The young man sucked in a breath. “This way, Ms. Miller.”
I would cooperate. I would do anything to get back to Ruby.
As we walked the hallway toward what I presumed were the back stairs, I wondered about what the man with the longer hair said.
A dead Sparrow.
And earlier, Mr. Sparrow.
I’d heard that name before. It was one of those times when Andros conducted business in my presence yet didn’t reveal enough for anything to make sense. My mind scrambled.
Sparrow.
Steven?
No, the first name was more unique than that.
Sturgis?
I played with the platinum bracelet on my wrist, the one Andros gave me in the back of Elliott’s car.
Platinum wasn’t golden in color, but white, like silver. Then I remembered.
Sterling.
Oh shit.
The man who’d left with Patrick was Sterling Sparrow. I had heard of him. He was most definitely to Chicago what Andros was to Detroit.
How was Patrick in this mix?
We came to a stop at the entrance to the offices where Veronica had taken me just yesterday morning. How could so much have happened in such a short time? After a knock, the door opened from within. As it did, I heard the tenor of Patrick’s voice reverberating through the hallways.
Patrick, please believe me.
I didn’t say it aloud, but I did think it with all my might.
“In here, ma’am,” my escort said as he opened the same door Veronica had opened for me on Friday morning, ushering me into Veronica Standish’s office.
Patrick
I couldn’t think about Madeline at this moment even though she was forefront in all of my thoughts. Allowing her to infiltrate my mind was allowing her to do what Ivanov had sent her to do. She was somehow part of his bratva.
Was there a child?
Had she given birth to my child?
I refused to dwell on the possibility. Even considering it took my focus away from the crisis at hand. I’d already let Sparrow down, I wouldn’t continue to do it. I had to think about the facts.
Veronica Standish was dead.
Ethan Beckman was dead.
Nearly fifteen million dollars had been stolen.
Hillman and Ivanov were making a show of working together.
Ivanov or Hillman had convinced at least one of our men to go against Sparrow.
Were there more?
The capo who had been guarding the safe since Sparrow went upstairs was currently being detained until the safe was opened. According to him, no one else entered the office. The way this night had been going, he better be right. If when we opened the safe, the additional nearly twelve million was gone, we’d be less another Sparrow.
My patience was worn thin—so much so, that it was fucking see-through.
Sparrow crouched down before the safe and entered the combination. Beckman had shared it with Sparrow earlier in the day. I doubted it had taken too much persuasion. At that point, Sparrow was supplying Club Regal with the funds it needed to complete the tournament.
“I changed it,” Sparrow said as the beeps filled the room.
“You changed the combination?”
“Fuck yeah. Someone stole the money with the old combination. Whoever did that had access. I wasn’t taking a chance.”
He was no longer useful.
Ivanov’s comment came back to me. “Beckman didn’t have access,” I said.
Sparrow’s dark eyes came to me. “We need to figure out how Beckman communicated to Ivanov that he couldn’t open the safe any longer.”
There were too many unknowns. Beckman’s communication and his murder didn’t happen in a vacuum. “The capo guarding Beckman, I think he’s the link.” I held my breath as Sparrow pulled the handle, releasing the safe’s door.
“It’s here,” he said.
I exhaled. “Thank fuck.”
Sparrow stood. As he did, Mason entered the office. His eyes opened wide.
“Money is here,” I said.
“We need to talk,” Sparrow said. “Mason, get Reid on the computer on the secure network. The four of us need to be in agreement.”
That was part of the reason we followed Sparrow. He welcomed our points of view. He believed that four sets of eyes and ears were better than one. Of course, the final decisions would always be his; nevertheless, he strived for agreement.
Mason nodded as he pulled out the laptop from earlier and after connecting, he hit a few buttons and Reid’s face appeared.
“It’s about fucking time. Tell me what’s happening,” Reid said.
Sparrow gave him the highlights: Andros Ivanov was here at the tournament. Hillman and his men appeared to be working with the Ivanov bratva. That also meant there was the possibility that other former McFadden men were working with Ivanov.
“Ivanov financed Madeline Miller,” Sparrow went on, his gaze briefly meeting mine. “Ivanov tasked her with winning the tournament. If she had won and it was discovered that the money was gone, Ivanov would have had justification in causing an uproar. From what we can assess, Ivanov had more than her in the game. He had Hillman, and I believe Elliott, in the mix. In reality, Ivanov had three of the final six players working for him.”
“Fifty percent chance to win,” Reid said, “but he didn’t count on Patrick.”
“Or he did,” Sparrow said, looking at me.
“I don’t know how he would have figured out I’d be the one to play, but yes,” I said to Reid, “it appears he had a plan to distract me.”
With Reid through the computer screen, I had three sets of eyes on me.
“And it worked,” I admitted.
“You won,” Reid said. “Right? That’s what Mason texted to me.”
“I won. I was also distracted.” I took a deep breath. “First, do you have tails on Hillman and Ivanov? Are you watching? Have they reached the airport?”
“They’re at two different private airports. Their planes are fueled and ready, but they haven’t filed their flight plans. They don’t appear to be in a hurry to leave.”
