Ted knows all the details of Rebecca’s death. He’s one of the very few people who understands. “I can’t risk flushing him from the trap with too many visible men.”
Ted shakes his head. “I don’t like it.”
“Have medical on standby. And a helicopter on the roof waiting.”
“What are you going to do?” Ted asks. He learned a long time ago that his job is to move around me, not to dictate my moves.
“I’m going to make myself…available.” Which means, I’m going to enter empty spaces alone and see if I can’t make myself a juicy piece of…bait.
Like I said, the rules have changed.
And my little pawn must be protected at all costs.
I feel the pistol tucked in the waist of my trousers, under my jacket. It has to remain out of sight, I can’t have a guest calling the police.
Two security guards, dressed in street clothes, fan out behind me as I start for the row of currently unused banquet rooms.
They are all connected by access doors in their removable walls, and I walk through the rows of them, scanning behind stacks of waiting tables.
I’m nearing the end when I hear a rustling in the next room. Waitstaff?
But I slow my steps, listening.
The noise stops. If staff is setting up a room, it would likely get louder, not quieter.
Drawing a breath, I reach for my pistol, keeping it tucked at my side and then I slowly open the door to the next room.
“Come in, Your Grace,” Ivan calls from the other room. I’d recognize his voice anywhere.
One of my guards steps behind me, the other crouching down to peer through a crack between the panels.
Pulling the door the rest of the way open, I take a single step into the room.
Ivan stands in the center, flanked by two men.
My shoulders expand. It’s been ten years and my hate has only grown. “Ivan.”
“Winston.”
“You’re looking…” I scan my eyes down his face. “Older.”
“And you look as fresh as a daisy.” His lip curls. “My daughter treating you well?”
I don’t react, keeping my expression blank. “Are we here to discuss Katarina? I thought we might circle back to Rebecca.”
“Who?” He smirks at me, like he’s pleased with himself. His hair has gone completely gray and thin at the top, and he’s lost a great deal of mass, but he still looks like the powerful man he’s always been.
“You know who.” I was too young, too arrogant the first time we crossed. I’m neither now. Most would disagree and say that my conceit knows no bounds. But there is a difference between understanding your power and ruling with it. The first means you never apply more pressure than necessary. You always exercise control.
The second creates an ego that must always be fed.
That’s what Ivan has always been. A massive ego that needs to be fed.
His smile grows, “Still upset about that?” I don’t answer as he shrugs, continuing, “A man like you can have any woman he wants. Females are disposable to men like us. A lesson you should have learned ten years ago.”
My lip curls. He sickens me. “The lesson that I learned from you is that shortcuts are never shorter.”
He laughs then. “You’re wrong.”
