Page 11

11

ERIK

“ A nastasia, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

She sits before me at her desk, head bowed and pen scribbling rapidly over the paper in front of her.

Ever since the Cartel moved into town, something’s been off.

She’s been more tense than usual and her request to put security on high alert has alarm bells ringing in my mind.

The only problem is she’s not telling me why.

Something has made her clam back up just when I thought I was making progress.

And there’s a growing part of me that wants her to talk to me just so I can help her.

I want her to look at me with trust in her eyes while she tells me what’s bothering her.

I want to ease the weight on her shoulders and provide comfort and support.

Instead, she’s keeping me at arm’s length when I yearn for so much more.

“What do you mean?” She doesn’t look up, entirely focused on her work.

“The Cartel have been breezing through town for a week and we have everyone on high alert. I respect that because the Cartel are known for making a mess of everything, especially with the Italians. But why do you have us acting like things are about to implode at any second?”

“I’m not.”

“Anastasia—”

“Erik.” Her head snaps up and her hair cascades over one shoulder.

“Does your need to know every single detail affect your ability to protect me? Because if it does, I can find someone else.”

Despite the sharpness in her words, I can tell from the look on her face that she doesn’t really mean that.

She’s pushing back against me, and it’s not a wise decision for me to meet her head to head.

It’s difficult to resist the urge, though.

“No, but the more I know, the more thorough I can be.”

“You know what you need to know. The Cartel are a high threat and we need to be on the ball in case they try anything. I don’t see why you need to know any more than that.”

“Knowing why they will want to make a move helps me anticipate weaknesses that they could exploit,” I remind her.

“Are they angry enough to charge in here, guns blazing? Are they annoyed enough to try a sneaky route? There’ve been multiple attempts on your life already.”

“I’m aware.” She scribbles something aggressively onto the paper.

“And the more I know, the more avenues I can cover.”

“If you can only protect me by receiving very specific information,” Anastasia says as she stands abruptly, “then maybe you’re just not very good at your job.” She folds up the paper and slides it into an envelope, then steps away from her desk and hands it to me.

“Make sure Cormac gets this. Or do you need to know the contents in order to deliver it?”

The ice lacing her tone sends a shiver down my spine.

Before I can reply, she strides out of the room and I’m left in silence.

Any other situation and I’d think she’s just being a raging bitch, the regular ice princess everyone else sees.

But I see deeper.

She’s nervous.

Every time we go out, I see it in her eyes.

I’d even go as far as to suspect that she’s scared, but I don’t know why, and that irritates me.

Anastasia retires for the night, and I head out to deliver her letter to Cormac.

The sudden deal between her and Cormac seemed like a good thing until Viktor caught wind of it.

In his eyes, such an alliance is useless, and it lets everyone know that we’re incapable of taking care of ourselves.

I disagree.

The Russians and the Irish have been at odds for as long as anyone can remember, and this might be the first time words have been exchanged without accusation.

It can only be a good thing.

Then again, Viktor’s been on my ass about the lack of proof regarding Sergey’s death, and I don’t quite have the heart to tell him yet that he’s wrong.

Anastasia didn’t kill her father.

I don’t know who did it, but I’m convinced of her innocence.

Each attempt on her life leads me to believe something else is going on, but I can’t quite see what it is.

There’s a connection I haven’t been able to decipher quite yet.

The trip to the Irish takes me a couple of hours, and when I return, Anastasia has retired to bed.

The estate is quiet while I do my nightly check-in with all the patrols and ensure that everything is locked up tight and secure.

Then I should head to bed, but something makes me hesitate at the bottom of the stairs.

I need some answers.

Something to appease Viktor and my own mind.

It’s in Anastasia’s best interests, really, and it’s my job to act in those interests.

With my heart in my mouth, I leave the staircase and head down to Anastasia’s office.

The door is locked.

Hardly a problem.

By the time I unlock it and slip inside, my heart is beating more frantically than usual and tension pulls tight across my shoulders.

If there are any answers, they’ll be here.

I start in the filing cabinets and cupboards, skimming through every file and document that I can reach.

Nothing jumps out at me, though I’m not sure what I even want to find.

Unexpected proof that she killed her father?

Some strange connection to the Cartel?

Or nothing at all?

