Page 20 of Scarlet Promise (Yegorov Bratva #4)

Chapter Fourteen

ILYA

I’m not a beer drinker, but apparently Chase is.

Isaak accompanies me into the kitchen while Chase sets up in the dining room. We’ll help where needed, though with his three computers and other hardware, I’m not really sure what help I’ll be.

“He’s better than good,” Isaak says as he leans against the wall, holding open the brushed black steel fridge door. “If there’s anything, he’ll find it.”

“And your job?”

He grins. “Fridge doorman. “I’m deciding if I want a beer or bourbon.”

“Both?”

“Now that sounds like a plan. Pizza?”

I roll my eyes at him and collect a couple of bottles of the Brooklyn Breweries beer. Apparently, it’s Chase’s favorite.

It’s late afternoon, and Isaak has a rare day off, kind of. Right now, he’s setting up meetings for the leave he’s taking so he can trial here.

Today, apparently, all he has is a cocktail meeting with a long-time client at a fancy bar.

“Slumming it before you hit the highlife?” I ask.

“Getting in some reality first. Also, I’m hungry.”

“Order some, and some more beer.” I pull up the app on my phone and toss it to him. “No beer for me, so order accordingly.”

“You gotta get down here with the little people, bro.”

“I can do that while drinking vodka or bourbon.”

He laughs and sets about placing some orders, and I carry the drinks into the dining room.

Chase doesn’t look up. “Thanks, man. Nice digs.”

I pour a drink for myself and head out to the foyer, taking my phone back from Isaak and calling through to the front gate to let them know a delivery’s on its way.

I try to remember who’s working here tonight, and Elisei comes to mind. I let the gate guard know who’ll be picking up the order from them.

Next, I text Elisei, who gives me the thumbs-up. I don’t even have to check to know he’ll be there in minutes, waiting.

It’s still a gamble, and I probably should go myself or send Isaak. But trust needs to start somewhere, and Elisei doesn’t need to come in beyond the foyer.

Besides, his tip led us here.

But I’m aware of how top secret this needs to be. And even with Elisei, if I keep it between the three of us in the house—I gave Svetlana the evening off—it’s better. No slips or anything else.

If we find something.

If .

Thing is, a part of me feels restless because normally, Demyan would be here or Pavel. Apart from who Demyan is to me, I value both their opinions.

I value Isaak’s opinion, too. But this isn’t his forte, this side of things. Then again…

Maybe that’s what I need. A fresh perspective outside of the world I’m in. And apart from his skills, perhaps that’s why I offered him the job.

“You good?”

I turn at his voice and tuck my phone away. “Great. Or I will be.”

“Chase wanted to get down to hacking into the account, but he said the picture of Melor you gave me to pass along has garnered these.”

I sit on the foyer steps and take the manilla envelope from him, and he sits next to me, sipping his bourbon.

It’s an array of photos from different security cameras in various levels of blur, each one time-stamped.

There are only a few recently, and in the last one, he’s picking out sunglasses and a cap in what looks like a gas station convenience store.

It’s dated when he was spotted.

“Does it tell us anything?” Isaak asks. “As in places he’s been?”

“The last one’s at the gas station, so we know he’s got a disguise.”

“Which no one’s gonna wear all the time, and a disguise becomes as spottable as someone who wears the same suit or uniform to work once you know what to look for.” Isaak leans back on the step behind him.

I look at him with a raised brow. “Are you a detective in your spare time?”

“They don’t make enough. Come on, be real.” He grins. “It makes sense, though. Also, it’s what Chase said.”

I laugh. “Well, I don’t know him well enough to know his haunts, and these are the weeks leading up to the kidnap, so I don’t know.

One is a dive bar opposite a strip joint we collect from.

Seems he likes it. He’s been there a few more times than he collects payments.

The rest? One’s near a Simonov club, and the rest?

Maybe near his home? Supermarket, gas station…

” I’m impressed that he pulled this in a day with just one photo.

Now that he’s got the rest of the info from my PI, I’m eager to find out what he uncovers.

The ATM should give us a lot. I hope.

It takes a while for him to do his work. Once he gets the bank account details for Melor, he hacks into that to look deeper. And while that program’s running, he goes back to the ATM.

Isaak collects the pizza and beers when Elisei arrives, and we eat and drink and wait, which is not my favorite thing to do.

