“So, all that bullshit about peace with us was a lie?” I asked rhetorically.
Maxim nodded. “But you know, we were always suspicious of that.”
Sergei chuckled ruefully. “He is patient. To lie in wait for years like that. I’ve heard of stranger things.”
“And with Marguerite, he covered his tracks well, I have to admit,” Maxim said.
Kael nodded. “The more I looked and politely asked questions, I found it wasn’t really a partnership.”
Maxim leaned forward slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Marguerite thinks she's working with Nikolai,” Kael said.
“Shethoughtthat,” I corrected.
Kael acknowledged my words with a nod. “Nikolai had no intention of honoring any agreement. He never did. She was simply part one of a multipart operation.”
“She was a brilliant woman. He must have talked a good game to fool her.”
“Or her feelings about Chauncey got in the way,” I said, thinking about what Theory had said: “Targen… they don’t care if they win or survive, especially not right now. They just want revenge.”
“The best I can tell, he planned to come at the three of you differently. He started with Targen through Theory. But Maxim, I think I see the plans he was lying down for you. But we don’t have time for that right now. I found out something interesting about his current location.”
“And where is he now?” Sergei asked.
Kael's eyes shifted toward him. “Port Isle.”
My jaw tightened. Across the screen, Maxim's eyes narrowed. “Are you certain?”
“Completely. I have confirmation.”
Port Isle.
Of all the places in the world, Nikolai Sokolov had chosen to be here, right now? There was no such thing as coincidence. Sergei had drilled that into us. I was going to have to increase the detail around Theory until we could leave this island. Party be damned, I was taking my wife home.
My phone buzzed then, and I looked down.Theory. I smiled as I opened the message.
“Going in. I love you.”
I typed the sentiment back, not realizing how hard I was smiling until Maxim said, “I presume that is your lovely wife.”
“Yeah. She and Pip are going to meet a neighbor, then Mama.”
The words left my mouth before I thought about them. Suddenly, I went still. What did I really know about this damn neighbor? I swiveled toward my father.
“Papa, have you talked to the Kozlovs this summer? Who’s staying at their place?” I asked.
He stiffened, glanced at my brother then me.
“What?” I demanded.
Finally, he spoke. “The Kozlov estate is empty.”
The office suddenly felt hot. “What?”
“It hasn't had guests in months. Abram Kozlov has cancer.”
I stared at him. Then shook my head.