Sparrow stood taller. “They’re waiting for a signal.”
My eyes closed.
Mason looked up from the screen of his phone. “Garrett acquired clothes for Ms. Miller.” He looked at me. “It’s not enough to have her change on her own. Man, if there’s a tracker or a microphone in her bra or...concealed in...fuck, you know what I’m saying? She has to be searched.”
“What is going on?” Reid said.
“I’ll do it,” I volunteered. “I’ll question and search her. If anyone else—”
Sparrow nodded. “Answers first.”
I looked at the computer and concentrated on Reid. “The short version is this: you all know that before basic training I lived on the streets of Chicago, and I’d been there since I was young?”
I was only looking at Reid who nodded his response.
“When I was fifteen, I met a girl, also homeless.” A thousand images came to mind. The apple and the police chase. Other stories I didn’t have time to relate. “We became friends, more than friends. She was...” I inhaled. “When I was eighteen and she was seventeen we were befriended by people starting a mission. I wasn’t anxious to get involved, but the more they talked, the more I liked the possibility. They offered housing—a roof, three squares, and even a weekly stipend for incidentals. At the time, it was as if they’d offered us the fucking Ritz.”
I took another breath as my friends remained silent.
“The only catch,” I went on, “was that that girl and I couldn’t live there—living together—if we weren’t married. Neither of us were against marriage. We just hadn’t pushed it, but damn, it made sense, right? Get a piece of paper and get off the streets. The people at the mission helped us get IDs. Then, the day after Madeline turned eighteen, we went to the justice of the peace. And boom, I was married—we were.”
“S-shit...”
came from the computer.
I stood and paced to one wall and back. “Yeah, we were all happy and shit, and then one day I came back to the mission and she was gone. The pastor’s wife told me she sent Madeline out for kitchen supplies. I can’t remember her name—Kristen or something. Anyway, she claimed she gave Maddie—Madeline—a hundred dollars in cash. She made it sound as if Maddie had run off with the cash like she’d done when she was younger from a foster home. I didn’t want to believe her.
“It wasn’t that Maddie wouldn’t steal. I’d heard the story about the drunk foster parent too. It was that she wouldn’t have done it from the mission. She was too happy with what we’d done and held hope for our future. For some reason, I even remember that morning she disappeared that she was excited and maybe nervous.”
I sat back in one of the chairs and sighed. “Maybe she had it all planned. Anyway, I spent the next weeks canvassing the city and asking questions. There were rumors about teens disappearing.” I looked around the room. “Trafficking and the like. I couldn’t believe that. We’d both known the dangers. Finally, someone told me they heard she was dead, that her body had shown up at the morgue. I went there. It took all day but I arrived. I had the marriage license. They told me there was a backup of Jane Does, to come back in a month.
“I enlisted the next day. A little over a month later I reported for duty. You know the rest.”
“And you never heard from her?” Mason asked.
I shook my head. “No, I looked occasionally, but in my mind, she was dead. I never mentioned her because…why?”
“Because she showed up,” Sparrow said.
“She did. I knew it was her on Thursday night.”
“And you didn’t think—”
I stood again. “To mention it? Yes. I tried a couple times. Did I think she was involved with Andros Ivanov? No. Did I think she had my daughter sixteen years ago? Fuck no.”
“Wait, what?” Reid asked. “You have a daughter?”
“I don’t know.” I looked at the computer. “Her name is Ruby Miller. I would assume she lives in Detroit. Can you see what you can find?”
“Yeah, I can, but she’s a minor and that name isn’t unique. The search won’t be easy.”
It didn’t matter. I didn’t want my answers from Reid. I wanted them from Maddie.
“She offered to show me a picture,” Mason said, handing a phone my way. “I thought you should be the one to see it.”
I reached for the phone but my gaze went around the room.
Mason spoke first. “So far we’ve determined that the phone isn’t transmitting a signal. The GPS has been disabled, and I did a quick check for spyware. The one I found is not high-tech. We disabled it from making calls and accessing networks for any kind of communication, but that can be easily rectified. You can still access her gallery without the phone transmitting to Ivanov or anyone.”
“What about receiving calls?”
“They’ll go to her voicemail. We’re monitoring it.”
I looked up from the phone to my friends. “I’ve let you all down. I’m sorry.”
Mason continued, “Just because the phone isn’t transmitting doesn’t mean she isn’t. Make sure she isn’t wired. If Ivanov is waiting for a signal from her, he’s not going to get it.”
The idea that she was wearing a wire or a tracking device made my stomach turn. It was one thing to explain to these men that I’d married when I was eighteen. It was something else to admit that she’d returned as a member of a bratva, one who had just declared war on us.
“Where are the clothes?” I asked.
“Garrett has them in the hallway,” Mason said.
I turned back to Sparrow. “What’s going to happen if...” I had trouble vocalizing my thoughts.
“Your wife. Are you still married?” Reid asked from the computer.
“Legally, yes,” I replied. “I still have the license.” Not that the paper made it legal, but it was the documentation from the courthouse.
