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“Orlov is an actual threat to Emmy?” Drago asked in disbelief.
“What’s going on with Emmy?” Katya asked as she sat down next to Drago, her red-gold hair swinging behind her. Drago slid his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple while I inwardly cringed.
Though I thought she could do better than a Russian gangster—even though I was a Russian gangster—I was happy for my sister. I certainly couldn’t argue with how Drago treated her. His affectionate and protective gray eyes followed her practically everywhere she went.
I shot a look at Drago, and he nodded. “Callahan told us that Orlov is fixated on Emmy. He talked about her all the time, how they were destined to be together—real psycho shit. I just talked to Emmy about it, and it looks like he might be making some kind of move on her,” I said grimly, my fist tightening around the beer bottle at the thought of that fucker Orlov stalking Emmy.
Katya gasped, her pretty features twisted in horror. “Oh my god, that’s the girl he was talking about?”
Drago and I looked at each other, then at Katya. “What are you talking about? When did you talk to Orlov?” I asked.
“That day he got the jump on Anya and lured me back to the old apartment. When he was waiting for Yuri to show up, he kept talking about ‘his girl’ and how she understood him, and she was so hot, and they were going to be together. He was mad because Yuri’s plan was postponing their relationship. I remember feeling so sorry for whoever the girl was because, seriously, what girl would voluntarily date Orlov?” she asked rhetorically, then grimaced. “I can’t believe he was talking about Emmy.”
“Wait, he said ‘my girl’? You’re sure?” I demanded.
“Yes, definitely. It was ‘my girl’ this and ‘my girl’ that.”
I slammed my fist on the table. “Dammit, then it was definitely him.”
They looked at me in confusion. I filled them in on how Orlov interacted with Emmy in the car when she’d been kidnapped and then about the gifts and the pendant she’d just received where the sender had referred to her as “My Girl.”
“Has she seen him around?” Drago asked intently. He wanted to kill Orlov as badly as the rest of us.
I shook my head. “She doesn’t really know what Orlov looks like. He was in the front seat, and she could only see him through the rearview mirror. He was also wearing sunglasses. She says she hasn’t seen anyone suspicious, but she didn’t even mention the fucking necklace to anyone and that’s suspicious as hell. She’s terrible about that shit.”
Drago and Katya stared at me. “How would you know that?” Katya asked with avid interest.
I shrugged uncomfortably, definitely not interested in sharing my and Emmy’s pen pal history with Katya. “She’s a young girl, Katya. What girl in Emmy’s position would have a sixth sense for suspicious, psychotic assholes?”
“She’s not that young,” murmured Katya.
“A lot younger than me.”
Katya rolled her eyes. “You’re twenty-six, not eight-five.”
I shot her a look, but Drago spoke before I could reply. “Katya, will you go ask Anya what she remembers from that day? I know she was alone with Orlov before you got there.”
“Sure thing.” Katya hopped up, gave Drago a quick kiss and walked over to where Anya and Callahan were talking to Maxim and Will, two Bratva soldiers who worked for Drago.
Uneasiness and worry started to ride me as more and more evidence of Orlov’s obsession started to pile up. I finished off my beer and practically hurled it in the trash can. “Who are you going to put on her?” I snapped out, urgent to get Emmy’s protection sorted out.
Drago raised an eyebrow. “I thought you already volunteered for the job?”
I winced remembering my impulsive decision to protect her when Callahan mentioned what was going on with Orlov. Now, as the claws of her attachment pulled at me, I was more resistant to that idea. “No, I didn’t mean that. I can’t. We have to find someone else.”
Drago rubbed his chin. “Hm, okay, you said no to Will, right?”
I frowned. “Not him. No offense, but not noticing what Boris was up to is a problem for me. Not to mention he fucks anything that moves.”
Drago shrugged. “If he gets the job done, so what?”
My fist clenched. “Next.”
Drago smirked but went back to naming men. “Pavel.”
“Too new.”
“Okay, Daniel.”