Renz grinned at me sheepishly. “About that…”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t measure, I know. But just best estimates.”
One of his baristas called from the coffee bar.
“Will do.” He did the double-pointed finger at me. “Catch you later! Sam’s been asking about her aunt Lucy.”
“Aww… of course!” Once Kirill became less uptight with my recovery, I didn’t want him burdening everyone to follow his impossible standards of care.
Chloe sipped her mug of coffee. Despite the yumminess of the drink, I longed for my caffeine, but it seemed to spur my migraines. God, I hoped this wasn’t permanent. I would die without coffee.
“So, how are you holding up here?”
“I’m so thankful to your family. They’ve been amazing letting me live on the third floor…”
She let that hang, so I prodded, “But…?”
“But I have a life I need to get back to…or rather rebuild. Trevor said you guys specialize in new identities.”
“We do, but are you sure? Aren’t you tired of running?”
Chloe averted her gaze. “Yes. But I can’t be in Manhattan.”
I didn’t want to press her. It was obvious she didn’t want to be anywhere near the bratva. I was certain it was for the best since Chloe and her mother were a touchy subject between Ivan and Irina. Meanwhile, a nagging, impenetrable haze around a memory was trying to break free from my head. And it had to do with Trevor. But what the hell was it? Also, Kirill seemed to morph from impassive to murderous every time Trevor’s name was mentioned. I got it; he was jealous before, but he seemed irrationally so lately.
“Trevor is helping me piece together my mother’s disappearance, but so far all he’s dug up was information Bruce already told me. She didn’t report to the restaurant where she worked and simply disappeared. Bruce even paid for her apartment for six months, hoping maybe she’d turn up. But she didn’t take anything with her. Finally, he had it all packed up and moved to storage.”
“Were those the boxes in the cabin?”
“No, they’re in storage somewhere in Florida where she moved.”
“You don’t have anything from your mother?”
“Just some pictures and jewelry. I just want to put this behind me,” Chloe said. “I’m so glad you reached out, though. I see nothing on the news, but Trevor told me that Jeremiah is sniffing around Aralina.”
I smiled grimly. “He didn’t waste time, that’s for sure.” I didn’t have time to question Aralina about her relationship yet. She visited me frequently with Irina. And I’d only gotten more verbal in the last week or so.
“I’m surprised Ivan approves of them together.” A trace of bitterness coated Chloe's tone. I likened it to the way Mamma reacted when my grandfather withheld his affection from her after she’d married Dad.
“Four percent shares,” I reminded. “You could throw a spanner into those plans, you know.”
We continued to chat about Chloe and what she remembered about Renée. I didn’t know why I was associating Trevor’s name with it. Wait, I wanted him to dig into something. My head started to hurt. The last task I had Trevor do was find Chloe, right? But prior to that, I wanted him to look into another case I was piecing together. Wait, maybe it was after? Was it after?
Ivan’s office. The scattered papers. It was about the Zahkarovs and the Kings.
My mental acrobatics jolted to a halt when I felt Chloe freeze. Even when she was across from me in the booth, the way her face turned white was perceptible. And whatever she was staring at beyond my shoulder was the reason for it.
I’d forbidden Sato and my bodyguards from coming into the café because I didn’t want to spook Chloe. She seemed inexplicably cagey whenever the bratva was mentioned. Did she think Kirill would order a hit on her because she aimed a shotgun at him? Trevor mentioned he still couldn’t place Chloe's whereabouts eight months prior to her move to Pennsylvania. She might be hiding from people other than the bratva. That was the reason I let her take the seat that had the vantage point to see the entire café so she’d be more comfortable. According to Trevor, she hardly left the third floor and never left The Grindhouse premises. Poor thing.
I shifted in my seat to see what had Chloe freaking out about and felt the blood drain from my face.
I’d been expecting to see Kirill, but striding toward us was Theodore King.
Chloe. Oh no.
The older King looked nothing like his younger brother. Even when they had the same coloring of dark hair and tanned skin, Theodore was taller and bulkier. The expensive threadsof his Armani suit couldn’t hide his built frame. Like a man who worked as a lumberjack instead of spending his time in boardrooms. Jeremiah was leaner and was flexible with the way he wanted to project himself, from serious to easy charm. Meanwhile, with the older King, even with his clean-shaven face, I couldn’t imagine a warm smile cracking the harsh angles of his face.
I was going to text Sato, but he’d already walked into the café.
