I can’t help but smirk. “No shit, genius. It’s tea, not vodka.”
Maksim fans his tongue, his eyes watering. “Fuck, I think I burned off my taste buds.”
“Good,” I grunt. “Maybe now you’ll shut up and give me the damn intel.”
Still grimacing, Maksim picks up the iPad. “You’re no fun, boss. No sense of culinary adventure.”
I lean forward, my patience wearing thin. “The only adventure I’m interested in is finding our little red mouse. Now, what’ve you got?”
Maksim’s fingers dance across the iPad, his smirk growing wider. “Patience, boss. Good things come to those who wait.”
“And broken noses come to those who don’t fucking hurry up,” I growl, my knuckles white around the mug.
He chuckles, turning the iPad toward me. “Easy there, tiger. Look at this.”
I lean in, scanning the screen. Tenant lists, security footage, utility bills—it’s all there. My eyes narrow as I spot a name that doesn’t fit.
“Clara Caldwell,” I mutter, the name tasting strange on my tongue.
Maksim nods, his expression turning serious. “Ring any bells?”
“Should it?”
He swipes to a new page, revealing a family tree. My breath catches as I spot a familiar name near the top.
“Maxwell Caldwell?” I breathe out.
“Bingo,” Maksim says, tapping the screen. “Our little red riding hood? She’s a Caldwell.”
My mind races, pieces clicking into place. The Caldwell family—once a powerhouse, now barely keeping their heads above water. I’d written them off years ago.
“What’s the connection?” I demand, leaning closer.
Maksim shrugs. “That’s the million-dollar question, boss. Far as we can tell, the Caldwells are circling the drain. Maxwell’s been MIA for months. Rumor has it, they’re on the verge of bankruptcy.”
I lean back, my tea forgotten. “So why the fuck is his daughter gunning for me?”
“Maybe Daddy Dearest owes you money?” Maksim suggests, his tone light but his eyes sharp.
I snort. “If he did, I’d remember.” My fingers drum against the table, mind whirling. “No, this is something else. Something personal.”
Maksim nods, closing the iPad. “So, what now, boss? We going in guns blazing or what?”
I stare out the window, watching the Eden Apartments. Somewhere in there, Clara Caldwell is probably thinking she’s won. Thinking she’s outsmarted the infamous Leonid Kuznetsov.
A slow, predatory grin spreads across my face.
“No,” I say, standing up.
“We’re going to play it smart. Shadow her for the next couple of days.”
“Really?” Maksim’s eyebrows shoot up. “Patience from the big bad wolf? Now that’s a surprise.”
I shoot him a glare. “Pizda. I want to see if our girl has any more tricks up her sleeve.”
I toss some bills on the table, more than enough for the untouched tea. “For now, let her sweat it out.”
As we head for the door, Maksim falls into step beside me. “You know,” he says, his voice low, “this is usually the part where you say something badass, and we ride off into the sunset.”
