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“Fuck off, Kirill.” She said it lightly, her lips twitching but never giving me the smile I craved.
It was probably for the best. I had work to do and very little capacity for resisting her when she laughed.
Roman expanded a column of payments from the bloodstained ledger on the monitor furthest away from my work. “Mikhail’s school, residence, and medical care were paid through Sokolov-controlled companies. We know he’s involved but not the extent of it. For all we know, he could be Mikhail’s father.”
“A child surrounded by armed men and hidden behind forged records doesn’t suggest a loving relationship, and I don’t give a shit if he’s Mikhail’s father. He’s my nephew, and I will not let him suffer.” Anika pushed out of the chair. “We go after him.”
Maksim turned from the window. “We find him. Then we decide how to approach.”
Her chin came up at the distinction, but Maksim didn’t retreat. Because he was Maksim, he doubled down, crossing the room and stopping where she could choose whether to close the remaining distance. “If we move before we know where the boy sleeps, Sokolov can relocate him.” Maksim opened one hand between them. “Help us find the pattern Alina left.”
Anika stared at his palm, then placed her hand in it. “Show me everything.”
My phone vibrated against the desk, the call I’d been expecting almost putting a smile on my face. We would have more answers soon. I stepped into the hall before answering, not because I wanted to hide information from Anika but because the man calling responded best when death threats were involved, and I might need to remind him what had happened last time he refused me.
“You’ve been busy.” I leaned against the closed door while the man on the other end tried to explain why he hadn’t known a child lived in Sokolov’s residential tower. “I asked where the boy sleeps, and I will not accept excuses for your incompetence. Do you need another demonstration of what I am willing to do?”
His excuses stopped, the resulting silence providing more information than the denials.
“Mikhail hasn’t been at the tower for three weeks. They moved him after Alina took money from the casino. No one knows where.”
“Someone always knows.” I let the threat linger.
“Not me.”
I took my knife from its sheath and scraped the blade over the stone wall near the phone. The sound carried beautifully, and he rasped out a choking sound. “You remember what happened the last time you disappointed me? Think harder.”
“There were more guards before the boy moved. A woman visited him, and when she left, the boy went a bit crazy. That was when we heard rumors of a transfer to the water.”
He confirmed the date as right before the auction, and my grip on the knife turned painful. Sokolov had prepared his game board while we were still arguing over whether the woman in our home deserved a blanket.
I ended the call and returned to the office.
Anika glanced at the knife in my hand, her head shifting to the side. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.” I put the blade away. “Mikhail was removed from Sokolov’s primary residence three weeks ago. He was last seen headed toward the waterfront.”
Roman added the information to the board without questioning how I obtained it. Anika studied me for a long moment, absorbing another reminder that gentleness with her did not make me gentle. This world killed gentleness, something I hoped to protect her and Nora from. I would take the pain and anger for them and give it back sevenfold if only I could keep them safe.
By midafternoon, every flat surface in Roman’s office held a laptop, a printout, or a plate someone had abandoned. Mikhail appeared in seventeen photographs across five years, always with the same woman and never with Alina. His school route changed every month. His medical records used three different addresses. Each attempt to locate a current residence folded back into property Sokolov controlled.
At ten, we left for the casino. It had been a long fight, but Anika eventually won when she pushed the fact that everything Alina said to them had been a lie. She didn’t believe Alina’s secret code was anything more than another diversion, and not going meant letting Alina call all the shots.
Anika wore black trousers and a fitted coat over body armor thin enough to conceal beneath the fabric. One transmitter sat beneath her collar where any competent search would find it. Roman had sewn the second into the lining of her left boot himself.
I hated the plan. Maksim hated it. Roman hated it so thoroughly he’d spent hours perfecting every detail. Anika approved each stage and threatened to lock us in a closet if we tried to replace her with one of our men in a wig.
“It would need to be an excellent wig.” I checked the magazine in my pistol as our armored SUV entered the waterfront district. “Your hair has tremendous personality.”
Anika sat between Maksim and Roman, one knee bouncing. “You’re an ass, Kirill. My hair would be the least of your problems.”
“I have many. Most involve killing everyone inside the building and sorting out the misunderstandings later.” I grinned at her while holstering my pistol.
Roman finished securing the wire running beneath her lapel. “For once, we agree.”
The casino glittered at the end of the pier, all gold windows and reflected light dancing across the black water. Music and electronic chimes spilled onto the sidewalk each time the doors opened. Hundreds of civilians moved through the entrance, giving Sokolov exactly the protection he’d intended. He knew we would not endanger so many whose only fault was falling into the vise of gambling.
At ten fifty-eight, Anika crossed the street alone.
