He hums low in his throat. That’s it. No praise. No smile. Just that sound, like approval’s too costly to give out freely.
I swallow my irritation and return to the report. If he wants cold professionalism, fine. I’ll out-professional him into next week.
Still, I can’t help myself. I peek at him again, as inconspicuously as possible. His jaw is tight, eyes narrowed at whatever file he’s reviewing. He’s completely unreadable.
I have no idea what his game is. Why me? Why this job? Is it about my parents? Or is it something else entirely?
The door opens.
Lev Ivanov enters like a wrecking ball—massive and broad-shouldered, with a jaw that looks like it’s seen more fists than smiles. He doesn’t glance at me. Doesn’t have to. I can feel the shift in the room’s gravity the moment he steps in.
Right behind him is Alexei—taller, leaner, but no less dangerous. I’d met him earlier today. Where Lev is brute force, Alexei is precision.
Yuri doesn’t look up from his laptop. He simply gestures with his chin to the seating area near the far window. “Close the door.”
Alexei shuts it behind him with a muted click.
To my surprise, they don’t tell me to leave.
I keep my eyes on my screen, fingers hovering over the track pad like I’m not cataloging every glance, every word. Let them underestimate me. It’ll work to my advantage in the long run.
Lev’s voice cuts through the silence. “Spalding wasn’t just sniffing around. He’s preparing for something. This is about more than just spooking us.”
Alexei drops into the armchair across from Yuri. “Felt like a pressure check to me.”
Yuri nods once, finally looking up. “He’s not just here for oversight anymore. Someone’s feeding him intel, giving him something to work with.”
My heart skips. Spalding. Intel. Feeding.
Lev leans forward, his voice dropping. “Christian De la Rosa.”
Yuri’s expression doesn’t change, but Alexei snorts softly. “He’s back?”
Lev nods. “Been hearing reports of him being sighted in the city.”
Alexei shakes his head, his tone full of disdain. “De la Rosa wouldn’t talk to the Feds.”
“You kidding?” Lev asks. “That dishonorable prick would do anything to save his own skin.”
My fingers still. De la Rosa. I’ve seen that name. In my notes. In the Devereaux files. In the police reports that never quite made sense.
Christian De la Rosa. Cartel leader, arms broker, information runner, one-time associate of my father… and the last person seen with him before he died.
I focus on the spreadsheet again, but it’s nothing but a blur of cells and color coding at this point. The blood’s rushing in my ears now.
“Spalding’s poking around Devereaux again,” Lev adds, and I resist the urge to flinch.
Devereaux? What the hell is going on? Do they know who I really am? Do they want me to overhear this? Is that why they didn’t kick me out of the office?
Alexei leans back. “What for? That case is colder than Siberia in February.”
“Still stinks,” Yuri says. “Too many loose ends.”
Alexei grunts. “Like the girl your old man kept tabs on. What was her name, the one from Sorbonne?”
My breath catches. My mother. He’s talking about my mother.
Yuri’s gaze lifts long enough to meet mine. There’s no surprise on his face.
