Page 37 of Scarlet Vows (Yegorov Bratva #3)

When my digging into things turns up nothing, I head out with my iPad and spend almost three hours tailing and watching Santo.

I gain nothing.

Not one fucking thing.

He has meetings, but he seems pissed. He visits a couple of regular houses, stepping in for a half hour or ten minutes here and there.

Sometimes he just hands over an envelope.

And then it hits me.

He’s visiting the homes of families of his men who were lost.

It doesn’t exactly lift him up in my mind, and it doesn’t exonerate him, but…it’s something.

I hit hour four when he’s back home. My search and the intel from my informants give me nothing. I do have a PI I trust and use, but I’ll use him when I’m ready.

A few people have arrived, but they’re people I recognize, families Santo does business with but no one who’s in business or aligned with Simonov.

Finally, I head home.

My phone buzzes as I step inside.

Melor

Can we please meet?

After his attitude the other evening, I’m not sure I want to. But it’s not like I can say no. It’s not like I can afford to lose even a tenuous ally.

Me

Da. Come over.

He arrives ten minutes later, and I lead him to my office. He sits and accepts the vodka I place in front of him. I hold my glass and wait.

“I have come to apologize.”

I don’t react to his words.

“I don’t blame you, Ilya, for what happened. I trust you thought you were doing the right thing. The others, however, are a different story. Some have been to the hospital, and Denis… Well, he didn’t have good things to say. ”

A bolt of anger shoots through me. With everything Denis did, I thought he might at least be open and willing to listen.

Right now, that doesn’t matter.

“Denis is injured,” I say. “And I got him out.”

“The others aren’t so willing to forgive,” he continues, ignoring me. “A real leader would’ve known he was walking into a trap—their words, not mine. And they’re even calling for you to step down as pakhan.”

That isn’t so easy, not with the will and all the stipulations. Especially if I walk…

But I don’t tell him that. It’s my decision, ultimately.

He breathes out and downs half his vodka, looking uneasy.

“Out with it,” I say.

Melor nods. “They want me to take over.”

“That’s too fucking bad. They can leave if they want, but until I’ve dealt with Santo, I’m not doing a damned thing.”

“I thought you should know.” He reaches for the bottle and tops up his glass then drinks deeply once more. “I’m not surprised this Santo double-crossed us. He’s done it before.”

Then there is information. Somewhere.

“I’ve looked into it, but I haven’t found any evidence so far. Look further into it for me.” I take a sip. “Dig up what you can on Santo and get it back to me.”

Melor finishes his vodka and stands. “I’ll get right on it. You can count on me.”

He leaves. I take another sip as his footsteps recede, and then the door downstairs closes.

I throw the fucking glass. “Fuck!”

I kick a hole in the wall, letting the savagery out. I keep slamming my foot into the mess I’ve made, making the hole bigger, until Alina speaks.

“Ilya? ”

I stop. “What?”

“I just wanted to check that everything’s okay, but you’re redecorating without me.”

She crosses toward me and puts a hand on my arm, and calm spreads through me, cutting through my rage.

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’m fucking cut out for this. I’m useless, nothing more than a second. I’m not Demyan. Fuck, I’m not even my asshole grandfather.”

“Ilya…” Alina lays her cheek against my arm.

“No, you’re not either one of them. And never compare yourself to the hateful old man again.

Of course you’re not him. You’re better.

You can’t think Demyan trusts you to run things if he thought you couldn’t, because you don’t know my brother if you do.

You’ve made the hard decisions for years for my brother.

“And you’re more than capable of leading his bratva. And you can lead this one. You just need to believe that for yourself.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I mutter.

“I’m always right.” She hesitates. “Are you sure Santo did this?”

Thing is, I followed him and looked into him, and nothing turned up. Nothing, that is, apart from Melor’s word.

“I don’t know.”

She rises up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “Then be sure. Whatever you need to do. Be sure before you act. I’m going to the shelter, but I’ll be back in a few hours. Gus is downstairs.”

She leaves, and I frown.

Maybe Alina has a point. I need to be sure. And I need someone outside all of this.

I come back to the private investigator.

One of the reasons I sometimes hire him is I trust him. I don’t use him all the time, just for jobs where I need a bipartisan job. Where I need the facts. He has no skin in the game for any side or person. A job is a job, and he’s both insanely expensive and insanely good.

Every job I’ve had him do for Demyan has turned up results.

So I call him, give him the rundown and what I need.

Evidence or proof of a connection. At first, I almost ask him to follow Santo. But then I change my mind.

It makes more sense to go to the source.

I tell him to see who Simonov meets, and right before I hang up, I change my mind again.

“Can you add someone else to my list?”

“It’s a short list. And it’s your money,” he says.

“I’ll send you the info.”

When we hang up, I sit.

In this game, when I’m walking in at the top, I can’t trust anyone. Naivete doesn’t work.

So I asked him to look into Melor.

He’ll turn up nothing, I’m sure. Out of everyone, if I take Santo out of the game, the only other person who has anything to gain from my demise is Melor.

“Let’s just hope I’m wrong.”