Page 40 of Ruined By Sin

Icycle through the security cameras on the monitors one at a time from the booth above the gym floor, tapping the toggle on my console to switch angles. The ring's lit up below and two middleweights are going at each other in their third round. The crowd is a bit raucous tonight, though from up in my perch, I can't hear a damn thing if I don't want to and I have that feature muted.

I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes, tired after such a long week. I'm still reeling over dinner with Kira and how incredible she is. Morin keeps trying to warn me not to let her get in my head, but for now, she's the only one I've let in my head. Everything about her has me so tangled up in my emotions and thoughts of what the future may hold for us, I'm barely doing anything else.

But Kazimir's warning about keeping my feet on the ground still circles back every now and then. With my eyes on the monitor, watching for threats, I pick up my phone and dial Stepan's number. I haven't heard from him about those photos, andtonight's a slow night. Sitting up here alone is boring, and I could use the distraction.

"Tim, I was gonna call you." Stepan sounds winded, like he's been working out or running.

"Where are we on those photos of Kirianna Belova?" Picking up my coffee, I sip the black bitter brew and hear him suck in a few deep breaths. I hear some shouting behind him and figure he's in a gym, and miss those days I used to sit watching him spar with Kaz, before the family started expanding and Stepan went out on the road.

"Marina's got them, buddy. We'll send them to you via email tonight. It was a nightmare getting anyone to cough things up. Sergei's obnoxious." He chuckles, and I hear something scrape over the phone's mic.

"Tonight when? I'm at the fights. I'd like them before I go home." I see movement on the camera that I'm not fond of, a man looking frightened and looking around like he's searching for someone or something.

"Within the hour. She's formatting them now. You'll have them. What's the rush?"

"No rush, really," I say, half distracted by the images on the screen now, but still, nothing is overly alarming. “I just want to get Kaz off my back. He's being a nag after everything we put him through with Zora." I chuckle, and Stepan laughs too. He was party to all the nonsense when our family almost got taken out by a mole.

"Yeah, well, I'll be home soon and I'll take care of him. We'll get 'em to you. Look, I gotta run. We'll talk later?"

"That's okay. I might have a situation..." My voice is trailing off again even as I hear the call end and the line go dead.

I hang up and set the phone down, watching Kazimir move through the crowd near the VIP tables. He stops at one of them and leans down to talk to someone and their body language isn't great. Kaz has his hands up, palms out, like he's trying to calm someone down. Whoever he's talking to is gesturing hard, jabbing a finger at the table. Just another shred of evidence that Federov's weaselly ways are affecting people.

But the man standing near the locker room doors doesn't belong there. His hunched shoulders and frantic glances look suspicious. He's either afraid of something or he's up to no good. Either way, he's caught my attention.

I zoom the camera in and the image gets grainier. I can't see perfectly clear, but I can see he's shaking, and his coat is zipped up all the way. In fact, it appears that something under that coat is bulging, like he's got pillows stuffed in there, or he's wearing extra layers. It's not right, and it's raising red flags for me.

So I key the comms. "Kaz."

There's a moment of static before Kazimir's voice comes over the com unit. "Little busy, Tim."

"I have a man near the locker room entrance looking flighty. He's not right. Something's going on."

"I've got Federov's cousin in my face right now threatening to pull his action over a payout discrepancy. Can it wait two minutes?"

"No." The man is getting fidgety, tapping his foot, running his hand through his hair. "You gotta go now."

"Then send someone."

There's no one. Yegor and Radimir are off with Roman tonight, and with Dryden at the house with Kira, Morin out hunting Mirovs, and Rostik still hurt, we are down too many men. The others have to man their stations or we end up leaving an opening, which can't happen.

I grab my earpiece and my sidearm from the desk drawer as I stand. "I'm going down myself. Keep your comms open."

"Tim, don't?—"

But I'm already out the door.

I don't like leaving my post, and I don’t like using this weapon in my hand, but my gut usually isn't wrong about things. I've held to my assertion that Kira is telling me the truth so long that it's become annoying to hear my family fact checking me. So when my gut screams that the man I saw on the cameras is off, I listen.

The crowd throngs around me, making it hard to squeeze through them, especially when the fighters really start going at it. I have to wedge myself in between them and the wall, and by the time I get to where the man was standing, he's not there anymore.

But up the hallway I see a dark jacket swaying from side to side. His crop of shaggy dark hair flings around as he glances over his shoulder, and I confirm the same face that I saw on the monitor. Raising my weapon, I shout, "Stop now or I'll shoot."

The man whips around and has both hands up, but there's something clutched in his right hand—the trigger for a bomb.Oh, shit...

"Don't move," I tell him. "Hands where I can see them."

"Please," he says. His eyes are wet and red and darting everywhere. "Please, I don't want to do this." He looks strung out, meth maybe, and he reeks of marijuana and body odor, and I'm still several yards away from him. I glance over my shoulder and see we're mostly alone, but I see Kazimir coming toward the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms.