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CONOR

“Bogdan Belyaev is a front,” I said by way of greeting, taking note of the fact she was playing the song I’d sent her again.

After turning down the volume, Star picked up her coffee mug from the nightstand. “What?”

“Did you do a rundown on him?”

“Yes, at the time. No criminal record. He lived off a trust fund. Had a house in…” She frowned. “I want to say somewhere on the Ohio/Kentucky border.”

“Yeah, and that’s it. That’s what I found too. No loans, no credit card debts. Not even a car was registered in his name. Just the house and money that came in from a ‘trust fund.’”

“And a Russian bride,” she drawled, starting to take a sip from her coffee before, eyes lighting up, she paused when I handed her a pack of Jelly Bellys.

“I couldn’t even find a payment for her in his accounts. I’m telling you someone bought his ID and used it as a front.”

Halfway through opening the bag of candy, she rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I was fixated on that story yesterday, but it’s a waste of time.”

Knowing she wanted me to drop it and seeing her abandon the treat out of nerves, I obeyed… in a sense. “After what Eoghan said about there being a total wipeout from the accident, I went digging.”

“For?”

“Insurance logs.”

“Interesting.” Her gaze drifted to my throat where her hickey peeked back at her. “Why?”

Fuck, I loved that possessive look.

“Because people always file for insurance after a pile-up. Unless the agent killed everyone involved, which is possible, don’t get me wrong, someone was bound to claim medical care.”

“So you’ve been swiping through years’ worth of health insurance claims in the Cincinnati area?” She pulled a face. “I need to start paying you.”

I had to laugh. “Yeah, it’s been pretty torturous.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I started with ambulance call-outs then narrowed it down to walk-ins to the ER department.”

“Why?”

“Because the ambulance call-outs’ source ran dry but also because, if this is a whack job conspiracy, maybe the person who needed an ambulance to get to a hospital could have ‘died’ en route.”

“I felt like Eoghan was saying there was one person on the job.”

“He did. But does that seem likely for a mission of this scale? Plus, he’s known for being a sniper. Would you send a sniper in to start a car crash?” I hitched a shoulder. “I’m not a spy so I don’t know, but I’d assume that people have talents and these kinds of divisions have teams to fulfill certain tasks.”

“Logical assumption.” She took a sip of coffee. “Operation: Snake may have a different method.”

I laughed. “That’s a less grandiose title.”

She just toasted me with her mug. “Okay, so you’ve come to me about this while I’m assimilating keywords for a reason, I’m guessing? And not just because you want a wage increase from unpaid data analyst to paid hacker?”

Snorting, I informed her, “I want a better job title than that. And a corner office with windows.”

She hid her grin behind her mug of coffee. “Technically, you have an office with a view.”

I looked straight at her. “You’re right. I do.” When she blushed, I smirked, pleased with the reaction which I promptly ignored to reason, “Anyway, as I was saying, it took a lot of digging and my code outdid itself as I’m sure will come as no surprise.” Her eye roll told me I was reaching. “But I found one patient on the twenty-fourth of February who walked into an ER in Cincinnati, complaining of a fractured wrist after being involved in a vehicular incident in New Cloverfield.”

“And?”

“That vehicular incident was never recorded anywhere .”

“So the medical insurance never paid out?”

“Nope. Remember I said my code outdid itself? I had it trawl through fucking claims all night too. Honestly, the code deserves the office with a window and not me.”

“You think that’s the crash in question?”

I shrugged. “Not sure. But it’s funky, isn’t it?”

“Not really. Lots of things could be filed under ‘vehicular incident.’”

Because I’d trapped her in a corner, I smirked. “This patient went on to be remanded into a mental health facility for speaking about a massive pile-up that occurred on their main exit out of the town. She apparently went crazy at the local police station and attacked one of the cops when he told her she was losing her mind.”

“What?!”

I nodded.

“The bastard was gaslighting her!”

“Seems like it. The insurance paid out that time. On her medical records, she states that three vehicles were involved. It’s a road that people commute through to get to Cincinnati so it’s busy with out-of-towners.”

“How big is New Cloverfield?”

“Not big. But it’s mostly a township. Clusters of houses around a lake.”

“Huh. What happened to her? Can we find her to question her?”

I winced. “That’s the sad part. She killed herself. Unrelated to that, I think. But who knows? Her husband died and they had a ton of medical debt. That fracture she got in the crash, there were complications. She needed surgery and you know how that can run up the costs.”

“All of a sudden, you owe a hundred grand for being involved in a crash that the cops say didn’t happen. I think I’d have lost my shit too.”

