What the hell do I do now?
“Katia, lower the gun.”
“You’re supposed to be helping,” London adds. “What are you doing?”
Katia yanks Noah backward and forces him back into the chair. Then she towers over him, a familiar, deadly gleam in her eyes. “I’m taking care of the problem.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” London protests. She holds her hands up on either side of her and tries to remain calm. “He hasn’t done anything.”
Katia’s eyes darken. “If that’s what you need to convince yourself, that’s on you, Blondie. You’re too blinded by your feelings.”
“But—”
“That’s why you’re here,” Katia interrupts. “I’m here to bring a stop to this.”
The color drains from London’s face. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Katia raises an eyebrow. “You’re not stupid, Blondie, so don’t act like it. You know who I am and what I do.”
London swallows. “But he’s not—”
Katia taps the gun against Noah’s temple, and he winces. “I don’t give a shit what you think. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a loose end, and I’ve been dying to get my hands on him for months.”
I cover the space between us and wait for Katia to look at me. “I’m still questioning him. Now, lower the gun before I make you.”
Katia quirks a brow. “He should be bleeding and begging for his life, and you know it.”
Katia knows me better than most people, and she’s been to her fair share of interrogations.
She knows every trick up my sleeve, and she knows why I’m holding back.
Because I can’t stop replaying London’s words on a loop in my head.
I’m terrified that if I lay a finger on him, that will be what makes her leave.
Even now, he can’t stop screwing with us.
Fucking Noah.
You know what needs to be done. Quit stalling and do what you’ve been trained to do.
“I’m getting to that part,” I respond. “But he’s mine to question, not yours.”
“He’s going to deny it,” Katia says.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Noah sputters. “I don’t know how reporters and journalists wound up at your estate.”
I turn to Noah. “So, your brother looking into me is just a coincidence?”
Bullshit.
Noah is hiding something, and if I have to spend days waiting him out, I’ll do what needs to be done.
But I can’t do it with London standing a few feet away, looking like she’s going to be sick all over the hardwood floors.
A muscle ticks in Noah’s jaw. “I already told you that I didn’t…”
