by Mary Stone
The venomous glare was expected. Aiden hadn’t just hit a nerve, he was tap dancing on several.
“You probably don’t. You probably want to live in that world of denial you seem so keen on clinging to. You know what denial is for, right? It’s for someone who’s too weak to face reality. You’re scared, so you just keep hiding under that rock while you pretend everything’s all right.”
“I am not—”
“No, of course not. You’re not weak, right?”
“No.” Sergei uttered the word through clenched teeth. “I am not.”
In the long moment of silence that followed, Aiden didn’t let his eyes drift away from Sergei. “You’re not weak, but you’ll let your so-called brothers step on you and your family to keep themselves afloat. Does that sound like something a strong man would do?”
He could almost hear Sergei’s teeth grind together in the ensuing stillness that enveloped them. “What do you want?”
“I want to know who else was there when Agent Hansford was killed.”
Taking in an unsteady breath, Sergei focused his eyes on his hands. “And what do I get?”
Aiden propped his own hands on the table, just inches from the other man’s, and leaned forward. “That depends on what you give me. I can go get you a pack of Starburst from the vending machine, or I can make sure your family’s safe and you get out of prison before your kids kill themselves in a brothel.”
With a spark of desperation evident in his tense demeanor, Sergei scooted forward in his chair. “I want something in writing.”
Shaking his head, Aiden rose to his full height. “Not until I know what you’re giving me. Once you give me something and it checks out, then I’ll get you your contract.”
The gesture was grudging, but Sergei nodded. “Fine. I do not know of his name. That night was the first time I saw him, but I know he is a pig. He called himself ‘Detective Smith,’ but I am not stupid enough to think that this was his real name.”
Aiden swallowed his distaste at the idea that they were dealing with a corrupt Baltimore detective. “What did he look like?”
“It was hard to get good look at him. It was dark. Maybe over six feet, dark hair, well-dressed. White or Hispanic, I was not able to tell. Like I said, I never saw him before.”
“Who else?” Aiden crossed his arms and fixed the man with an intent stare.
“No one.” For emphasis, Sergei shook his head.
“No one?” Aiden echoed. “You know, if you lie to me, this whole thing is off the table.”
Grating his teeth, Sergei nodded. “No one. That is what I say.”
With another mirthless laugh, Aiden rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. “No one? Jesus, Sergei. How fucking stupid do you think I am? I know there was someone else there. Your boss wouldn’t have sent someone as lowly as you all by yourself to meet with someone as high value as a dirty cop. One more chance. Who else was there?”
Seconds dragged on as Sergei sat, his jaw clenched, posture as stiff as a statue.
Shrugging, Aiden turned to make his way to the door. “Suit yourself, Sergei. We’ll find them the old-fashioned way.” He stopped when his hand was on the knob. “I hope for your sake that it isn’t a pencil in the eye. I’ve heard that’s exceedingly painful.”
As soon as the door opened a crack, Sergei broke his stone-like silence.
“Aleksander Mirnov.”
Pulling open the door, Aiden glanced over his shoulder. “Someone will be in to get your statement within the next hour.”
So much for collaboration with the Baltimore PD.
Instead, the detectives in Baltimore were suspects. Aiden grated his teeth as the door latched closed behind him.
Down the rabbit hole they went.
27
Ever since Noah had pointed out the suspicious Mazda the night before, he hadn’t caught sight of the stalker. Though part of him was relieved, the other part preferred to know where the driver was. At least then he could prepare for an attack.
Stifling a yawn with one hand, he reached for his pumpkin spice latte with the other. He’d eventually managed to fall asleep, but he estimated he’d gotten a grand total of four hours of shut-eye at best. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should just spend his entire workday in the coffee shop where he and Bree had met up before they went into the office.
“Sounds like you had a long night.”
Noah glanced to where Bree sat across the table and nodded. “Thought about asking for three shots of espresso instead of just the one.”
