“I’m not armed,” I announced quickly, holding up my hands so he could see.
The photo slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the ground between us. He stared at it for a beat before returning his gaze to me.
Up close, his eyes were darker than I’d expected. Cold. Calculating. The eyes of a man who’d order someone’s death with the same ambivalence he did his morning coffee.
“Who are you?” he demanded, tightening his grip on the gun. “And how did you get this?”
“My name is Henry Fontaine. I own a cybersecurity firm. In other words, I’m an expert at finding digital files people think or claim are gone. Like the video from the port the night your father was killed. I thought you should know the truth. As you can see, Los Reyes del Puerto wasn’t responsible.”
He glowered at the photo by his feet for several long moments, his jaw tightening and nostrils flaring in rage.
“Pick it up,” he ordered, nodding at the photo.
I crouched slowly, keeping my eyes trained on him and my hands where he could see them. Then I handed it to him.
“It’s a still from the port security footage,” I explained.
“They said it was corrupted,” Mikhail argued.
“It wasn’t.”
He studied the image of Nikolai Volkov pointing a gun at Alexei, his own guards holding him in place.
“I have the full video, too. You’ll find that no members of Los Reyes are visible for even a second prior to the shooting.”
His expression didn’t waver, but something shifted behind his eyes. Something dark and unforgiving.
“Why should I believe you? You admitted you’re some sort of hacker. You could have manipulated these photos.”
“I prefer the term cybersecurity expert. And I have no reason to lie to you. I think the reason you’re so upset is because I just confirmed something you’ve suspected all along but couldn’t prove… Until now.”
He advanced on me, but I didn’t back up. “Why are you here? Why are you giving me this?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Because I need some information from you.”
“Information? What kind of information?”
“About your…association with Victor Kane.”
He loosened his grip on his gun, the nozzle no longer pointed directly at me. “My organization no longer has any sort of relationship with Victor Kane. We cut ties years ago. After my father’s death, in fact.”
I arched a single brow. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course, I am. I didn’t agree with Victor’s…business practices.”
“You mean selling women,” I responded.
He gave a slight nod. “Exactly.”
“It seems not everyone in your organization got the memo.”
I started to reach into my coat pocket once more, but he snapped his gun back up, this time aiming it directly at my forehead.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Do you want to get it?” I offered. “It’s another photo. My left coat pocket.”
He held the gun steady with one hand as he stepped close enough so I could smell leather and expensive cologne, along with something metallic beneath it. He reached into my coat and removed the second photo himself.
