Page 58 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

His head drops but he mumbles, "I don't know the man's name. He was Afghani... I bribed him and..."

Fucking despicable. He's talking about Farid, I can tell.

This fucker got in my source’s head and paid him off to get intel to take me down.

My blood curdles.

And to think I mourned that sick bastard too, paid for his wife to be relocated. And now this?

"And you sold that information?" I ask calmly as pieces start to fall into place. Farid sold information to Rostov who passed it on to Gusev, and that's how things got compromised. I can makechanges to adjust, but that won't get my product back, and it likely means a war to reestablish myself.

"I had to," he slurs. I can barely make out the words. "Gusev was going to kill me. He was going to kill my daughter and my grandson if I didn't give him something, and your routes were the only thing I had that was worth anything to him."

"What did you give him?" I demand. "My schedules? My truck rotations?"

"I gave him what I had, okay?" He won't look at me. He stares at the carpet between his feet and sways back in the chair like he's going to be sick. "I just wanted to protect my family."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

He raises his head and I can see he's barely holding on. His pupils are blown wide and unfocused and the skin around his mouth is crusted with dried blood. He smells like he crawled out of a bottle and slept in a gutter, which probably isn't far from the truth.

"But you have to help me," he says. "Krasnov, please, they took my daughter."

"I didn't bring you here to help you. You ratted on me."

"I know, I know, but Emory's out there somewhere and I think Gusev took her," he says, now sobbing. He lurches forward, gripping fistfuls of my shirt in desperation. "She has a little boy, Krasnov. He's only eighteen months old and those men have them and I don't know where."

This man is a coward, and a worm, but he loves his family. I know the feeling of wanting to protect what's yours, but I'd killmen for touching me like this. I eye Devid, and he and Igor come over and plant the old drunk back in his chair as I step away.

"What did you give Gusev besides my routes?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "I don't know. I can't remember. I can't think right now." He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes and trembles.

"Try," I order angrily. Any other time and this would be a far different scenario. Devid is probably wondering why I haven’t cut off his fingers yet or gutted him.

"There were contacts maybe," he slurs again. "Men at the port. Customs, I think. And someone in the harbormaster's office." He breathes shakily and mops his face up then pleads with me again. "Please, my daughter. He has her and?—"

"How many contacts?"

"I don't... two maybe. Or three. I set things up for them but it was months ago and I was drinking through most of it." I'm getting to the end of what I can drag out of him. The man is spent, and half-gone. "I can give you more if you let me think. If you let me sleep for a few hours and eat something I can remember the names and the schedules."

Devid catches my eye from across the room; the expression he gives me tells me he thinks I'm going soft, but this man has information I know will be useful. I have to keep him around for more than just the fact that I gave my word to a woman.

As much as I want to backhand him and force the intel out of his mouth, I'm not sure how successful I'll be. He needs to sleep and sober up, and he needs to know his daughter is in good hands or he'll be a blubbering mess the whole time anyway.

"Take him downstairs," I tell Devid. "Put him in the basement room and lock it. Give him water and something for his face but nothing else. No phone and no visitors until I say otherwise."

Devid glowers at me as he hauls Oleg up by the collar. The old man's legs give out and the guards have to drag him. And the whole way down the hall, he calls out Emory's name, pleading with me to find her and make her safe.

I sit down and run a hand through my hair; the old man is useless tonight but if he sobers up and his memory comes back he could hand me the keys to Gusev's entire operation. And if I keep him alive and under my roof, Emory has no reason to run. Her father is here, her son is here, and she has nowhere else to go.

But the fact remains that he exposed me to my enemies.

His debt to me is greater than any debt he may ever have to Gusev.

If Emory thinks for one second that I might truly punish the old man for what he's done, she'll try to take my son and run.

It's a fine line, and I have to walk it carefully.