As the minutes trickle by, I grow more desperate in my search.

If I find nothing, then I remain in the dark and I have nothing to calm Viktor and his ever-increasing desperation to avenge his friend.

It’s loyalty I admire and share to an extent.

Despite the terrible things that have happened under this family, it saved me.

Viktor saved me.

He gave me a chance at life and the strength to get revenge on the people who harmed my sister if I ever crossed paths with them.

Money in my pocket and a roof over my head are a fair price to pay to turn a blind eye to everything else.

The alternative is being dead in the gutter by twenty-one.

So, the pull to help Viktor remains strong within my heart, even as everything I learn about Anastasia hints that Viktor is looking in the wrong place.

But if I can prove this, then there’s a chance I can get them to work together to hunt down the Pakhan’s killer.

Then I’m certain the threats against Anastasia’s life will be quelled.

There’s a connection there, I’m sure of it.

The filing cabinets tell me nothing I don’t already know.

Something makes me hesitate when I approach Anastasia’s desk.

This is her space.

Her fluffy pink pen sits in a cup holder next to her monitor, exploding with sparkles as the screensaver hides all information from me.

An empty glass with a red lipstick stain sits on a dark coaster, and the keyboard badly hides an old nail polish stain.

This is her desk, and touching anything feels like an invasion of privacy that I can’t take back.

It’s for her own good.

Taking a deep breath, I rummage through her drawers and am met with the same lack of information as before.

Until I come across a small black leather book tucked at the back of the bottom drawer.

Gold ink swirls across the cover in an intricate pattern that’s rather garish to look at.

Resting back in the chair, I flip open the book.

The handwriting isn’t Anastasia’s.

It’s too scrawly for that.

Given the slight yellowing of the pages and the first handful of dates in the left column, this must have belonged to Sergey.

There are countless numbers, money amounts, and then names that are somewhat illegible in the beginning.

Dates going all the way back to the fifties.

Each amount is scratched off.

As I flick further into the book, it’s not until halfway through that the names become clearer and haven’t been scratched off.

What is this?

Gambling?

No, Sergey wasn’t a gambling man.

At least not in the strictest sense.

The last entry is from a month before Sergey died.

Before that, there are four pages filled with amounts that haven’t been scratched off and my heart sinks as the recent names catch my eye.

They’re all Cartel members.

“Shit,” I murmur softly.

“You asshole .”

Anastasia let slip something about debt last week at the hospital and I didn’t think much of it, but the arrival of the Cartel in the city and this book make everything clear.

Sergey was borrowing money.

An eye-watering amount, from the looks of things, and he’s been doing it for decades.

But for some reason, he stopped paying it back.

That debt now lands on Anastasia’s shoulders and if the Cartel are here, it’s clear they’ve grown tired of waiting.

Is this the connection I’m looking for?

A sudden murmur of voices in the hallway makes my heart jump.

I shove the book back where it belongs, close the drawer, and leap from the chair.

After a glance around the office to ensure everything is as it should be, I slip out into the hall and close the door just as Faina and one of the night guards walk around the corner.

“And I need you to make sure that the west—Erik?” Faina’s eyes narrow and she glances between me and the door to Anastasia’s office.

“What are you doing?”

I shrug as casually as I can.

“What do you mean? I was just passing by.”

“No you weren’t. I saw you come out of there. Anastasia is upstairs. What were you…?”

My mind races with an excuse and turns my pleasant smile into a frown.

“The door was open. Given how high on alert we are, I had to check that nothing was amiss. The last thing we need is someone slipping in here and causing harm because someone took their eye off the ball. And if you’re directing the guards…” I glance coldly at the security member next to her.

“It’s no wonder I’m finding open doors everywhere. Try and be more careful.”

Faina’s eyes widen in shock, and I’m not sure she completely buys my excuse, but it doesn’t matter.

I need to find Viktor.

“The Cartel?” Viktor drags in a long, slow breath around his cigar.

When he breathes, the smoke is carried away in the light breeze drifting through the patio.

This late at night, the stars are out in force and the moon is so bright, I can see all the way to the back gate.

“Yup. Don’t you see what this means? Sergey was in debt. Pretty deep debt.”

“Yes.” Viktor nods, but he doesn’t seem all that surprised by my revelation.