She tapped her finger on her extra-large cup. “I know the feeling.”
Before he could force his tired brain to form an intelligent question about their plans for the Eric Dalton investigation that day, his phone buzzed against the laminate tabletop. When he glanced down and spotted Winter’s contact photo on the screen, his pulse rushed in his ears. He’d sent her a message not long after he and Bree arrived at the coffee shop to bemoan his lack of sleep, but he hadn’t expected her to call him.
Glancing to the short line of customers at the counter and then back to Bree, he picked up the phone. “It’s Winter. Might be about the case.”
As he pushed to his feet, Bree nodded her understanding. “Okay. I’ll be here.”
He offered her a quick smile before he started off for the front door. Swiping the answer key, he raised the phone to his ear. “Hey,” he greeted. Thanks to the sudden rush of adrenaline, he no longer sounded like he’d just woken up.
“Good morning.” Her voice was light, maybe even upbeat. Apparently, someone had gotten more sleep than he had.
He swallowed down the twinge of nervousness. “How’s Baltimore?”
She blew out a short sigh. “That’s part of why I decided just to call you.”
Noah stepped out into the cool morning air and made his way to the edge of the building, away from any curious ears. “Did you guys find something?”
“Yeah, we did. A couple things, good and bad. Yesterday, the Baltimore PD brought in a Russian foot soldier named Sergei Kolesov. Kolesov had the same metal particles on his clothes that were found in Natalie’s car and house, and as best as we can tell, they’re the same particles that were found on Agent Hansford’s body.”
Jamming a hand in his pocket, Noah suppressed a weary sigh. “That’s the good news, then, right? What’s the bad?”
“Aiden questioned Sergei last night, and we got some more information about who else was there when Agent Hansford was killed. The audio techs are getting close to finished with cleaning up the recording, but even when it was fuzzy, it was enough to tell that there were three people there. Sergei was one of them, and then there’s another Russian named Aleksander Mirnov that the Baltimore PD is searching for right now.”
The discovery still didn’t sound like bad news. “Who was the third person?”
“That’s the bad news.” She paused, and he could almost picture her rubbing her temples. “We don’t know who he is, but we know he’s a detective in the Baltimore PD. Sergei claims it was dark, and he wasn’t able to give much in the way of a description.”
“A detective?” Noah let out a string of four-letter words that would have had his mama washing his mouth out with soap. He was well aware that corrupt law enforcement officials existed, but so far during his tenure with the bureau, he hadn’t personally come across any.
“Yeah. Aiden tried showing Sergei some pictures, but he wasn’t sure if the guy was in one of them. Baltimore is a big city, and it’ll take an age to go through all the detectives to find one that jogs Sergei’s memory, but—”
“Eyewitness identification isn’t all that reliable, especially if the person saw the suspect in the dark,” Noah finished for her.
“Exactly.”
Rubbing his tired eyes with one hand, Noah leaned back against the concrete wall. “Well, I guess I’ve got some news too. I told Bree already, but someone was following me when I went to The Lift to hang out with Autumn
last night.”
“What?”
The tinge of defensiveness in her voice brought a slight smile to his lips. “Haven’t seen them since I got home last night, but I think that gives Bree’s theory a little validity.”
“Oh my god.” She heaved another sigh. “Okay, I’ll tell everyone here about that too.”
“We’re just grabbing some coffee before we go to the office to do that exact same thing.” He chuckled.
After a short pause, she cleared her throat. “Really quick, before I let you go.”
A chill rushed through his veins. Here it came, he thought. The regret. The awkward apology.
He swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat. “What’s up?”
“I’m really glad I stayed with you the other night. We should do it again sometime.”
Relief and complete damn happiness had him smiling. “Yeah, I’m glad you stayed too. And yeah, we should absolutely do it again. Any time. Any place.”
When she laughed, his smile grew face-breaking wide. That sound always seemed to put him at ease, and he suspected it always would.
