worriedly. “You know how possessive the old man can be.”
“I do.” Knowing Artyom was trying to be a good friend, he said, “I’ll be careful.”
“What the hell are we going to do without you?”
“I have contingency plans in place,” he promised. “Some of my spiders are more than capable of taking over for me, and we can always promote someone from within the ranks.”
“Like?”
“Boychenko,” he said.
“The kid?” Artyom asked incredulously. “He’s not made for your kind of work.”
“We don’t what that Boy’s capable of because he’s never been given a chance,” Kostya countered. “I think he could be taught to be a good cleaner. He’s a blank slate. He has no bad habits to break. He’s a sponge waiting to be filled with knowledge.”
Artyom grumbled low and took a thoughtful drink of his coffee. “The boss won’t like it.”
“He doesn’t have to like it. He just has to trust me.”
“Good luck convincing him of that.” Artyom swirled the coffee in his cup with a slight movement of his wrist. “You didn’t wake me up to talk about Holly and Scorpion. Why are you really here?”
“Gabe Reyes called me. He’s working with someone I trust, and he wanted me to know that a kill squad came across the border yesterday. They’re headed here.”
“It’s finally happening, huh?”
“Yes. Today.”
“Of all the fucking days! We’re already stretched thin on the streets, and we’ve got two teams on Erin and Bianca.”
“When do Ivan and Sergei get back?”
“Tonight. Should I call them back earlier?”
Kostya shook his head. “It might tip the cartel off that we know.”
“What’s your plan?”
“We bait a trap.”
“With?” Artyom’s face slackened as he seemed to put the pieces together. “You want to use the women as bait?”
“As much as it turns my stomach, using Vivian and the others is probably the easiest way to catch these assholes. They want to hurt Nikolai personally for the way he supported the coup against Lorenzo. Going after his wife or the wives of his friends is the way to do that.” Worried Artyom might be badly distracted, he asked, “Chess?”
“She and Aly are in Los Angeles on business. They’re staying at Disneyland for a few days.”
“Good. We know they’re safe.”
“And the others? Are they going to be safe? What if we fuck up?”
“We won’t.” He tried to sound certain, but there was always a chance that things would go south.
Artyom blew out a noisy breath and wiped his hand across his face. “I’m going to need more coffee.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“YOU SURE YOU don’t want me to bring you something? Maybe some soup?” Savannah offered, her voice filled with concern. “Or I can run you to urgent care if you think you need fluids or medicine.”
I hated lying to my best friend. “No, I’m starting to feel better. I’m going to rest and focus on rehydrating myself.”
“Seriously, though, how many times have I told you not to eat that garbage grocery store sushi?”
“I know. I’m paying for it now.”
“Okay, well, if you change your mind about soup or a ride, call me. I’m staying late to get catch up on some paperwork and inventory and restocking.”
“Be careful, Savvy. Those boxes are heavy, and unpacking them is a two-person job.”
“Lana is staying late with me. I’m training her on our inventory systems. She’s ready to take on more responsibility.”
“Maybe talk to her a little bit about community college,” I suggested. “She’s so smart, Savvy, and I don’t want her to miss out on opportunities.”
“I’m right there with you on that, Holly. I’ll talk to her. I’ll ask her to look into HCC or Lone Star. The only hurdle will be her English fluency.”
“She’s really making a lot of headway. I’m sure there are classes she can take to help her become more fluent. We can call the admissions offices and see what they recommend. It can’t hurt to ask.”
“I agree.” She paused, and I could hear her being paged by Billie. “They need me back on the floor. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“Take care, hon.”
Hanging up the burner phone that Fox had given me, I settled back into the cozy couch and closed my eyes. I didn’t like lying. It made me feel gross. Deep down, I knew that Savannah would understand why I was telling tales, but it didn’t make me feel any better.
“You’re protecting them by lying,” Fox said from behind a massive bank of computer screens on the other side of the open living area. She had been monitoring different security feeds and traffic cameras all day. Her phone would ring every half hour or so and she’d give someone—Sunny, possibly—an update.
“I know,” I replied glumly. Glancing at her surveillance setup, I asked, “How are things going?”
“Quiet, mostly,” she said and pushed out of her chair. “I’m headed to the kitchen. You want anything?”
I shook my head and gestured to the leftover pizza on the table. “I’m still full.”
“I’ll stick the rest of this in the refrigerator.” She snatched up the box on her way to the kitchen. “Do you want another drink?”
“I’m good.”
“Did you get a hold of your mom yet?” she yelled over the sound of ice cubes blasting her cup.
“No,” I called back. “That’s not unusual, though. She’s always in meetings and taking calls. I sent her a text, and it was read so she knows I’m taking a personal day to help a friend.”
“You think she’ll buy it?” Fox asked, coming back into the living area with three Dr. Pepper cans clamped between her left arm and her body and a full glass in the other. “Because if she goes by your house and you’re not there and she starts poking around…”
“She won’t go by the house without calling me first. She’s always been very respectful about my privacy.”
