That’s a reasonable enough explanation.
The door opened, and Sergei walked in, his boots heavy on the floor. “Boss.”
My eyes fell on him.
“It’s done,” he said. “She’s secured in the guest room as you requested.”
Good.
I didn’t want her in a cell or in my basement. Not sure why I thought she deserved better than those places. But perhaps it had something to do with this newfound respect for her fiery spirit.
I looked at the two injured before me and said casually, “You’re dismissed.”
They dematerialized immediately, leaving my lieutenant and me behind.
As the door closed behind them, Sergei met my gaze, his expression blank as usual. “Permission to speak about the girl.”
I reclined in my chair, swirling the glass in my hand. “Go ahead.”
“I think you should tread carefully with this one, boss,” he said. “Something about her feels—”
“Different?” I cut him off.
He paused. “I was going to say dangerous.”
I didn’t respond immediately; instead, I curled my lips into a mischievous smirk.
“Five minutes ago, she raked her fingernails across a man’s face, almost taking out his eye,” he added, a hint of displeasure lacing his tone. “It’s either she’s tougher than we give her credit for. Or she’s figured out that we don’t hit women,and she’s weaponizing that fact. Either way, that makes her dangerous.”
“Which of the guest rooms did you lock her up in?” I asked.
“The smallest one. Upstairs. Third door on your left.”
Without another word, I got out of my chair, downed the rest of my whiskey, and headed out. My measured footsteps echoed off the walls as I made my way to her room, one hand in my pocket.
I stood outside her door for a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside. She stopped pacing when she spotted me. Her expression darkened, masking the fear flickering behind her gaze.
She was still in her white nightgown, the silk fabric accentuating her soft curves. Her pale skin glowed under the chandelier’s warm light, her eyes shining with a mix of defiance and fear.
She stood on the other side of the bed, fists clenched at her sides as she watched me approach. Her chest rose and fell subtly, her gaze unwavering.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice a bit shaky. “I know you’re the man from the restaurant the other night. But if you’re gonna kidnap me and lock me up here, you might as well tell me who you are.”
I halted at least a foot away from her, intrigued by her spunk. “You’re in no position to ask me questions…Miss Hendy.”
“This is about the Vetrov case, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Tell me….” I paused, watching her lock her jaw. “Who gave you the file?”
“No one.”
“Don’t play games with me, girl.”
“I’m not,” she replied. “It was a publicly available case. I accessed it through the university’s legal reform archives.”
A pause.
“That answers how. Not who.”