“That’s good to hear. Watch your back, okay?”
“Always, darlin’. I’ll talk to you soon.”
As much as he wanted to revel in the feeling of relief that had washed over him, he reminded himself that he couldn’t let himself lose focus. Scanning the street for the Mazda, he knew there was a real possibility that he was being stalked by a Russian gangster.
For the first time, he was glad his family was in Texas.
The night before, I’d been almost elated when Agent Tim Gibbs had agreed to meet up with me to discuss the state of the FBI’s investigation.
I shouldn’t have been.
Late morning sunlight caught the polished face of my watch as I raked a hand through my hair. Gibbs hadn’t given me a damn thing, and now I had to relay that failure to Alek Mirnov—one of the most battled-hardened Russian enforcers in the entire city of Baltimore.
As the taller man approached, I caught sight of the familiar Russian lettering on the back of his left hand.
From my early days, nothing but misery.
Alek leaned against the car at my side as he shifted his piercing stare to me. “I hope you have good news, Detective Smith. Eric Dalton has twelve hours left, and so far, he’s given us nothing. You know what that means, right?”
Gritting my teeth, I nodded. “I know. It means that you’ll go to Noah Dalton directly. Hold his father as collateral, get the location from him, and then kill Eric.”
Shrugging as if the answer didn’t matter, Alek produced a cigarette from the inside of his jacket, hunched over, and lit it. “Close, but not quite. We will kill Eric, but he’s not collateral. He and his son aren’t close. There is someone else, though.”
“His mother and sister are in Texas. Are you prepared to go that far?”
Alek shook his head. “No need. Most of his friends are Feds, but one isn’t. A pretty redhead, in fact. His friend or girlfriend, hard to tell.” The corner of his mouth twitched in a devilish smirk. “You know, I almost hope Eric fails. I could use a few days with a pretty girl like that.”
My blood had turned to ice. So much for letting me handle Noah Dalton.
Right then, I considered giving the man a false lead, but didn’t dare.
Coughing into one hand to clear my throat, I met his gaze. “You’d better be careful if you’re going after a federal agent. It’s one thing to go to him through his father, but if you’re going to him directly, you’d better make damn sure there isn’t a trace to tie you back to any of it. Like there was with Natalie.”
Alek furrowed his brows. “What do you mean? There was no trace. We cleaned the house.”
I shook my head. “Not well enough. The Feds have something. I’m trying to figure out what it is, but they have something solid. You’d better take a step back from this and find another way to break open the RICO case.”
He waved a hand as he took a long drag. “Someone else is handling it, don’t worry. I’m leaving town for a few days. I’ll come back when Eric gives us the rat or when my people have to deal with his son.”
If I were in a room with Eric Dalton right now, I’d throttle the man. Clearly, the pilot was in over his head.
He had no idea the type of shit storm into which he’d just thrown his family and everyone he knew.
Estranged or not, the Russians didn’t care.
They’d burn the entire city to the ground to find their rat.
28
Eric’s hand shook as he flipped open the prepaid phone. He didn’t want to answer the call. Right now, he wanted to crawl under a rock and pretend that the Russians and the FBI didn’t exist.
But right now, what he wanted didn’t really matter.
Slowly, reluctantly, he raised the device to his ear. “Hello?”
“Eric.” The caller was none other than Alek himself. Anymore, Eric always had to deal with Alek. “Do you know how much time you have left?”
Eric swallowed as he leaned against the cool drywall. He always took these calls in the bathroom so he could disguise the sound of his voice with the vent fan, and he was starting to loathe the room.
Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, Eric took in a shuddery breath before he dared to respond. “Ten hours.”
“That is right. Ten hours. Ten hours, and then your daughter dies just like her husband. One shot to the stomach.” Alek’s voice was as jagged and unwelcoming as concrete.