“Because she caught you in flagrante delicto once before?” she guessed with a teasing smile.
My face got hot just remembering the one and only time my mother had ever barged into my bedroom and found me flat on my back, legs in the air, with my then-boyfriend’s head buried between my thighs. “I was twenty and home on summer break. It was super embarrassing.”
Fox laughed. “That’s one of the perks of not having family, I guess. Nobody ever bothered me about sneaking a little afternoon delight.”
“No family? Did you grow up in foster care?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t horrible like a Lifetime movie or anything. I had some really nice foster parents. I was older when I went into system—seven—and I had some behavior issues so I wasn’t ever top of the list for adoption.” She shrugged. “I had a pretty good childhood all the same. I’d already finished high school at sixteen, and my last foster mom helped me get everything together so I could be emancipated at seventeen. Never really looked back after that.”
“Do you keep in touch with any of the families that fostered you?”
“Sure. Christmas and birthday cards. That kind of thing.”
A knock at the door interrupted us. Fox instantly produced a handgun from behind her desk and tapped on her keyboard. She relaxed after a few stiff, apprehensive moments and tucked the
gun back away in her desk. “It’s Sunny.”
“I’ll get it.” I rose from the couch and answered the door, being careful not to show my face as I opened it. As soon as Sunny stepped through the door, I recognized her. The fuchsia and orchid mohawk she was sporting had been one of my most favorite styles to come out of our salon in the last few weeks. “You’re one of Nisha’s clients!”
“Yep,” she said, shifting the white plastic shopping bag from one hand to the other. She shut and locked the door behind her. “Don’t answer the door again.”
Her strict tone took me by surprise. “Okay.”
“Seriously, Kostya will have our asses if anything happens to you.” Sunny’s appraising gaze swept the townhouse. She frowned at the television screen. “Is she making you watch all her superhero movies?”
“They’re fun,” I said, feeling a little defensive of Fox. “I needed the mental escape.”
“If she starts throwing comics at you, run. You’ll end up listening to her argue about which comic storyline the MCU needs to adapt next. Secret Wars versus Secret Invasion versus Wang the Conqueror—”
“It’s Kang the Conqueror,” Fox corrected grumpily. “You go see Nate for info?”
“Yeah.” Sunny held out the plastic shopping bag. “He sent you a gift from his grandma.”
“Ooh!” Fox reacted with excitement and rushed away from her monitors. “Tamales! Gimme!”
Sunny held it away from her. “Promise me you will not eat the whole dozen tonight.”
Fox rolled her eyes. “Stop policing my food intake.”
“Don’t call me whining for Tums at three in the morning.” Sunny handed over the package.
“I’ll call Max,” Fox replied, taking the package in both hands and hugging it close. “She won’t let me suffer.”
“Max and Lobo are out of pocket.”
“What? When?”
“Daddy’s orders,” Sunny said. “He wanted them out of town. Max took Lobo to IAH, picked a flight and they’re on their way to New York.”
“City? Or state?”
“Both, apparently. They’re going to spend a couple of days doing the tourist thing in the city and then a couple of days at a B&B in Sleepy Hollow.”
“What! That was my idea!” Fox pouted. “I was going to take Lobo to Sleepy Hollow and Salem! We were going to do the whole Sanderson Sisters thing!”
Sunny shrugged. “Take her again. Kid needs to get out more anyway. She spends too much time practicing her weapons drills and—”
“Kid?” I interrupted, trying to follow their conversation. “How old is Lobo?” Another thought struck me. “Is she his daughter?”
“No!” The both answered in unison before exchanging a worried glance.
Fox eventually answered me. “He found Lobo when she was a little girl. He brought her back to Houston, and we sort of all adopted her.”
“Technically, Max did adopt her,” Sunny corrected. “She’s Lobo’s guardian until she turns eighteen.”
“But she’s a kid,” I interjected, aghast at the idea of someone young being pulled into all this bullshit. “Why is a teenager being exposed to this?” My stomach dropped. “Is he…is he training her? To kill people? To clean up crime scenes?”
Sunny seemed uncomfortable. “Look, I think these are questions you should address to Kostya.”
“You’re damn right they are,” I grumbled, getting to my feet and taking my new phone with me. Sunny and Fox started to argue in low voices as I marched into the bedroom I’d been given and closed the door. Feeling sick to my stomach at the idea of a little girl being taught to do the horrible things Kostya did, I angrily tapped a message to him.
Are you seriously training a teenager to do your job? WTF, Kostya!
I paced the room as I waited for his response. My stomach churned even more when I started to understand that I had no idea what other secrets he had. Until last night, I’d been able to convince myself that his mysterious, illegal work didn’t affect me in any way. I hadn’t been forced to confront the reality of what he did.
He kills people.
He killed for me.