“I’m going back into the ATM records because there are two other withdrawals,” Chase says, “about the same as what Melor took out, which isn’t overly significant, as a lot of people will withdraw the max amount that ATM allows, but they’re close to his.

Within minutes. Did the PI mention the place was crowded? ”

“No.” I frown. “I can call?—”

“That’s fine,” Chase says. “No need. I’m guessing your PI would have mentioned it, because he wasn’t spotted anywhere near peak times, and this isn’t off the highway or a super busy road off peak. Peak is different. But off peak, they don’t see a lot of traffic so close. So…yeah…”

He goes back to work, alternating between the screens of the laptops he’s hooked up.

I look at Isaak, who shrugs.

Chase taps some more on the keyboard then points at the left screen.

“Two accounts, maybe three. The third isn’t used much, which is suspicious in and of itself, but there’s a lot of money in it.

The first is definitely his. He uses it at a lot of the places where the photos I found are.

It’s using his middle name and last name, so it’s not hidden like the third. It’s probably his everyday card.”

“Any more purchases?” I ask.

I want hotel rooms, unexpected buys.

“Not on one and two. But the third…yeah. One thing. At a store before he stopped to get gas. Food, drinks, snacks, and…fuck. Yes.”

He goes silent again, and Isaak clears his throat.

Chase looks up, pushing a hand through his sandy hair. “Sorry, man. He bought a burner. And I’m betting it’s been used.”

“You can’t trace a burner,” I say.

“You can if you’re me,” Chase says. “I’ve been ID scraping. I’ll be able to get who he’s texted and called. We can’t read the texts, but we’ll know the numbers. Give me twenty.”

“Make that fifteen,” Isaak mutters.

He slaps me lightly on the back as he reaches for the bourbon to top up my barely touched glass. He opens a beer and switches to that.

But I’m too anxious to drink. I wait in anticipation as Chase works to find the data I need.

This is as close to a lead as I’ve come.

The photos were a good start, and finding out about his three cards was a gift because now we can look out for those, too, in an effort to track him.

He’ll use his cards again when he runs out of cash, but that could be a while if he’s smart and frugal and has places where he can lie low for free.

Knowing he’s got an active burner we can trace is a game changer, though.

I hope it’s a game changer.

The information in the people he’s been calling can lead us to their phones, and it brings us closer to tracking him down.

Though I try to stop myself, I can’t stop thinking ahead. Can’t stop imagining and planning all the things I’ll do to Melor.

None of them will be good. The fucking bastard’s going to suffer greatly at my hands, triply so for touching Alina.

She still has the fading bruises from him on her face, and that… That’s a death sentence, one that’ll come after protracted suffering.

Broken bones, a beating so bad he will barely be able to breathe.

I want to rip out his guts and chop off his dick and shove it down his fucking throat.

I want to dance on his remains. Fuck. I want to burn him alive.

There are so many sick and twisted things I could do, things that will make him wish for death.

Normally, I don’t do this side of things.

But this time?

Hands-on, all the fucking way.

When Chase is done, he hands me a number to watch. It’s another burner, so apparently, it’ll be a longer process to try and access any information on who the owner is. But from what he tells me, Melor and this person have been burning up time in a couple of lengthy text exchanges.

Kion? Or Simonov? Or someone else? I don’t know, but it fills me with confidence. The fact that Chase hasn’t uncovered other sightings means he’s in one place. At least to me, it does.

Melor’s arrogant, the type who covers tracks enough and takes certain precautions to a baseline, but no deeper.

That means he’ll slip up.

After all, his goal isn’t to run and hide and start over. His goal is what’s mine. His goal is power and money, and he thinks he can just take it from me, with the help of a shifty enemy, who is a man known for not giving a fuck about others apart from himself.

That is, once their use is over.

I can see it.

Let Melor do the work to get this, and then either betray him or work with him long enough until my empire falls into his hands.

But even if Melor’s goal were as simple to achieve as he thinks, I’m not letting go.

No. He’ll slip up. And when he does, you can bet I’ll be watching.

Everyone’s gone. I take a sip of my long-forgotten bourbon.

Anticipation bubbles inside me as I sit back and look over restaurant reviews. I know a lot of them, but I want something different. Something new for both Alina and me.

She’ll be here soon, and I want romantic, small, real.

My eyes latch onto a place called The Place. It’s a family run joint, a hidden gem according to reviews, somewhere most reviewers hesitated mentioning, because while they want it to succeed, they don’t want it to be overrun.

