Page 25 of Claim Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #2)

K azimir

Murder.

“You’re sure?” I asked as I stared at my laptop screen.

The crack of thunder behind me was beginning to get annoying.

The goddamn storm hadn’t let up for hours.

I flicked through the files on the flash drive.

How the fuck Charlie had gotten hold of a list of illegal weapons Popov was expecting from Russia was beyond me.

There were no blueprints of how the information had been captured, but upon quick calculation, I estimated the worth at somewhere close to two million dollars.

Not chump change by anyone’s standards.

The date and time of the arrival was also listed. I checked my watch. Two weeks. Interesting. In addition, I’d found out why Charlie was so pissed, doing what he could to keep her safe.

He’d copied several emails between his father, Jameson and Vladimir Popov. It would appear Jameson had gone to Popov for the loan for the renovations after various banks had turned him down. Up to that point, the resort and casino had showed weak profits.

But I had a bad feeling that refused to leave that Jameson had been in debt to the Russian Bratva Pakhan for another reason.

What that was I’d yet to discover. Perhaps it was of no consequence given Jameson and his wife were dead.

Now I affirmed what Charlie had believed all along. They had been murdered.

Mikhail snorted. “I’m no mechanic, but in looking at the original police report, I can see no reason the car ran off the road. The official report states another driver was to blame, perhaps an almost hit and run forced the vehicle the Valentines were driving off the road.”

“But you think otherwise.” The other emails during the course of two months became more threatening.

First, Popov wanted a stake in the resort.

He’d provided the money, ten million. The interest was hefty and since Marengo had yet to show additional profit even while remaining open during the renovation, he hadn’t been able to scrape up enough money to keep Popov satisfied.

“I do. I have good reason to.”

“And what’s that?” My curiosity was piqued. After Jameson refused, there was a break in email activity. I had a feeling Popov had resorted to either phone calls or personal meetings to handle business. But there was an email that kept me on edge, the anger breaching the surface.

Popov had made threats that collateral would be taken.

The anger deep within me was exploding. Why would he consider something like that? Was he so desperate?

“What is the name of the detective assigned to Charles’ murder?”

“Ryan Torres.”

His laugh brought another moment of anger.

“Let me guess. Torres investigated the Valentines’ accident.

” Having a private meeting with the detective was the next thing on my agenda.

With news of Charles’ death, Popov would be chomping at the bit to get his hands on the resort.

Given the information I’d read, if I had to guess, I’d say the Russian prick would use the resort as a cover not only for money laundering, but for bringing in potential clients.

From the pictures of the resort, not only was it perfectly nestled in one hundred acres of prime real estate, but the area was also protected, a location that could be kept highly secured for very exclusive meetings.

And perhaps it was the perfect location to store a shipment of weapons coming in from the port.

“Bingo, brother. At Charles’ insistence. He pushed hard enough that even after the case had indicated a tragic accident, Charles had insisted he had evidence to prove otherwise. From what I can tell, he knew the chief of police, who then assigned Torres to investigate.”

“And of course the good detective came to the same conclusion as before.” I hissed under my breath.

“You bet. Charles even tried to get the press involved, alluding to some pretty interesting accusations involving the police department and the Popov Empire.”

Charlie had never learned his limitations and couldn’t care less about danger. I’d warned him more than once he could get himself killed. But he was balls to the walls with everything he did.

While I admired his convictions, he obviously hadn’t understood how dangerous Popov could be until much later. The final email was a threat that Charlie had received only the day before his death.

The words were chilling.

Pust’ tvoya dusha nikogda ne naydet pokoya v adu.

May your soul never find rest in hell.

In Russian. Whether or not Charlie had made the translation was of no consequence. At that moment, I was thankful my parents had insisted their children learn Russian. I’d taken up residence in her small office, hoping she’d remain asleep for another hour or so.

“You need to know something else,” I admitted. “The majority share of the casino was left to me.” There was my expansion report for the board. Christ. The realization that just dealing with the casino would be taxing was something else to contend with.

“You’re kidding?”

“No, I am not and Popov wants his share, money lent for the renovations.”

“How much?”