I rubbed my face with both hands and wondered what it said about me that I wasn’t as bothered about him killing Scorpion. The man had tried to kill us both. It was easier to excuse what he’d done because our lives had been in danger. I told myself it was different than if Kostya had just killed someone to protect the illicit business of the mafia.
But he’s done that.
All of the news stories about gangland style murders and the street violence raced through my head. How many had he been involved in? How many other crimes had never been reported because he’d made them disappear like the body in my house?
It struck me then that the same hands that touched me so lovingly were the same hands that had done terrible, violent things. As much as it pained me to admit, I would welcome those hands back on me in a heartbeat. Love hadn’t blinded me to his faults. It had only made it easier to accept them. I accepted Kostya for the man he was instead of the man I desperately wanted him to be.
A series of alarms interrupted my troubled thoughts. I hurried out of the bedroom and into the living area where Fox and Sunny were talking quickly and staring at the many computer monitors. Fox moved from station to station, tapping her keyboards and cursing up a storm.
“Shit.” Sunny’s brow furrowed. “That’s the Markovic place, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Do we have eyes on the wife?” she asked, leaning forward.
“Erin,” I said, rushing to join them. “Her name is Erin.”
There were multiple security system feeds on the monitors. My gaze moved to the monitor that had taken all of Sunny’s focus. A brown delivery truck was parked in front of Erin’s luxurious home. There were men in matching uniforms and guns standing on the porch and inside the entryway of the house. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of a bald man on the floor, face down and in a pool of blood. He looked familiar, like one of the guards that sometimes came to the salon with Vivian.
“K, you’ve got five assholes at the Markovic house,” Sunny said into her phone. “Looks one of your men is down. It’s Arty. I’m looking for Erin now—”
“There,” Fox said, pointing at a monitor. “They’ve got her.”
My attention jumped to the screen Fox indicated. Erin, her hands cuffed in front of her and some kind of fabric stuffed in her mouth, struggled with two men trying to drag her out of the house. I covered my mouth to stifle my shocked gasp. Both of her feet were off the ground as she kicked and twisted, throwing her elbows and even trying to headbutt the man who hoisted her up into the back of the truck. She was tossed into the back and the other man jumped in behind her. The door swung closed, and the vehicle sped out of the driveway.
“Fuck,” Sunny swore sharply into the phone she held. “Looks like they’ve got Erin in a delivery truck. We’ve got 911 on the way. I’m heading after the truck. Better get eyes on Vivian. Call me when you get this.”
“I need to get back to my building,” Fox said as Sunny pocketed her phone. “I need access to the traffic cams and other shit.”
“Go,” Sunny ordered. “Find that truck.” She looked at me and frowned. “You stay here. Doors locked. Blinds closed. Lights off. You are a ghost here, understand?”
I nodded, my heart racing with anxiety. “I’ll be fine. Go. Help your friends.”
“Kostya or I will come back for you later,” Sunny said as she strode to the door. “We’ll move you to a different safe house as soon as we can.”
Without a look back, Sunny was gone. Fox gathered up her things, gave me a quick and encouraging hug and ran to the garage entrance by the kitchen. As she slipped on a pair of sneakers left there, she said, “I’ve got security all over this place. You’re safe here. Just don’t leave.”
Just like Sunny, she was gone without giving me time to reply. Talking to the closed door, I said, “But those were my shoes…”
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Chapter Twenty-Four
“WHAT A FUCKING shit show,” Ilya snarled as he hustled a wounded Ten into a waiting SUV.
“I don’t need your bullshit right now,” Kostya snapped back. Fully aware that he’d fucked up and underestimated the crew sent from Mexico, he had already taken responsibility for the disaster unfolding before him. At this point, his focus was on fixing the fuck-up and getting everyone home safely.
Glaring daggers, Ilya slammed the door shut once Ten was in the backseat. “I can’t believe Artyom agreed with this bullshit bait plan of yours. Now he’s fucking shot and in the hospital. Foma and Mitya are dead in Vanya’s house. Boss’s wife almost got killed.” He gestured to the warehouse art studio where Ten and Vivian had been ambushed. “We’ve got to get Ten fixed up before his PO catches him and tosses his ass back in prison. And now we’ve lost Ivan and Sergei’s wives plus Danny and Boy!”
“We haven’t lost them,” Kostya remarked roughly. He was checking his phone for the hundredth time when Fox sent a message that she had found the delivery truck that had taken Erin and was running through traffic cams to track it to its final destination. “We’ll have their location soon.”
“Yeah? And if they’ve been hurt? You want to be the one that tells Vanya that the only woman he’s ever loved got taken? Got raped? Got killed?” Ilya shook his head. “You sure as shit are not delegating that job to me.”
“They’ll be fine,” Kostya ground out, his voice calm while his stomach was a mess. Ilya was right about all of it. If anything happened to Erin, Ivan would go berserk. With Sergei at his side, the two men would rampage like wild beasts and the collateral damage would be impossible to contain.