Modern American is the restaurant’s theme, but it sounds like a melting pot of deliciousness and perfection for Alina.

I know her.

She’ll love the place.

I call and book a table for tonight at nine.

I don’t want to think about the Melor situation, because right now, I can’t do anything. Demyan, for all his overreach, is right putting a bodyguard on her, and Zoltan is the perfect choice. In fact, I’d do the same, but that’s a level of trust I won’t give anyone in my bratva. Not yet.

Not after her kidnapping.

I cross to my room and get ready, and I’m pulling on my jacket when her voice calls out.

Of course she can come right in. She still has a key.

When I come down the stairs, I falter as my heart beats wildly.

She’s utterly breathtaking. I go to her and pull her into my arms, kissing her long and deep and hot.

She responds like I’ve lit a fuse. I can taste her want, the sultry promise of sex on her, and I almost, almost , talk her into forgetting dinner and taking her upstairs to worship every inch of her.

But I placate myself with the thought of later.

“What’s that look for?” she asks me breathlessly.

“Wickedness.”

Her eyes darken, the gold at the edge of her irises flaring. “Good wickedness or bad?”

“ Malyshka , when it comes to you and me, there’s only the good. Just fantasizing about removing your panties with my teeth.”

She turns red. “I’m not hungry.”

I kiss her again. “After dinner.”

“That sounds like a plan. Where are we going?”

I smile. “The Place.”

“If you’re not going to tell me…”

That delights me and I swallow the smile.

She doesn’t know it, so she hasn’t been.

I’m eager to start fresh memories that are ours.

I don’t want to wipe anything else from her, or overwrite anything to do with Max, but new memories that belong to her and me alone are special. I need those. And so does she.

I place my hand at her back, the dark-red silk of her mid-thigh dress shifting under my palm.

She’s warm, but I hate how she feels thinner, frailer, her vertebrae more prominent.

It hasn’t even been that long since I’ve put my hand here, but maybe it’s the fact that the material is thin, and I’m not focused on pleasing her, on being inside her, that I’m noticing.

Then I take in her pallor.

“We can stay in,” I say.

Her smile is luminous. “No, I want to go out. I’m just… I’m just so stressed, you know? Unwinding will be good.”

So we head out, and I open the door of my car for her.

Alina starts to tell me about the shelter’s issues and how she wants to help, when she stops abruptly, her hand to her mouth.

I frown, slowing the car. “Are you okay?”

She shakes her head, and I pull over, thankful we’re on a suburban street.

She throws open the car door and tumbles out to throw up, ending up on her hands and knees on the grass.

I race to her side, handkerchief at the ready in one hand, phone in the other, not sure what to do.

“I’ll call an ambulance.” I kneel next to her.

She looks at me with tears in her eyes as she takes the handkerchief and wipes her mouth. “No, no, I’m fine. I didn’t have anything to throw up, just tea…”

I help her up and ease her back into the car, then I crouch in front of her.

“ Malyshka ,” I say, “what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“ Nyet ,” she answers. “As I said, I’m stressed.”

The bodyguard has also pulled over and gotten out, but he doesn’t approach, just sweeps the area with his gaze, his hand near his gun.

I return my focus to Alina. “You were sick.”

“Stress does that. All the fighting with Demyan makes me ill. I’ve been feeling tired and off for a few days.”

I frown. “I think you need to get checked out. See a doctor. Promise me.”

“Sure. Can?—”

“Tomorrow.”

She sighs. “Tomorrow. I promise.”

“Do you want me to take you?”

“No. I’ll be fine. I’ve got Erin and Isla and the bodyguard. Albert’s a great guard dog.”

Albert’s protective but nothing like a real guard dog that would rip a man apart if he touched her. But, to be fair to Albert, he’d try.

“He’s the best,” I say. “But we can swing by the hospital?—”

“I don’t need the hospital.” Alina shakes her head. “I’m good, honestly. You focus on finding Melor so I can move back in, and then I bet I’ll feel like myself again.”

Myself again , she says, like she hasn’t been.

“Doctor tomorrow?”

“I promise, Ilya.” She cups my cheek. “And promise you’ll sort the rest so I can come home.”

I smile. “I like the sound of that.”

“I… I think I’m good now. We can eat?—”

“No, malyshka ,” I say, standing. “You’re going home, and Magda, who I have on speed dial, will serve you soup.”

I make good on that, and when we arrive at Demyan’s, Magda leads Alina inside. I promise to call her later.