“Ten million and change. No way Mr. Valentine could pay given the exorbitant interest.”

“Whoa,” Mikhail exhaled. “No wonder Popov ordered several assassinations. Why the hell did he go to a fucking Russian.”

“No other choice. I’m going to check out what had been accomplished,” I told him. The entire situation was messy as fuck.

“Fuck, Kazimir. We don’t need an expansion in another goddamn city. What about Marissa? Will she consider buying you out?”

I laughed. “She’s a concert pianist, brother. She has no desire to run a resort and casino. Do you honestly think she could get a decent loan? Not a chance.”

“Then sell it outright.”

The stench of stale coffee assaulted my nostrils, all but vaporizing Marissa’s sweet fragrance. I shoved the cup aside. “That’s not what Charlie wanted.”

“Then what do you want to do, split your time between Vegas and Seattle?”

“I don’t know yet. What I won’t allow to happen is for Popov to get his hooks into the resort. Or into Marissa.”

Mikhail issued his low growl as he did when he was irritated. “You can’t fight Popov on your own.”

“No, but I can remind him that he was responsible for several deaths. I’m certain he wouldn’t like that to be shoved into the open.

From what I’ve read about his organization, he’s already in trouble with the DEA, the CIA, and hell, the FBI.

He doesn’t need a murder rap with a huge shipment coming in.

” Thoughts on what I’d do with the shipment were also spooling in my mind.

We’d been out of the illegal arms business for at least fifteen years.

Keeping and selling them wasn’t an option.

However, there were others.

“Shipment?”

“Two million in weapons coming from good ole Mother Russia.” Popov’s plan was decent. Force Jameson into a business deal where the Russian would remain a silent partner, which would keep the Feds off his back. A perfect scenario, only Jameson hadn’t taken to being threatened kindly.

Which had gotten him killed.

If I had to guess, I’d say Charlie hadn’t realized just how deep Popov’s claws had been prior to his parents’ death. I’d study the files on the flash drive in more detail later when there was time. The overview was enough to secure my next move.

And to allow me to know just how dangerous the situation was.

I shifted screens, glancing at the recent purchase.

Maybe I was fooling myself that an old dog could learn new tricks, but at this point, I needed something other than work to stimulate my mind.

I already had stimulus for my body. As I flipped through a couple of pages, I sat back in my chair, studying the art depicted on the screen.

I’d done so several times, although it would seem my brain’s capacity was limited on this dark and gloomy morning since I couldn’t remember shit.

He whistled. “Well, that is something. The street value will be quadruple that.”

“I know. An investment he doesn’t want to lose.” I lowered my hand, mimicking what I could see on the screen. Hell, I sucked at this.

“I’ll tell you the same thing you told me a few months ago. Don’t do anything stupid. Nothing is worth risking your life for.”

An electric charge hit me in the face and I quickly minimized the screen. Her sweet fragrance alone gave her approach away.

As Marissa walked into the room, I was forced to take a deep breath.

She’d opted for black jeans and a stunning violet sweater, which brought out her eyes.

I was momentarily lost in studying them.

She stood with one hand on her hip, her other around a coffee cup.

She was pensive, studying me exactly the way she had at the hospital.

Last night had been almost a dream, but the lingering aftereffects were more difficult and invasive than I’d been prepared for.

“Yeah, Mikhail. Sometimes there is.”

“Just remember you don’t want Popov as an enemy.”

“We’ll talk more later after I’ve determined what I want to do.”

“Fine. If you need more men, let me know.”

“Will do.” What my brother didn’t know was that Popov had already created another enemy the moment he’d had someone put several bullets in my friend’s chest.

And he had threatened Marissa. It didn’t matter the circumstances. Vladimir would learn several valuable lessons. At least my morning had been productive. I’d discovered the detective’s home address. How convenient. He had the day off.

What hadn’t been productive was the time the soldiers had spent scouring the city. They’d learned very little other than that Popov had a tight hold on the area, and many loyal people. That meant there was no one in town that could be trusted.

She didn’t move any closer and I wondered if keeping her distance was trying to provide some space for her to think. “Am I interrupting?”