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I haven’t seen him since he gave me the information on Igor.
“Billie,” I say sternly. “You better have a good reason for calling at this time.”
“Yes, sir.” I frown slightly when I hear him whisper. “I do. You said to tell you if I heard anything about Marco Ricci. Well, I think I know where he is.”
I sit up straighter, but my voice doesn’t reflect the urgency. “How helpful do you think you can be, Billie? Because if your inteldoesn’t pan out, I’ll have to cut you off. And you know what happens when I cut you off, Billie Russell?”
He doesn’t respond. Fear or caution, it’s impossible to tell over the phone. But whichever it is, it’s keeping him alive.
“Tell me what you have, Russell.”
He clears his throat. “Well, I heard from a source?—”
“The same one who told you about the money?”
“No.”
I shrug, and Isabella stirs again, muttering something incoherent. Her head slips off my shoulder, and I place my hand underneath it, holding it there. “Go on,” I say.
“I got in touch with one of the men who used to work for your father. They had a falling out, and he cut him off, but it turns out that Marco recruited him.”
Another bastard.“Okay?”
“He said that Marco Ricci contacted him a week ago, asking if he could use one of his safe houses. It’s not a safe house per se,” he explains. “It’s a laundromat with a secret extension. There are tons of them in the city—no longer in operation—but Marco wouldn’t tell him which. Just that he needed one, and he would contact my source when he was ready.”
Ready for what?
“And what does your intel want in exchange for telling you the exact location?” I ask after a beat.
Another silence. I wait it out, tapping my fingers on my thigh. I’m not surprised that Marco Ricci is planning something, but it feels like I’m running out of time.
So, as much as I don’t want to admit it to Billie, I’m also running out of patience. “What does he want, Russell?” I ask again, my voice tinged with irritation.
“He wants to work for you, Mr. Volkov. He’s hoping you can reinstate him into the position he had before your father cut him off. I told him I’d ask you,” he stutters, “but I also said he shouldn’t get his hopes up.”
“I see,” I murmur.
I have no desire to bring people I can’t trust any closer than my father did. But I also don’t have a problem getting what I want from them through any means possible.
“Tell him to keep you informed. When Marco calls, I want to be the first person to know. If he proves to be useful, then we’ll talk.”
“Yes, sir.”
I drop my phone as the call ends, my fingers curling and digging into my palm.Marco Ricci.He’s taken a lot from me—not just my father, but Isabella’s trust—and forced me to deal with people I would’ve cut off without a second glance.
It has to end. Sooner or later.
As the car pulls up outside the house, I gently shake Isabella’s shoulder. “We’re home,” I murmur.
She blinks slowly, taking seconds to adjust to her surroundings. “When did we get here?”
“Come.” I hold out my hand. “You should get some more sleep.”
We run into Leo and Polina in the living room—I hand Isabella off to Polina while Leo and I head outside. “Does she know?” he asks before I can say anything.
“Know what?” I ask as my brows dip in slight confusion.
“That you’re in love with her.”