“And if there’s truly a daughter,” Reid went on, “a paternity test is no biggie. Hell, they sell them at the local drugstores. I can get you one more reliable than that.”
“She’s a member of the Ivanov bratva,” Sparrow said again.
“Boss,” Reid said, “I don’t know this woman. I know Patrick and so do you. I also remember a night when he was the voice of reason about family, about my wife and Mason’s sister.”
“This isn’t the same thing,” Sparrow’s voice rose.
“Family,” Reid repeated.
Sparrow stood taller. “Fucking make sure she’s clean and not relaying any information to Ivanov. Under no circumstances is she going to the tower. We’ll deal with logistics after you question and search her.”
I nodded. “I understand. I wish I was, but honestly, I’m not sure I can trust her.”
“Until you are, she’s not getting near our family,” Sparrow said.
“I also don’t think I can send her back to Ivanov. She said she...” I paused, recalling her declaration to beg forgiveness. “It doesn’t resonate right in my gut. But fuck, if Ruby is out there and she’s mine...”
“Then she’s part of our family,” Mason said.
I wasn’t sure why that meant even more to me than Reid’s words, but it did. A few moments ago, Mason had considered Madeline an enemy, a member of a rival organization. His change of heart, even about Ruby, was a big step, one I wasn’t certain her mother deserved, but one nonetheless.
“I’m going to find Garrett,” I said.
Sparrow nodded. “One last thing, just a minor piece of this fucking puzzle.”
We all waited.
“We’re at war and that needs to be our number-one priority.”
“Maybe Madeline can help?” I wasn’t sure what I was offering.
“Or she could bring us all down in flames,” Sparrow replied.
I stood taller. “I love her.” Damn, that was hard to say. “I still do. I didn’t want to. When I saw her Thursday night, I fucking wanted to hate her. My feelings aren’t about Ruby. I knew I loved Madeline...” I took a deep breath. “...when I first spoke to her again. I also don’t know her. A long time ago, I trusted her. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I also fucking love this girl, this teenager I’ve never met. I know that sounds ridiculous and soft, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t have answers, but I also don’t want rash decisions that can’t be undone. I need answers first.”
“I do too,” Sparrow said.
“You can take her to Montana,” Mason offered.
“I’m not hiding from this war.”
“It’s not hiding if you’re protecting an asset.”
“Can I still count on you?” Sparrow asked.
I didn’t hesitate. “With my life.” I started to walk toward the door and stopped. “Sparrow, it’s not that you’re not my priority. It’s that, whether this is Ivanov’s doing or not, I now have multiple priorities. I don’t want to let any of you down.”
His jaw clenched as his dark stare was my only answer.
With a deep breath I turned toward the door.
Reid’s declaration was the last thing I heard as I turned the doorknob. “We’ve got your back.”
Madeline
There was no way to measure time. The man standing guard outside Veronica’s office disconnected the computer and telephone within, taking the cords with him before leaving me alone. My phone was confiscated earlier and I wasn’t wearing a watch. The office where they were holding me was without windows, not that darkness in the middle of the night would be revealing. Nevertheless, I couldn’t be sure if I’d been in here twenty minutes or two hours.
With the way my anxiety over Ruby was building, each minute was like an hour. And each hour uncertain of her fate was a lifetime. I peered around at the office, the one that only a day ago had seemed nice. The walls were closing in and there was nothing I could do.
Trapped like a caged animal, I d
id what the captured lioness would do. I paced.
My heels clicked upon the tile floor as I walked the length of the office and then the width. The large tile squares gave me an estimation of the size of my confinement. If I searched Ms. Standish’s desk, I might be able to find a ruler or another actual unit of measurement and make an assessment. The truth was that I didn’t care.
Ten by twelve.
Twelve by twenty.
It was irrelevant.
A cell was a cell.
My mind filled with my daughter. The puffiness of my eyes was the remaining evidence of the tears I’d shed. That was past tense. As I continued pacing, my eyes were no longer moist.
The men with Patrick obviously had their preconceived ideas about me.
They were correct in assuming that I was a part of the Ivanov bratva. I had been for nearly seventeen years. That didn’t mean I held any loyalty to them or their ways. It meant that as much as I was a captive in this office, I had been captive within the Ivanov world. Andros didn’t need locked doors or guards; his bindings were more restrictive while conveniently less visible.
He had Ruby.
Letting out a breath, I sat at the small table, the place I’d sat talking to Veronica only a few days ago. With my elbows on the surface, I held my head and closed my eyes. My chest ached with the visions I created in my mind.
My daughter’s face appeared.
In the last few years she’d matured, losing her cherubic childish appearance to that of a young woman. Slim yet fit, much to my chagrin, she had developed, her body morphing budding ladylike curves. Her breasts were no longer contained in the likes of a training bra as her hips widened. Even her facial features had changed. The round cheeks of the little girl she once had been were slimming as her face elongated.
At sixteen she was too beautiful. I worried that others would see her, not as the child they knew, but as the woman she was becoming. Her long dark hair was similar to mine. When left unattended, it cascaded in waves and soft curls over her shoulders. When her hair was styled, it lay smooth and shiny or fell in long ringlets.
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