Page 57 of The Bratva King

“What else?” I ask. “Does he need toys?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Ask him. I’d guess kids that age play with trucks and stuff. If you’re going to have him there, you need to childproof your home.”

“What the hell is that? The guns? I know I need to put them higher. Hide them better.”

“Nik, talk to her. She’ll know what you need to do. She knows her son. Yes, put the fucking guns away. Make sure your staff knows to close the pool gate. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him sticking his finger in an outlet.”

“Why the hell would he do that?”

Pasha laughs. “Talk to your new roomie.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

He nods. “Good. I’ll get the information on that property.”

“I want to go out there today if we can.”

“I’ll let you know.”

I turn back to the window.

He’s right to be worried about an escalation. I should probably take extra precautions at home. I would never forgive myself if something happened to Luke.

I’m halfway to the door when Pasha comes back through it.

I know before he opens his mouth. Five seconds ago, he was relaxed, easy, and thinking about Henderson and property files. Whatever changed happened between here and the hallway.

“What?”

He closes the door behind him and doesn’t sit. That tells me more than his face does. When Pasha doesn’t sit, he wants to be able to move.

“About Collins,” he says.

“Something came back from the search I already had running.”

I wait.

“The identity traces back to a real Gabriella Collins. Born in 1912. New Jersey.”

“Dead infant,” I say. “Whoever built her identity knew what they were doing.”

“The first employment history I can actually verify under Gabby Collins is Seattle. Before that, nothing. No record. No footprint. Like she didn’t exist.”

I nod. “Why didn’t our background check pick it up?”

“It’s a good ID. And you know we don’t dig that deep. If we did, half the staff would be gone. Shady isn’t a bad thing.”

“Did you find an ex-husband? Violent baby daddy?”

He chuckles. “No. But I don’t know who she is yet. How deep do you want me to dig? You know she’s hiding from something. If I dig deeper, I might trigger an alert.”

“She was afraid of the cops,” I say. “What if she’s a fugitive? It might have nothing to do with a dangerous ex.”

He considers that. “That makes sense. What do you think she did?”