Page 94 of Scorned Beauty

I cast her a brief glance. “In case you forgot, baby, I’m mafia. Snatching people off the streets is part of the job description. Unless you prefer the Russian alternative.”

“No.”

“What I thought, and it’s a moot point, because it would be over my dead body that I will let that motherfucker touch a hair on your head.”

“You passed our exit,” Sloane said woodenly, but I had a feeling she knew we were heading straight for the airport.

“I’ll have my men come down here and empty the beach houses.” I had my laptop with me and I didn’t leave anything of value unattended when I traveled. “You might want to throw out the tracker.”

Sloane kept it in her purse.

“So, we’re letting whoever paid me to stay away from New York know we found the tracker?”

“I already know who it is,” I said. I had had suspicions for a few days now, but seeing Kirill here cemented my theory. It wasn’t his mother, Irina, but it was her best friend, the matchmaker to the rich, powerful, and depraved.

“Who?” Sloane asked.

“A woman called Margo Winthrop.” I checked my rearview mirror to make sure Kirill wasn’t planning to ambush us away from town. “You know her?”

“No.”

“She’s someone with connections to business, politics, and criminal organizations.”

“But why was she interested in helping me?”

“No idea.”

I hesitated too long in my answer. Sloane scoffed her disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”

I vented a resigned sigh. It was heavy with the weight of how my choices affected Sloane, which made me more determined to make it up to her. “She and my mother were discussing an arranged marriage.”

“With Kirill’s sister, right? Aralina?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t surprised Sloane knew the family tree of the Russian bratva. It helped facilitate discussion. “It’s not a good match. Ma was insistent because that was the only way we could get the properties back.”

“And that was why you were trying to get them back through Grigori?”

“Yes.”

“She’s too sweet for you,” Sloane said.

“You did some research on her?” I asked, slightly amused.

“No. I wouldn’t dare do that. I’m sure the bratva has someone monitoring anyone looking into them. Lucy told me.”

“Fuck, I hope my sister isn’t nosing around again,” I grumbled.

Sloane fell into a contemplative silence. I caught her looking out the window in my peripheral vision.

My phone flashedTrevor.

“Hey,” he said when I answered. “The plane leaves Teterboro in an hour. It’s cleared with air traffic control.”

“Thanks.” It would take us more than an hour to get to Norfolk airport, anyway. I wondered if Kirill arrived via chopper.

After I ended the call, Sloane asked, “Why not Lucy?”

I wasn’t sure what she meant? “Why not Lucy what?”