Page 65
I love when a plan comes together.
27
ILYA
A COUPLE DAYS LATER
“Umm, Pakhan, I, uh, I think you should see this,” Leonid announces, wringing his hands when I turn to look at him. He avoids my gaze, staring at the floor. Probably for the best, considering how pissed I am that he’s taken this long to fix my computer.
“If you’ve fucked up one more thing, Leonid, I’m going to kill you myself,” I snarl, stalking over. It’s not his fault, but that doesn’t save him, or anyone, from my mood. That fucking virus fucked up so much shit, it’s taken Leonid and his entire team to fix it and to ensure it didn’t get into the servers.
The fucking Chameleon wasn’t taking any chances, and it’s infuriated me.
He flinches with each clack of my shoes on the marble floor. Pathetic. I make a mental note to get Oleg and Zakhar to have someone whip their asses into shape. No one, not even the computer guys, should be slacking off on their soldiering skills. Their computers won’t save them if Timur’s men get past everyone to them.
Though nothing will save them from my wrath if they’ve fucked anything up.
“No, Pakhan, it’s, uh, nothing, um, like that. It … it looks like a message for you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Excuse me?”
Another flinch. “Yeah, uh, it just popped up when I got it all plugged in, and uh … yeah, I don’t think it’s for me to see.” His face flushes scarlet, and my eyes narrow. What kind of message could he possibly be having this kind of reaction to?
“Jesus Christ,” Zakhar chokes when he moves behind Leonid to look first. His eyes widen and then he snickers. “Damn, you do get all the good shit, brother.” Then he looks at Leonid. “Kid, if that shit makes you blush that much, you need to get away from the screen more often. You a fucking virgin or something?”
“No!” Leonid rushes out, but the heat in his cheeks doesn’t fade. “I’m just… selective.”
I side-eye Zakhar, who is clearly thinking the same as I am. Selective is just another word for virgin. The kid needs to build some confidence. I leave that to Zakhar, though, who will probably take this as his own personal challenge and bring in as many whores as he can find to tempt the kid. Or try to figure out if the kid’s gay and too scared to say anything. Whatever, not my problem.
I turn my attention back to the screen and nearly choke when I see the message and the accompanying video.
Not as good as the real thing, but it certainly does the job.
The video shows the dildo my stalker created of my cock on a bed, wet and clearly used. Son of a bitch. I clench my jaw and will myself not to get hard. Damn her. I’ve been so careful to keep her out of my head the last couple of days, refusing to think of her. And here she is, pulling me right back in.
The video pans slowly before it lands on a vanity mirror in the corner of the room. I zero in on her reflection, and she blows me a kiss before it goes black. But something catches my eye, and recognition hits me like a brick.
No. That’s not possible.
How the fuck did she…
“Go back,” I order Leonid. His eyes widen, but I ignore it. “I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re embarrassed. Go through that video frame by fucking frame until I find what I’m looking for.”
He nods, gingerly sitting in my chair, then rewinds the video to the first frame and goes through it in slow motion.
“There.” He hits pause. “Zoom in on the vanity mirror.” Once that’s done, Zakhar curses.
“She stole our fucking plane?” he screeches.
“Who?” Leonid asks, eyes wide.
We ignore him. My brother’s anger mirrors mine, along with shock.
“How the hell did she manage that? No, this can’t be right. She’s a fucking nut, and now she’s got a pilot’s license?”
“Or she has someone who can do it for her.” The idea of who that could be doesn’t bode well.
“You think she’s working with Belov?” Zakhar asks.
