“I don’t know—” she sobs. “I don’t know how I let it go this far!”
I set the mugs down on the coffee table before wrapping my arms around her again.
“It’s okay.” I try to be strong, because I can’t afford to lose it too. No matter how badly I want to. “You don’t have to say any more. It’s going to be okay.”
“He was going on about people laughing at him. That he’s a joke and no one respects him even though he’s in power. And that he’s going to show them all, whatever that means. I didn’t want him touching me when he’s in that kind of mood, so I pretty much told him to fuck off. And that’s when he…” she trails off. I hold her tighter and she goes on. “I was able to grab my purse and lock myself in the bathroom, and there’s this tiny window in there. I’m lucky my hips fit through.” She gives a shaky exhale. “After that, I drove here. Pretty sure I ran every light. And then, when I realized I couldn’t get through the gate, I climbed it.”
“Jesus.” I lose the battle and start sniffling softly into her hair.
“I’m just worried he followed me,” she says, pulling away to wipe her nose again. “I swear I saw him in the rearview mirror.”
“Well, you’re safe here.” I pick up our teas again and hand her a mug. “Even if he climbed the walls, a million alarms would go off if he came onto the property, and this place is crawling with security guards.”
“You’re not going to make me leave? Or call the cops?” she asks into her tea.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because Ransome is going to have a fit when he finds out you let me in.”
I thought about that. Ransome has never been a fan of Electra. And if he knew that some psychopathic abusive loose cannonwas chasing after her and she led him there, he’d really lose his shit.
But I don’t care. Electra is my best friend and he is just going to have to deal with it… when I decide to tell him.
48
RANSOME
“Where did you find Igor?”
I make my way into the warehouse. Lights turn as we make our way through the corridor. Production has come to a screeching halt thanks to Tristan intercepting our trucks, which are sitting empty in the open room. The whole place is a ghost town. You could send dogs in and they wouldn’t even bark.
Damon stays in step with me. “It wasn’t hard, honestly. Even though everyone Tristan hired is staying pretty low, Igor hits Foxy’s All Nude BYOB almost every night. My guy Jameson was able to snag him within hours.”
“That tracks,” I say as we round the corner. We’re headed for one of the side rooms. It’s a ten by ten with nothing but a single chair cemented to the middle and a small table against the wall. On the table is a surgical kit, among other devices including woodworking and gardening tools.
“Why did you want him specifically?” Damon asks.
“I was tipped off that he might be the easiest to crack of all the guys working closely with Tristan.”
“Easier than one of the cons he scooped up from the jailbreak?” he asks with a small, amused smile. It’s almost funny how much Damon enjoys this shit. He’s a cop. Head of the NYPD, to be exact. And while he does the good work in the eye of the city, he’s nothing short of diabolical when it comes from working with the Bratva.
Some say it’s the money. Paying off a small army to work on our side while keeping their mouths shut is not cheap. But I think it’s that Damon comes from a long line of chiefs who have been working with us. At the same time that he took his oath to protect the city, he was also secretly vowing loyalty to the Rozanov family. I guess it’s true what they say: everyone, no matter how good, sells at least a little bit of themselves to the devil.
We stop outside the door and peer in through the small square window. Maverick and Barons are standing over Igor who is chained to the chair, a bag over his head. From the way he’s sweating and shaking, I assume he knows he’s in a bad spot. Knowing Maverick, he’s already fucked with him a bit too.
“He knows Tristan,” I tell Damon. “He’s been loyal to him for a while. Long enough that Tristan probably has loose lips around him. He’ll be able to tell us not only what Tristan’s doing now, but what his plan is in its entirety.”
“Hmm.” Damon thinks about that. “How did you know he was your guy?”
“Jenica,” I say.
“And you don’t think that’s a trap?” Damon asks with an arched eyebrow.
It’s not an unfair question. God knows I’ve asked myself the same thing. But no matter how bad our relationship has been in the past, Jenica and I work better as allies than we ever did as spouses. Getting our marriage out of the way actually eased us into arealtruce.
Besides, she’s better off without Tristan in the picture too. “I think Jenica is trying to escape a trap of her own.”
I open the door. Damon and I walk in.