“That’s what makes New Cloverfield perfect for a cover-up like this. They’re served by a small unit of cops who are overstretched. Anyone who did make a fuss, it’d be easy to kill them or to pay them off.”

“More likely they’d die.” She rubbed her temple. “This is a massive stretch, Conor.”

“You think I don’t know that? If I was certain about any of this, I’d have crowed from the rooftops. Instead, I’ve got a potentially unstable woman claiming she was involved in a road traffic accident that no one else says happened.” My arms flopped in the air. “It’s definitely a stretch, but isn’t that what also makes it perfect?”

Star tapped her fingers against the table. “Maybe.”

“Did Dead To Me call?”

“She did. She’s on her way.”

“What do you want her to do?”

“Be involved. She keeps me honest.”

I leaned back against the table. “Stops you from lying?”

She hummed. “To myself. Plus, she’s a great multitasker. Operation: Snake would definitely send her out on a task like this by herself. She makes MacGyver look un-MacGyvery.”

“There’s an adjective for you.”

“Perfect for D, though.” Sinking back into her pillow fort, she folded her arms across her chest. “We have an unknown accident taking place in a tiny township with no witnesses. How does that get us anywhere?”

“It doesn’t. But I thought you could ask Kat about it.”

“I’m telling you it was a brain fart,” she groaned.

“You should ask,” I prodded.

“Ask her about a random town she probably didn’t drive through? Bring up a subject she’s finally stopped having nightmares about on a whim?”

“It isn’t a whim. You think I’d want to stir up old nightmares when I know how fucking horrendous they can be myself?” I pointed a finger at her. “You wouldn’t have had the thought if your instincts hadn’t kicked in.”

“Say it is her and she’s Kuznetsov’s granddaughter. Don’t you think that’s statistically unlikely?”

“Anomalies happen for a reason.”

“I just happened to move into the MC where her long-lost sister lived. That’s one anomaly already. And we were lucky. Lucky because Kat needs Alessa, so I won’t argue that miracles don’t happen, but does lightning really strike twice?”

“You know it can happen.” But I grimaced, accepting it was unlikely. Unless… “Could you have been fed the information?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. Let’s say she isn’t your cousin. But don’t you think it fucking smells rotten as hell that you bought a manifesto on the dark web, which led to you finding her mom and then Kat? Maybe you were pushed onto that path by someone else.”

“By whom?” she demanded. “The tooth fairy?”

“Whoever put her into CPS. Who was that by the way?”

She sighed. “Her records said she was brought in by a stranger who found her.”

“Well, that’s not suspicious. Or befitting our narrative.”

“Let’s say the manifesto was planted. How would they know I’d be the one to buy it?”

“I dunno. I’m just saying anything’s possible. How did you find it? Dumb luck?”

Tugging on her bottom lip, she played with it, and I knew she was processing my argument. As wild as it was, nothing would surprise me in this throne of lies that was our basis for everything .

In a flurry of movement, she exploded upright to grab her cell from where she was charging it. Then, she selected a name, hit dial, and placed it on speaker. “Don’t speak. They won’t appreciate hearing from you.”

“Why?”

“Because you have a dick.”

That was the only answer I got before:

“Long time no hear.”

The voice was distinctly British.

Star grunted but watched me as I leaned against the wall. “Have you missed me, Minerva?”

The other woman sniffed. “Your ego is still larger than North America.”

“Seeing as yours is as big as South America, I think we’re pretty even.” Star narrowed her eyes at nothing. “I have a question for you.”

“Why should I answer it?”

“Because we used to be friends and this is a massive deal.”

Minerva sighed. “Is this about the Sparrows?”

“It’s Sparrow-adjacent. Sort of.” She rubbed her eyes. “Have you heard of Operation: Jorgmundgander?”

Minerva was silent a second, then she called out, “Ovianar?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re still living together?” Star queried politely.

“That’s irrelevant.”

Star huffed. “Just trying to be friendly.”

“Don’t bother. We’re not friends.”

“Who’s that, Minnie?”

“It’s Lodestar.”

“God, that’s a blast from the past. What do you want, Lodestar?”

“She’s asking about Operation: Jorgmundgander.”

There were a flurry of whispers that were too soft for me to properly make out what they were sharing.

Then, there was a hissed, “She needs to know.”

Star and I shared a look.

“… find… come here…”

“Danger—”

“…Sparrows down…”

One of them cleared their throat then rasped, “I think I heard about it. It’s a division that brings high spec prisoners out of jail and gets them to act on their government’s behalf to cut down their sentences.”

“Did either of you two ever work for them?” Star inquired, her tone bland, unlike the gleam in her eyes.

