“Anton, this isn’t right. I need to find out what’s going on. It might be important.”
He puts the cellphone in the safe and shuts the door. “What you need is to have faith that I will protect you. There are a lot of pieces to all this that you’re not aware of. You could accidentally trip things up for all of us by making a phone call to your friend.”
“How?” I say incredulously. “She’s not even a part of any of this. Who would she snitch to?”
“Anyone,” he says. “She might not be one of us, but she could easily decide to sell you out to the right person if given the right motivation. For all you know, she’s already done that if yourfather has spoken to her. He might be tracking you as we speak. And since you’re afraid to go back to him?—”
“All the more reason for me to find out what’s what. If he’s talked to her, then maybe she can clue me in?—”
“No deal,” he says. “The cellphone stays in the safe while you’re with me.”
That pisses me off. I glare at him. “Just because you don’t trust anybody doesn’t mean that I have to be the same way. Some people are reliable. Some people actually have your back.”
He glares at me, a fire burning behind his dark eyes. “You think I don’t know what loyalty is? Do you really want to talk tomeabout loyalty?”
His throwing that back at me does make me feel a little silly. He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m arguing with you about this. No cellphone. Not while all this is going on. You’ll get it back when you’re safe again. Got it?”
I clench my jaw, glaring at him angrily.
“Natalya.”
“I got it,” I tell him, walking away. “I’m going to sleep in my bedroom. You have a good night, Anton.”
I walk out, half expecting him to stop me. He doesn’t. He’s said his piece and I’ve said mine.
When I get to my bedroom, I realize I don’t even have the shirt I was sleeping in anymore. Guess I’ll sleep in this gigantic robe.
At least it stopped raining.
18
ANTON
The sun breaks in through my window and I’m up with the sun. Despite how little sleep I’ve gotten, I’m on my feet and ready for this day.
There’s a lot to be done still. My property and home are secure, but I need to check in on my businesses. I don’t know what the Amur will go after next now that Mikki has been attacked.
After Natalya left the room, he told me that the guy who attacked him gave him a message.Regards from Nikolai.The bastard is openly mocking me now. Instead of killing Mikki outright, he sent him back to me like a messenger. And attacking with a knife instead of a gun… it’s smart and precise. Mikki was meant to walk away from that attack.
I feel like he’s standing somewhere I can’t reach, laughing at me and waiting for me to make the next move so that he can use that opportunity to wipe us all out.
I’ve got to get ahead of this. I need to check in with the other brigadiers to get a lay of the land as it is. They know the parts that they are to play. They know where and whom to strike. I justneed to know how many of Nikolai’s properties, men, whatever are in the ground in comparison to us.
When my father was alive, he used to tell me about his time serving in Russia’s army during the First Chechen War. His stories always involved bombs and foxholes, tanks and regimens. What I’m dealing with is nowhere near as devastating. Still, winning this war is something that I hope he’d be proud of.
I shower and dress quickly. Nothing fancy today, a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck. I need to make a call to Iggy to see if he knows someone who can get large pools of blood out of couch (and probably the seats of Mikki’s car) upholstery. I’ll also need to have someone come over and unload the clothing from Mikki’s car so that Natalya will have something to wear.
I grab my phone from my nightstand and go to leave when it rings in my hand. I glance down at it. Vladimir Petrov’s name in bold letters flashes back at me. Great. I don’t need this today.
I answer it. “Hello?”
“Anton? How are you?”
Vladimir Petrov always has a smooth, calm voice when he’s speaking to his contemporaries. When I was just starting out as a brigadier, I’d hear some of the others call him the ‘whispering gentleman’. It’s been my experience that when they call someone a gentleman in my world, it usually means the opposite.
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “What can I do for you? I don’t imagine this is a casual call.”
“Well, I’m afraid not, my friend. My daughter has taken it upon herself to run off. I’m quite concerned about her. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her, have you?”