“Did you know?” I ask, fighting to keep the slight accusatory tone out of my voice.

“Oh, of course not, my boy. If I did, I would have told you.” He drags on his cigar again and glances at me.

“Although I know Sergey was searching for ways to expand the business. I simply thought he was being savvy in keeping us relevant in this race to control organized crime.”

“So you have no idea that he was so deep in debt with the Cartel that they would be pissed?”

“If we are in debt,” Viktor says, “and I’m not saying we are because that book could be anything, really, then I can see why the Cartel would be pissed.”

“Exactly. Look.” I step closer.

“Anastasia let slip about the debt. She’s been keeping it a secret, probably because she doesn’t want to worry anyone. Now the Cartel are here, and she’s completely closed off.”

“Because she’s a cunt,” Viktor mutters.

I ignore that.

“Don’t you see the connection? This is what we’ve been missing! They killed Sergey because he wouldn’t pay, and now they’re after Anastasia for the same thing. And each attempt has failed, so now they’re here openly.”

“No.”

My mind falters at his sudden denial.

“No?”

“The Cartel wouldn’t kill their key to millions. That’s hardly a good business move.”

“You don’t understand. He’s owed them money for years, Viktor. It makes total sense that they got tired of waiting.”

“No.” He shakes his head again and turns to face me.

“She’s blinded you.”

Frustration bubbles in my chest, and the chill of the wind is no longer enough to keep the heat from my skin.

“No,” I snap.

“You’re the one who’s blinded.”

“Am I?” He raises one bushy brow.

“Tell me. What makes more sense? The Cartel kills their money maker, making it impossible for them to get a penny they owe, or she killed him for some pathetic power grab and now is faced with a debt she didn’t expect? Why didn’t the Cartel make a move sooner, if that’s the case? Did you even consider that Sergey could have had something in place to appease the Cartel? Something that hasn’t been upkept because he was murdered and the culprit had no idea?”

It frustrates me that Viktor makes sense.

I have no answer for why the Cartel would wait so long, but something in my gut tells me he’s wrong.

It’s not often we disagree, but I can’t stop the frustration from bubbling over.

“Or maybe they got tired of waiting, huh? The Cartel could have waited for any number of reasons,” I snap as my mind races.

“I mean, the Irish were tearing up the city for a while and the cops were on high alert looking for a murderer. If I were the Cartel, I wouldn’t make a move until stuff has calmed down. And frankly, what is your problem? Again and again, I bring you things that suggest we’re looking in the wrong area, but you’re so hard focused on Anastasia. What do you know that I don’t?”

“Listen to yourself!” Viktor’s cigar falls from his lips and crumbles on the ground as he surges forward and grabs me by the collar.

“You’ve fucking fallen for her, haven’t you?”

“No!” I grab Viktor’s wrist, attempting to wrestle free.

“You have! You’re blinded by her beauty, Son. I can see it clear as day!”

“That’s not what’s happening at all!”

“Bullshit!” He suddenly shoves me away, his face twisted with anger that melts quickly into a tired defeat.

“Don’t you remember how much I sacrificed to raise you? Everything I did to keep you here under the safety of this family even when you tried to run away to the army? All I want is justice for my friend and I’m losing you to some bitch . No one sees her for what she really is, but I do.”

Viktor’s shoulders sag forward and guilt worms up amid my frustration.

“Viktor… I’m not blinded. I don’t feel anything for her, I swear.” Lying is too easy.

“She’s on the brink of destroying everything Sergey and I spent decades building, Erik. Don’t you see? She’s dismantling everything we’ve worked for, shaking the stability of every family that serves under us and removing their safety nets. So you need to get your act together.” He turns to face me once more.

“I am. The Cartel?—”

“Enough with the damned Cartel! It’s these kinds of distractions that will ruin us, boy. How much longer are we going to do this? The world won’t wait forever, and before we know it, some other family will see how weak she makes us and rise up, wiping us out and taking our place at the top.”

My heart sinks.

In some ways, he’s right.

Not locating the killer of our Pakhan already makes us look weak.

Have I really been that blinded?

“We need proof, Son. Or a confession.” Viktor’s hand cups the side of my neck.

“The sooner you get hard proof, the sooner we can present it to the other families and execute her, reminding everyone that we are on top. Do you understand, Son?”