The pieces fit together. Her skills and her training finally make sense. It explains why she managed to resist spilling her secrets when she was floating on truth serum.
The Belov Syndicate. Moscow’s most powerful bratva, kings in their city with reach that extends across Russia and beyond.
My father left Russia before they rose to power, focused on building the Baronov empire in the US while they consolidated control in Moscow. We know who they are. We know what they’re capable of, and we stay the fuck out of their way, just like they stay out of ours.
Maybe they’re making a play for New York and sent her as an advance scout to find the cracks in our foundation, but the second the thought crosses my mind, my gut rejects it.
If the Belov Syndicate wanted to take over New York, they wouldn’t do it quietly. They wouldn’t send a single hacker to infiltrate a club and play server for a few weeks. They’d come in force, make their intentions clear, establish dominance through strength and numbers. That’s their MO. That’s how they’ve held Moscow for decades.
Is she a spy working some angle I haven’t figured out yet? Is she working with the Ghost? Or is the story she told me under the influence real, that she’s a daughter searching for her mother?
The light turns green, and I gun it, cutting between lanes, pushing the bike hard until I pull up to her apartment. The door is open, voices carrying into the hallway.
It looks like a SWAT team went through this place. No stone left unturned is an understatement. Two tech guys are at the desk, one working on her laptop, the other going through drawers.
I move to the desk and pick up a coffee mug. Half-full, cold, lipstick stain on the rim. The same shade of red she wore on her lips when she gave me that mind-blowing lap dance. Who knew a hacker could move like that?
Miron joins me as I turn the mug over in my hands, studying the lipstick stain. “How did you ID her? She covered her tracks pretty well.”
“Fingerprints.” Miron leans against the desk. “We dusted everything in here, then ran her prints through every database we could hack into. A few years ago she got biometric clearance at some Swiss bank. Apparently they keep that shit on file and their security wasn’t as tight as they thought.”
I shrug. “Their fuck-up is our gain.”
One of the tech guys materializes at my shoulder with her laptop and phone.
I gesture at them. “Can you crack these?”
“We can try, but this is military-grade encryption.” He inspects the laptop. “If we force our way in and trip the wrong protocol, it’ll delete everything on here.”
“Do it anyhow. Look for anything that proves why she’s really here,” I say. “If she’s a spy, there’ll be orders, contacts, mission details. If she’s telling the truth about her mother, there’ll be research, names, leads she was following.”
“Boss, I found a second phone.” The other tech guy walks toward me, holding up a cheap flip phone. “It was taped under the shelf in the kitchen cabinet.”
I take it from him. It’s a simple burner that probably cost twenty bucks at a bodega. I open it and the screen lights up with a series of text messages from numbers with no names.
There’s no call history. No saved contacts. No photos or apps. Just a string of unread text messages that came in while she was at Spider’s apartment and then my penthouse. She never had a chance to check them.
The numbers mean nothing to me, but the content tells me everything.
Unknown 1: Dinochka, I forgot to tell you when we spoke earlier, we’re planning a visit at Christmas. Kin wants to meet the Ninja Turtles you told him about.
Unknown 2: If you can take a break from all your studies that is.
Unknown 3: Pavel is just licking his wounds that you’re no longer working for him.
Unknown 2: Hey! She said she’d come back after she graduates.
Unknown 3: OMG, let the girl enjoy her carefree and single life in the big apple.
Unknown 1: Well, not that carefree, she’s there to learn.
Unknown 2: Carefree and single. I don’t like it.
Unknown 3: Lighten up babe.
Unknown 1: Kin is already packing his bag. He told me the Turtles live in the sewers, and he wants to bring a flashlight.
Unknown 3: Please don’t let him actually go into the sewers, Dinara. I’m begging you.
