Page 62 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

"I haven't slept," he grumbles in a gravelly voice. I see the fatigue in his eyes, and I see a faint resemblance to Emory too. She looks like him.

“Hmmm, at least you're sobering up." I study him for a moment, and unbutton my suit coat, getting comfortable. "You know why I'm here."

"You want information."

"I want to know what Gusev's doing with my shipments. I want to know where his men are operating and what they're planning to do along my routes. And I want you to give me a reason to keep feeding you instead of turning you over to the men who want to kill you for your thievery."

Oleg rubs his face with both hands and lets out a long breath. "I don't have what you're looking for, Krasnov." He's much sharper now that he's not drunk, though the hangover has him squinting. I bet his head is pounding—too bad I don’t have a metal drum right now.

"That's a dangerous thing to say to me right now," I tell him, and I let him feel every bit of the threat in that sentence.

"It's the truth." He drops his hands into his lap and looks at me with resignation—or maybe it's the last stage of fear before he stops caring altogether. "I was a middleman. I passed along what I was told to pass along and I collected what they paid me. I never saw the shipments. I don't know where they went or what was in them or who's handling them now. I just told them what the Afghani contact told me."

"Then what good are you to me, Oleg?" Leaning forward, I steeple my fingers and narrow my eyes at him. He hasto understand he's a bargaining chip, and he's not worth bargaining with if he has nothing to offer.

"I don't know," he says quietly, making my gut churn. I think I actually believe him, which isn't good for either of us. "I don't know what good I am to anyone anymore."

I lean back in the chair and look up at Devid, who raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The old man is an open book, and the book is empty.

He gave everything he had to Gusev and kept nothing for himself, not even enough information to bargain his way out of a basement. He's useless to me as an intelligence source and he knows it, and that knowledge is eating him alive because it means there's nothing standing between him and whatever I decide to do next.

And a man with nothing left to lose is a dangerous man.

"You told me you'd cooperate," I say. "You told me you'd give me everything."

"I gave you everything I have. It's just not as much as either of us hoped it would be."

"If I find out you're holding something back from me," I tell him, leaning forward until he can feel my breath on his face, "I will let Devid take you apart piece by piece."

"I'm not holding anything back," he says, and his voice cracks.

"What about Gusev," I ask. "What can you tell me about his operation?"

And just like that the heavens open. It turns out I've been asking the wrong questions entirely. Oleg Rostov doesn't know whatGusev plans to do with my shipments, but he does know how Gusev runs his businesses. He's an open book, giving me detail after detail of Gusev’s operations until he looks winded and ready to pass out.

"And you're sure this information will check out?" I lift an eyebrow skeptically, typing into my phone frantically. I'll have to have men check this out to be sure, but if what he's telling me is good, I'll be able to tear the Gusev organization apart thread by thread.

"I swear," he says, raising his hands in surrender. "On my daughter's life. Now?—"

Oleg looks ready to barter when the door at the top of the stairs slams open, and Emory comes charging down the stairs with Krispin hot on her trail.

"Let me see my father you fucking animal!" she snarls, as Krispin tries and fails to grab her.

"Sorry, boss," he mumbles, stumbling after her. Her eyes land on her bruised father and she gasps in shock.

"Get her out of here," I tell Devid, but she runs right to her father, dropping to her knees in front of the cot and taking her father's hands in both of hers.

"Batya, are you okay? What did they do to you?" She clings to him, touching his face gently and checking him for wounds. It's such nurturing contact it's surprising to me. I've only seen the party girl and the vehement mother, never this, and it's almost making me jealous. Not once in my life have I had someone fawn over me with such care, not even my own fucking mother.

Is that what love in action looks like?

I slowly stand up and button my coat, but she won't budge from where she's at, even when Devid tries prying her off the old man, so I motion for him to step back. Krispin retreats up the steps wisely, and Devid and I stand over them waiting.

Oleg's eyes well up with tears he doesn't try to stop, and he pulls her into his arms. "Emory," he chokes out. "You're alive. I thought they killed you. I thought Gusev took you and the boy and I was never going to see you again."

"I'm right here, Batya. Lex is upstairs and he's safe. We're both safe." She cradles his cheeks then kisses them several times, and he mirrors her actions.

He cups her face in both hands, turning it side to side, checking her the way you check a child after a fall. "Nobody hurt you?" Then his eyes flick up to me with skepticism, as if trying to discern how I got ahold of his daughter so quickly. He still doesn't know?"