She’d scented gold.

The other women were silent for so long that I didn’t expect an answer. Then, Minerva, I thought it was, asked, “Why do you want to know?”

“I have a foster daughter,” Star intoned. “And I want to know if the reason I do is because one of you guys led me to her.”

When they cut the call without another word, I figured we had our answer.

Mouth taut, I rumbled, “Where do they live?”

She turned to me, but her eyes were unseeing. “London.”

Nodding, I headed over to the intercom and waited for Edgar to answer me.

“You need to tell Kuznetsov that we’re going to London for a few days.”

“Mr. Kuznetsov believed you’d be remaining in Dubrovnik, sir,” was the butler’s cautious reply.

“I’m well aware of that. But this is about our investigation. We’ll be back.”

“I’ll inform him, sir.”

“Appreciate that, Edgar.”

Turning to face Star once more, I wondered if it was a blessing or a curse to see this side of her.

She was strong. Fierce. A warrior.

She was a killer .

Unashamed. Unafraid. Unswerving in her dedication.

But she’d allowed me to pass behind that veil, and seeing her devastation was a gift because I was being given something no one else was permitted to see, yet that also meant I wanted to kill whoever made her look like this.

Those bitches were going to fry if I had my way.

Who the hell set someone up with a kid like that?

It didn’t matter that she loved Katina as if she were her own flesh and blood—she’d been played.

By allies.

I strode over to her and cupped her shoulders. She looped her arms around my waist, tucking herself into my embrace with surprising alacrity, then held me as close as I did her.

“Do you think their intent was malicious?”

Her hoarse words had me closing my eyes as I rested my chin on the crown of her head. That was when I accepted this truly was an honor—to be this woman’s strength could only ever be considered a blessing.

“We’ll find out when we get there, won’t we?”

She bobbed her head against my chest. “I don’t understand how this is possible.”

“Me neither. But when something seems impossible, it just means we haven’t figured out how someone could get to us when we think our defenses are impenetrable.” I gave her a little squeeze. “I think you should get Alessa to collect a sample of DNA from Kat on the down-low. Overnight a lock of hair to her and get them tested for familial markers. That’s the only way to know for sure if she’s related to you or not.”

Again, her head bobbed, her forehead rubbing against my chest.

Her listlessness was concerning, but before I could address the issue, my cell buzzed. I dug it out of my pocket and stared at the ‘Unknown’ on the Caller ID.

Suspecting it was Kuznetsov, I hit accept.

“Edgar tells me you wish to leave Uvala Lapad?”

“We need to head to London for a few days.”

“He said it was related to the case.”

“It is. We’ve got ourselves a lead on your granddaughter’s whereabouts.”

His indrawn breath was sharp. “Already?”

“Don’t get your hopes up. We’re still deep into our investigation?—”

“I’m surprised. I thought you’d be working on the Sparrows’ app first.”

“We already cracked that. We’re collating information as we speak to pass onto Interpol.”

“I’m in Lyon now.”

“Interpol headquarters?”

“Yes. A division of this breadth requires time and many wheels to be greased prior to its formation.”

“I’m sure,” was my polite response, but I was grateful he was going to be following through with his promise.

I’d hate to have to electrocute another old man to death.

Star snatched the phone from me, hit speaker, but spun away as she rasped, “Kuznetsov, what do you intend to do with your granddaughter if we find her?”

“When, not if. I have every faith in you, child.”

Her spine straightened as she repeated, “What do you intend to do with her? What if she’s living with a family who cares for her? What if someone adopted her and loves her?”

“What if she isn’t?”

“Say she is. Would you leave her alone?”

Silence hovered on the other line. “I’m an old man, Star. My time is short. I won’t steal her away from a loving family, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I want to know her. I want her to be safe. I want security protocols put in place that are necessary for the grandchild of a man whose position is what mine is. I want to ascertain her education is appropriate for my grandchild, and I want to ensure that her future is set.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Those are wishes that anyone would want for their family, Star.”

Her jaw clenched, then she repeated, “You won’t steal her away?”

“No. I have no intention of causing her misery or to tear a family apart if that family is worthy of her. Not when I won’t be here for her forever. But for the time I have remaining, I’d like her to know that she was not forgotten by her blood.”

“Fine.”

When she blindly shoved the phone at me, I accepted it, only to hear Kuznetsov say, “I will have Edgar arrange for your transportation to London.”

While I knew it wasn’t an offer made out of kindness but one of necessity to keep track of our whereabouts, I merely said, “Fine.”

“You should probably know that we intend to spill blood, Grandfather ,” she mocked. “If your guards believe they’re the good guys like you do, I’d send men who have dubious morals along with us.”

