“They moved in before us,” Dem finishes. “In the time it took us to get here.”
Motherfucker.
“We can’t keep doing this alone.” I turn to face my brothers. “We need to unite with the other families. If we keep fighting separate wars, we’re all going to lose.”
Matvey drags a hand over his face. “You want to bring Elio back in? After the fuck-up with the heroin drop?”
“I want to bring everyone in. Elio, the Irish, the Triad, whoever else is bleeding from this Ghost. If we keep working in silos, we’re all going to lose.”
This won’t be an easy union. Elio’s still pissed about the pier, and the other families don’t trust us any more than we trust them. But the alternative is worse.
“That’s a big ask.” Dem lights another cigarette, the flame lighting up his face. “These families have been at each other’s throats for decades.”
“And now there’s something worse at all of our throats. They’ll see reason or die stupid. Their choice.”
My mind drifts to Evelina. She has the kind of technical expertise we need to bypass the Ghost’s digital traps and build a security system no one can penetrate.
“First thing,” I say, pushing thoughts of her aside, “we recover what we can from Konstantin’s hardware. Then we start making calls.”
The sun cracks the horizon, spilling pale gold across the water. Another day gone, another coin in my pocket.
I’m running out of time.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
DINARA
I’m applyinga final swipe of lipstick when the change room door swings open and Oksana walks in, her expression serious in a way that immediately puts me on alert.
She closes the door behind her. “I have not-so-great news.”
I turn around. “What’s wrong?”
She crosses her arms, tapping her foot like she’s trying to figure out how to phrase what she’s about to say. “Ruslan Baronov requested you to serve at his private poker game tonight.”
My stomach drops as I absorb her words. “Really? Why me?”
Oksana’s eyebrows pull together. “I’d like to know that myself. How does he even know who you are?”
“I bumped into him in the hallway on my first shift. We had a brief conversation, but honestly it was nothing. I didn’t think he’d remember me. I thought he was still in Russia.”
Oksana blows out a heavy breath. “Well, he's back and he remembers you all right. It’s not like Ruslan to care about who serves at his games. Maybe you … caught his attention.”
“Maybe,” I admit. Unease curls through me as I think about what that means.
When we met in the hallway, he was professional, no creepy vibes, but there’s a reason he requested me specifically, and I’m about to find out what it is.
Still, as unsettling as this is, I can’t ignore the opportunity staring me in the face.
Since my dream, I’ve spent countless hours trying to dig up anything on the Voronins, their business dealings, their associates, surviving members who might know what really happened, but these secrets are buried too deep to find from behind a screen.
Stalled out, frustrated, no closer to finding my mother than I was the day I landed in New York. This might be the first real opening I’ve had.
Oksana pinches the bridge of her nose. “Listen, I don’t know much about Ruslan’s associates, but they’re old-school bratva types. The kind who think female staff are part of the entertainment. Just … don’t let your guard down.”
I touch her arm, grateful for the concern. “Thank you for the warning, but don’t worry, I’m tougher than I look. And hey, he’s the big boss. If he wants me to work his game, I better work his game. It’s just serving drinks, right? I can handle that.”
