Page 13 of The Enforcer's Vow

"How slowly?"

"She agreed to see me again. We had drinks yesterday. She's warming to me."

"And her brother?"

Damir Mirov—the ghost we're all chasing, the loose thread that could unravel everything if pulled the wrong way. I keep my expression neutral.

"She hasn't heard from him recently. Or so she claims."

"Do you believe her?"

"I think she's telling the truth about not knowing where he is. But she's definitely not telling me everything she knows about his business."

Rolan nods slowly. "That's expected. Family loyalty runs deep, even when it shouldn't." He stands and walks to the window, hands clasped behind his back. "The girl is our best path to finding him. Stay close to her. Make her believe you're on her side."

"Understood."

"I mean it, Maksim. She needs to trust you completely. Whatever it takes."

I know what he's asking. Whatever it takes has a specific meaning in our world. It means crossing lines, breaking rules, doing things that can't be undone. I've done it before.

"I'll handle it," I say.

"Good." He turns back to me. "How long do you think you'll need?"

"Hard to say. She's not naive. If I push too hard, too fast, she'll pull back."

"Then don't push. Draw her in. Make her want to come to you."

I stand to leave, but he speaks again before I reach the door.

"Maksim?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful with this one. Smart women are dangerous in ways that aren't always obvious."

I nod and leave him to his files and his expensive furniture. The drive back to the city takes thirty minutes through empty streets. I use the time to think about Zoya, about the way she watched me during dinner, the careful way she answered my questions.

She's playing a game too. That much is clear. The question is whether she knows I'm playing one back.

By the time I reach her neighborhood, it's nearly nine. Her apartment building is a five-story brick structure with narrow windows and a green front door that needs repainting. I park across the street and study the building for several minutes.

Third floor, corner unit. I can see light behind her curtains. She's awake.

I cross the street and press the buzzer for her apartment. The intercom crackles to life after a moment.

"Yes?" Her voice sounds tired.

"It's Maksim."

A pause. "It's late."

"I know. I was in the neighborhood and saw your light on. I thought maybe..." I let my voice trail off, inject a note of uncertainty. "I'm sorry. This was a bad idea."

"Wait." Another pause, longer this time. "Come up. Third floor."

The door buzzes and I push it open. I climb to the third floor and find her waiting in her doorway, wearing jeans and an oversized sweater. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she looks younger without the careful composure she maintains in public.