“Twenty-four hours ago. Some asshole prosecutor who is new to the Boston DA’s office. He’s clearly on someone’s payroll. No one puts together an arrest warrant with that kind of speed. My sources say he’s already working on an extradition request.”
“We have half a dozen witnesses to prove we were here,” I say dismissively. “This has to be Kholodov’s game.”
Uncle Alec looks at the paperwork again. “The Banner company’s being managed by a law firm who claims to be the executors of the estate. There is supposedly documentation that Marlena and Kyle created a trust that would give the Brookline Legal Firm full rights for management of the company and its assets. Brookline has offices in Moscow as well; it's clearly a legal vehicle for Kholodov to gain control.
“They’ve already filed a motion to halt the release of Scarlett’s trust to her on her twenty-third birthday on the grounds that she’s ineligible after facing three first degree murdercharges and arson.”
“Kholodov’s trying to keep us busy while he strips the company down to nothing,” I scoff. “These charges won’t stick.”
“I’ve already got our legal team on it,” he says.
“Wait- hold on,” Scarlett says. “I hated those people. But they wereburnedto death?” She’s shaking, Murder Mittens is soothingly kneading her lap with her paws. “Where did this happen?” Tears spill out of her shocked eyes, pouring down her cheeks. “Was it at the house?”
“No. Their bodies were found in one of the smaller cannabis warehouses by Revere. They were shot point-blank before the fire was set, so they were dead before the fire was set.” Uncle Alec’s lips tighten. “Kholodov selected the building with the least amount of loss to the company’s bottom line.”
“That is terrible,” she sobs. Murder Mittens gives a distressed yowl, trying to lick the tears off Scarlett’s cheeks. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying."
"Because as reprehensible as they were," Alec says kindly, "they were your last link to your life before you lost your father, were they not?"
"Alec, can you give us a moment?"
“Of course,” he says, giving Scarlett a small smile before he leaves, shutting the door behind him.
“Scarlett, whyareyou so upset? Have you forgotten that they sold you to Khokolov? Marlena hired mercenaries and tried tokidnapyou.” She looks up at me with her watery, bay blue eyes and for the first time, all I feel is impatience.
“I know,” she nods, “I know that."
“This is yet another roadblock in our way. One more thing my legal team must deal with.” My tone is sharper than I mean it, but as I check my watch, I curse. “Fuck. I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes. Don’t leave the house today. I want to make sure you’re safe in case Kholodov tries something else.”
“Wallace, wait-”
“I have to go.” I walk out of the room, not wanting to see the disappointment on her face.
Nor do I want her to see the irritation on mine.
Two days later…
“Do you have to do this yourself?”
Scarlett’s standing in the doorway of our dressing room, watching me get dressed in my black tactical suit.
“Good management leads by example,” I say, lacing up my boots. “I want it to be very clear tothe Albanians who is destroying them.”
A strange smile flits over her lips. “I’m pretty sure it’s clear, sweetheart. Your calling card is always big. And destructive. Often explosive.” She starts laughing helplessly, one hand over her mouth.
“What’s so funny?” I pull on my gun holster, checking to make sure the clip is full on my Glock.
“Well, they’re trying to pin the arson and murder on you in Boston, but your real alibi is that you were setting half of the Docklands in East London on fire.” She sits down, still laughing.
“Is this hysterical laughter, Scarlett?”
“No.” She manages to calm down a bit. “Morgan and I both have deeply dark senses of humor. It’s been very helpful in recent years.”
“I can imagine.” After briefly kissing her cheek, I get up, checking the rest of my gear. “Walk me to the door?”
She’s so bonnie, this lass, even with red-rimmed eyes, they’re still the vivid blue of the ocean and her hair is like living fire, tumbling down her back. When she straightens her back and says, “Of course,” I realize something terrible.
I’ve gone past obsession. Past devotion to this woman. I love her.