Kuznetsov’s sigh carried down the line, but he didn’t reply, simply cut the call.

I stared at her, wondering if she knew she antagonized him much as a teenager would with an authority figure.

Did she register that that came from an inherent feeling of safety?

A belief that Kuznetsov wouldn’t actually hurt her?

“What are you looking at, Conor?” she sniped, glowering at me.

I shot her a smile. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

My smile morphed into a grin when she let out a shriek of outrage then stormed over to the bathroom. The door slammed only after she flipped me the bird. Once inside, another growl made itself known to me, and I left her alone, knowing that would take her mind off things for a short while.

Retreating to my computer, I stared at the programs I had running. Right now, I wasn’t dealing with content, but contacts. Messages were being crawled through and email addresses were being collected.

As I stared at my secondary laptop that was still flexing its muscles as it waded through a decade of rejected insurance claims, I pursed my lips. We were no closer to uncovering the truth, but it was definitely uncanny that something had cropped up?—

My cell rang again.

“Yes?”

“Your plane will be ready in an hour.”

Fucking flying. I mean, I knew we couldn’t walk to the UK, but Jesus H. Christ, this sucked.

“Thank you.” I nearly choked on the lie as I was not grateful, but then something popped into my head. Good timing seeing as I needed the distraction. “Kuznetsov, have you heard of Operation: Jorgmundgander?”

“Yes, of course. I’m surprised you have.”

“Ran across it during our investigation,” I said smoothly. “Are they Montagues or Capulets? Montagues being Brothers and?—”

“Capulets being Sparrows, yes, yes,” was his impatient retort. “I understood the analogy. They are neither. It’s an interesting division. Neutral, allegedly. But Brothers are among the ranks as, I assume, are Sparrows.”

“How does it work?” I asked.

“The nature of the division is to prevent calamity. It was introduced during the Cold War by NATO who acted as intermediaries between the US and the USSR. High-risk, skilled operatives who were arrested by the opposition were funneled into one of three specialized prison units in the UK.

“Now, it operates only for NATO powers. Prisoners have the chance to reduce their sentences for time served while inside.”

“Was it just for field agents?”

“No.”

I thought about Eoghan and the role he played in this fuckfest. “Do they just use criminals?”

“No. It’s grown exponentially to include all manner of operatives. But it’s unusual in that nationality doesn’t matter. Only skills do.”

That answered why an American had been drafted into this operation, I guessed.

Pursing my lips, I stated, “When we’re ready to return to Dubrovnik?—”

“You will be traveling with two men who, as my granddaughter suggested, have dubious morals.” He sighed. “She endeavors to see the worst in me, but I never claimed that the Union was perfect. We are but humans, and humans are, at their hearts, self-serving.”

There was something about this old man that got to me. He had a way of saying things that hit me hard. Maybe it was because I was used to Da who was a crackpot and who hadn’t exactly sprouted words of wisdom at the dinner table, or maybe it was because Kuznetsov was right.

No body of power was capable of being entirely neutral. The human condition would never permit it.

At my lack of an answer, he asked, “May I ask why you’re heading to London?”

“We need to speak with the heads of BDSec.”

“Curious.” He paused. “I appreciate your honesty.”

I hummed.

“You’re an ally, aren’t you, Conor?”

I knew what he meant but drawled, “I’m Star’s ally. That will never change. But if I can open her eyes to something that will make her life better, then I won’t shy away from it.”

My words seemed to require some time to be absorbed. “I do not wish to hurt her.”

“I see that. She doesn’t. Are you sick? Is that why this is happening now?”

“No more than a man my age has his ailments. Death could be tomorrow or in five years.”

“So, why now?”

“Star set the timetable,” was all he said. “She found me when she was ready to.”

“You could have forced the meeting. Could have had more time with her.”

“Hindsight is a wicked beast.”

For some reason, my mind landed back on Da. “I know what you mean.”

“Mistakes are made. Rectifying them is possible. But only if we’re alive to do so.”

Though he couldn’t see me, I nodded. “Family means everything to me, Anton. If you truly mean her no ill will?—”

“And I don’t.”

“We rarely believe that we do, but that doesn’t stop it from happening. You’ve never had the chance to be a grandfather before. As you say, mistakes happen. Keep on cheering for Team Star and I’ll have your back. Throw her aside and I’ll make that fork to the hand look like a walk in the park.”

“I should be annoyed, but my granddaughter deserves a partner who will make foolhardy threats to a man who could have him killed in an instant.”

I smiled. “It’s like I keep on telling her—insanity runs in the family.”