Ten hours, a million hours, by this point, Eric was convinced there was no way he could possibly meet Alek’s demands. Noah hadn’t even been to the damn safe house since his first brief visit. The only two federal agents he saw were Agents Stafford and Vasquez.
“I need more time.”
“We gave you a week.” Alek’s response was like bullets piercing his skin. “That is one-hundred sixty-eight hours. So far, you have wasted a hundred and fifty-eight of those, yes? Now, what? You want me to give you more hours to waste?”
“Not waste, no. Noah, my son, he’s been gone. He’s been in Baltimore. He was gone for at least a day, and I can’t leave this house. That’s an entire twenty-four hours I lost that I could’ve used to get your information.” To his surprise, his voice didn’t waver.
“That is your problem, Eric. Not mine.” Alek clucked his tongue. “Hold on. Hold on.”
There was a light clatter on the other end of the line, and then the faint sound of Alek’s voice. But Alek’s voice wasn’t what froze Eric in place. It was a woman’s voice.
Her words were distant and tinny, but he would recognize that voice at any volume.
“Nata…?” His voice broke, and he had to try again. “Natalie, sweetheart, is that you?”
When the bloodcurdling scream pierced through the speaker of the archaic phone, Eric almost lost his grip on the device. The cool touch of adrenaline in his veins had turned into a frozen stranglehold, and he needed all his willpower just to keep himself breathing.
As another scream rang out after the first, he felt himself slump down to the linoleum floor. His stomach turned, and he had to swallow the sting of bile in the back of his throat lest he vomit.
He wanted to scream and berate the Russian, to throw every conceivable insult at him in hopes that one might strike some feeling Eric doubted the man even had. Alek was a sociopath. He had to be.
But as much as Eric wanted to scream obscenities into the phone, he was hunched in the bathroom for a reason. Any suspicious shouts would undoubtedly draw the attention of Agent Vasquez, and then any chance for Eric to sway Noah and save his daughter would be gone.
So instead, Eric bit down on his tongue until he tasted iron.
The clatter at the other end of the line sounded minute compared to the shriek from only moments ago. “Did you hear that?” Alek asked.
Eric dropped his face into his hand. Of course he’d fucking heard it. In fact, he was still hearing it now, the scream
s echoing over and over in his head.
“Two fingers, both from her left hand. For now, at least. I do not think she will need her wedding ring anymore, do you?” There was a hint of mirth in Alek’s voice that only made the pit in Eric’s stomach more noticeable.
Still, try as he might, he couldn’t formulate a response to the psychopath’s callous observation.
“Ten hours, Eric. Do not disappoint me.”
The line went dead.
For several long, agonizing moments, Eric held his position—slumped down on the bathroom floor, knees bent, face in his hands.
He had to get the Russians their witness. One way or the other, he had to save his daughter.
If he had access to Noah’s credentials for the bureau’s databases, then maybe he could look up the RICO case. No, that wouldn’t work. Eric knew enough about technology to be sure that he’d have to sign into the FBI server from a secure VPN unless he was in the building.
What about Agent Vasquez? Vasquez seemed amiable enough, but no, that wouldn’t work either. Amiable or not, he and Miguel were just short of perfect strangers.
Getting in touch with Noah was the only option. Eric had wanted to sway Noah to see the situation from his perspective, but it seemed increasingly obvious that the effort was a lost cause. Eric’s hope had been to keep himself from serving time in prison by convincing Noah to keep the entire agreement between the two of them.
Now, the idea seemed asinine. For all the good it had done him so far, Eric might as well buy a rifle and storm the Russian compound—or whatever in the hell it was—by himself.
As the analog clock above the towel rack ticked away the seconds, Eric realized for the first time how truly hopeless the situation had become.
Alek had been adamant that Eric not involve the FBI any more than was necessary to get to Noah. If he and the Russians caught wind of him enlisting the bureau’s help to find his daughter, they would execute her. Not only would they kill her, but they’d seek out and systematically murder Eric’s entire family.