Page 29

S tevan Carmine’s condo is nestled in the middle the Gold Coast overlooking Washington Square Park. As soon as we enter the building, I sense the DeAngelo family presence.

They own a bunch of properties in this neighborhood. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were family members behind one of these doors.

“What’s the plan, Alexander?” Ivan asks as we approach Stevan’s door.

“I told you. We’re going to find Megan.” As we walk down the hall, I pull my Glock out from behind my jacket and aim it at the door. One quick shot and it’s open, making it easier for me when I get to kick the fucker in.

“Now is one hell of a time for him to go off half-cocked,” Kaz mutters behind me, drawing his gun to be ready for whatever comes next.

“I’m fully cocked.”

A woman dressed in a house uniform crosses into the foyer, sees me, and screams.

“Stevan Carmine. Where is he?” I demand.

“Bedroom,” she mutters, unable to take her eyes off the weapon I have trained on her. “Up the stairs and to the left, first… first door.”

“Sorry about him,” Kaz says as we pass her and head to the stairs. “We’ll be just a minute.”

Lev stays downstairs with the maid as I take the stairs two at a time.

Moans waft from behind the bedroom door as we approach it. Pleasure filled, erotic groans mingle with the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh.

I don’t bother with the knob; I kick this fucking door down too.

A woman shrieks. Stevan is behind her, thrusting into her while she’s on all fours. She scrambles away from him, and he falls forward, barely catching himself before landing on his face.

“What the fuck?” He turns to see us, his cheeks pale. “Who the fuck are you?”

The woman presses herself against the headboard, pulling on the sheets to cover herself.

“Go.” I nod toward the door, and she leaps from the bed, taking a sheet with her as she runs from the room. Lev will catch her downstairs and keep her contained until we’re done here.

Stevan isn’t disturbed by having the three of us in the room pointing our weapons at his face. He casually climbs off the bed, grabs the silk robe at the end, and shoves his body into it.

“What do you want?” He ties the robe closed at his waist.

“My wife. Where is she?”

“Who is your wife?” he asks, sounding almost bored.

“Megan Reed,” Ivan answers.

“Volkov. Megan Volkov,” I ground out.

He pauses a moment. “Alexander Volkov. Yes?” He gestures to me as he walks to the nightstand, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and pulling one out.

“Where is she?”

He lights the cigarette and blows a cloud of smoke up at the ceiling.

“I have no fucking idea.”

“She used to work for you.”

“A lot of people work for me. Why would I have her?” He takes another drag, letting the cigarette dangle from his mouth as he walks to the other side of the room.

“I don’t think you’re understanding the trouble here.” I squeeze the trigger, and his cigarette disappears from his mouth.

Stevan freezes, his entire body locking up for a moment before he slowly turns back to face me. What’s left of the cigarette butt drops from his mouth when he opens it.

“I don’t have your wife.” His voice drops, and finally, he’s realizing I’m willing to blow his fucking head off if he doesn’t have the answers I want. “Really. I don’t know who she is.”

“Your wife is fucking around behind your back. You need evidence to the fact, so you don’t lose your balls in your divorce. So, you have your friend Marco get her involved in a fact-finding mission. Is any of this ringing any bells?” I move the barrel of my gun to aim at his balls.

His face twists at the mention of Marco. “Marco’s behind this?”

He doesn’t sound like a man talking about a friend. There’s more disgust in his tone than anything else.

“You should tell me everything you know.” I don’t move my gun, and I’m getting impatient.

“I don’t know anything. Cheryl is a fucking whore; she’s been fucking anything that moves for years. I don’t give a shit, but then she files for divorce and wants half of everything. No fucking way.” He sinks on the bed, sitting at the edge.

“Go on,” I urge.

“Right after she filed, Amelia Thompson shows up and tells me she knows my wife’s been fucking her husband. I ask if she has proof that I can use, and she says she’ll work on it. That’s all I fucking know. Her husband dropped dead a week later, and I haven’t seen her since.”

Slowly, I lower my gun. Dexter’s fucking wife took him out.

Poison is generally a woman’s weapon.

“So, you never got the proof you needed?” Ivan presses.

“No, but I told Cheryl I had it or was going to get it. It was a fucking fight; I don’t remember exactly what I said.”

“When was that?” Kaz asks.

“Right after Amelia and I talked.”

“And where is your wife now?”

“I have no clue. Probably swimming around some sewer like the other vermin in this city. But she has a condo in Lincoln Square; she could be there.”

“And Marco? He plays into this somehow. What’s his involvement?” My finger’s getting itchy. If I can’t shoot this asshole, I need to find somewhere to put my anger.

The longer this all takes, the longer Megan is sitting somewhere with people who want her hurt. Or dead.

My teeth snap at the idea. I can’t lose her.

I will not fucking lose her.

“Other than he’s been fucking my wife too?” He half laughs. “I don’t care what you do. Shoot him, sell her, just leave me out of the whole thing.” He swipes a hand through the air.

“I want the address,” I tell him.

“I’ll get it. You get in the car and start heading that way.” Ivan taps my shoulder. “I’ll text it.”

Kaz is right behind me as I jog back down the stairs. Lev stands in the living room, with both frightened women sitting on the couch, staring up at him.

He puts a hand in the air, letting me know he’ll stick around with Ivan as we pass through.

“Get a hold of Sergei,” I tell Kaz as we climb into the SUV, me behind the wheel. “Tell him to go through those photos and the drive again. Cheryl knew we had that photo of her; that’s probably when she went to Marco for help. Maybe there’s someone else in those photos, someone else at the club she’s been screwing around with that might lead us to whoever told her how to get into the records.”

Kaz gets right on it, tapping away on his phone while I peel out into the street.

The sunlight is already starting to fade. I may not know exactly where my woman is, but I know one thing for fucking certain.

Anyone who’s put a finger on her is going to fucking pay with their life.

And by the time she sleeps tonight, she will be home.

Our home.