“I’ll explain in the car.” He nods to a man I recognize as one of his security team, who appears seemingly out of nowhere. “Get the car. We’re leaving.”
“Yes, sir.”
People are starting to stare as we cut through the crowd. I can feel their eyes on us, and the whispers start up again. But Menlow doesn’t slow down.
“Menlow, talk to me. Who was that man?”
“Not here.”
We push through the doors and into the cool night. The car is already waiting, engine running. Menlow opens the back door and practically shoves me inside before sliding in after me.
“Go,” he tells the driver. “Now.”
The car pulls away from the curb so fast I’m thrown back against the seat. I scramble for my seatbelt while Menlow pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously.
“Menlow. Tell me what’s going on.”
He finishes his message and looks at me. His face is grim.
“The man you described. The ring, the accent, the mention of Vasiliev. I think he’s Oleg Volkov’s cousin, Jovan. One of his right-hand men.”
My blood runs cold. “Volkov? As in the Volkovs, who had people threatening me?”
“The very same.”
“But how did he get in? Wasn’t there a guest list? Security?”
“He must have used a fake name. Or he came as someone’s plus-one.” Menlow runs a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter how he got in. What matters is that he was there. And he made contact with you.”
“He just made small talk. He didn’t threaten me or anything.”
“He didn’t need to. The fact that he approached you at all is a message.” Menlow curls his hands into fists on his thighs. “They wanted us to know they can get close to you. To us. Whenever they want.”
I think about the man’s parting words.I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again.
“He said we’d see each other again,” I tell Menlow. “I thought it was just a pleasantry, but…”
“It wasn’t.” Menlow reaches over and takes my hand. “We need to get home. And we need to figure out what they’re planning before they make their next move.”
The city lights streak past the window as we speed through the streets. I squeeze Menlow’s hand and try to calm my racing heart.
So much for a nice evening out.
Chapter 20 - Menlow
The second we pull away from the venue, I know something is wrong.
Call it instinct. Call it paranoia. Call it years of surviving in a world where trust gets you killed. But the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up, and my gut is screaming at me to pay attention.
I pull out my phone and dial Pavel.
“Brother,” he answers on the second ring. “How was the gala?”
“We have a problem. Jovan Volkov was there tonight. He approached Kirsten.”
Pavel swears in Russian. “Oleg’s cousin? Are you sure?”
“Gold ring with a crest. Slight accent. Mentioned the Vasiliev acquisition specifically. It was him.”
