Page 51 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

Viktor lifted his head. “Eleven.”

Eleven. He’d fired more people in a week than he’d ever fired before. Some of them had been with us for years. But he’d pulled access logs and cross-referenced them against the timeline of Anton’s moves. Every trail he followed went cold before it led us anywhere useful.

Viktor went quiet again.

Damn it.

I pushed back from the desk and walked to the window.

The cold, indifferent city spread out below me.

“Nothing we do has staunched the flow of information.” Misha cracked his knuckles, seemingly oblivious to the wounds spread across them.

The suspicion we’d all tried to tamp down reared up. Perhaps Peyton’s use of seduction was another well-timed scheme. It would be entirely too convenient. I kept an eye on Misha, gauging him for any shift or regret.

He was Misha, and I trusted his instincts. I had for years, and I would not stop. I could not stop. If I could not trust Misha, then I’d already lost him.

Everything inside me screamed to trust, just this once. Trust that Peyton was exactly who she claimed to be. I’d built my life on the principle that trust was a transaction.

I extended it carefully, in measured amounts, and only after the other party earned it through demonstrated loyalty.

Peyton had not had time to demonstrate anything except that she made Misha’s eyes come back to life and that she argued with Viktor without flinching.

She also submitted to him in the playroom without flinching, which meant more to him than he’d ever admit.

“We need to take another look at Peyton.” Viktor threw up a hand to stop Misha when he lunged. He grabbed the other man by the shoulder. “I am sorry, but we must.” He met my gaze. “You were thinking it. I’m merely saying it out loud. It seems impossible to find an alternative.”

“Misha is never wrong about people.” My words calmed Misha, and he returned to his seat. “But I’m not ready to throw away our relationship. If we act on our suspicion with no facts and she is innocent, we lose her.” A deep, throbbing ache swallowed my chest in immediate denial.

I resisted the urge to rub the painful feeling away.

Exposing her as an enemy meant we’d all lost our way, had all been pulled in by her. Losing her as the woman we cared for was unthinkable.

Viktor dipped his head. “I am not ready to dismiss it, but I will not tip our hand and allow us to lose our advantage. If she is guilty, we cannot let her know we suspect.”

Misha shoved away from the table and began to pace. “This is not right. She is innocent.” He slammed a closed fist onto the table. The impact put a dent in the hard wood and did nothing to him except annoy him.

“We all want that to be true.” I stood as well and rested my hands on the table, leaning toward him. “Which means we watch her.”

Viktor straightened. “We bring her inside. Tell her it’s protection, which is not a lie. Anton’s moved against our business, and she’s connected to us publicly enough that she could become a target. We move her into the house. One of us stays with her at all times.”

Misha picked up his pen and threw it at the wall, where it embedded next to the clock. “This is to keep her safe. I will not entertain any other idea.”

“I’ll talk to her.” I met and held Misha’s gaze. “Tonight before we go home.”

“Of course you will.” Viktor smiled and stood. “Come, Misha. We’ll send her in.” The two of them strode toward the door, leaving it open in their wake.

Minutes later, Peyton walked in, pulling a pen from behind her ear. Her hair was in one of those half-up/half-down things, the way it ended most days until we reached our house and removed any barrier between us and her glorious locks.

She wore the gray dress, the one that made Viktor forget what he was saying mid-sentence. The file tucked under her arm slipped a bit, and she pressed her elbow tight against her side, clamping it down.

“Close the door.” I motioned at the door behind her.

She closed it and turned, her eyebrows making a little V. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, and no. There is nothing wrong with you, or your work.” I knew to get that out of the way first, and her shoulders relaxed, a light smile teasing loose. “Sit down.” I pulled out a chair for her, then sat to her left.

“Leo?”