Page 11

He lifted one finger.

Apparently even Maksim could be told to wait if the situation called for it.

Roman pushed to his feet, leaned forward to grip the arms of my chair, the coldness in him radiating out and making my breath freeze in my chest. “If you left before sunrise…who stole our money?”

6

MAKSIM

Roman’s question settled over the room with an icy breath that hissed through my lungs. For the first time tonight, I didn’t have an immediate answer, or a challenge.

Anika looked between us, Kirill’s jacket clutched closed over her chest as though the expensive wool could somehow protect her from the three of us after we’d already stripped away every other defense. Her face was paler than when we arrived, her lips nearly colorless, but there was no satisfaction in her expression, no flicker of triumph because she’d finally found a hole in our story.

Fuck.

Roman straightened and rubbed a hand over his jaw in a familiar motion I understood right away. He’d stopped interrogating her and was reliving the evidence we’d been following. “The suite door recorded her leaving. Did we double check the gate camera?”

“Yes.” I managed not to grind my teeth, though it took a bit of effort.

We’d wondered how she’d gotten the money, and we still didn’t have an answer.

Kirill pushed away from the wall. “That’s a hell of a long time for a woman who claims she want home to magically steal thirty million dollars. We need to verify the information again. See if there’s any footage left on traffic cams or security cameras.” He swung around to face Anika. “Does your building use security? Or do you have a ring camera?”

“No.” A flash of annoyance crossed her face. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly swimming in Benjamins, you assholes. I barely make enough to pay rent. Security is a luxury.”

One I was sure she wished she could afford after her harrowing night. Fuck. There went another burst of sympathy. Much more of that and I might as well put on a pink tutu.

“She could have accessed the account remotely.” I said the one thing they’d been avoiding.

Anika’s mouth fell open. “I make pastries. I can barely get my laptop to update without calling the guy who fixes the bakery’s Wi-Fi. Do I look like a hacker?”

“You’d be surprised.” This came from Roman, who still hadn’t moved beyond rubbing that same spot on his jaw. “Someone with access could have scheduled the transfer.”

“Exactly.” I refused to abandon years of evidence because a woman with a smart mouth and a coffee card for cheap coffee appeared convincing under pressure.

Anika groaned. “For fuck’s sake. Do you hear yourself? If I was smart enough to steal thirty million dollars from three mob bosses and disappear for five years, why would I still be clipping coupons for butter?”

“Because you’re smarter than the average crook,” Kirill deadpanned.

I catalogued what we’d found in the wallet for the fifth time. Nothing about her life suggested wealth, but Kirill was right.

Anika pulled Kirill’s jacket tighter. “This is getting old. I understand you keep asking the same questions because you think I’ll slip up, but how can I when I’m telling you the truth?”

Annoyingly direct. I focused on her hand gripping Kirill’s coat, and a hot knot of jealousy curled in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t care for the sight of her in another man’s jacket, even if that man was one of my best friends. The reaction was irrational and irrelevant, but once it landed, it refused to budge. Damn it all. I stood and crossed to the door, opening it to reveal my men. They all straightened when they saw me, snapping to full attention. “Have a robe brought to me. The cream one from the east guest suite.”

Kirill hiked an eyebrow. “Are we getting cozy in here?”

“Your jacket is inadequate.” And we’d ruined her clothes. Much to her dismay, and if she was truly innocent and as poor as she claimed, then she had good reason to be furious with us.

Anika stared, her lips slightly parted. “I have no idea what’s going on, but it sounds like you’re arguing over who gets to put clothes on me after you destroyed everything I own.”

I almost admired her ability to make every situation more difficult than it needed to be. “Not arguing.” I stayed by the door, but when our gazes collided, heat spiraled through my entire body. “Insisting.”

Roman moved to the table and picked up her license again, phone pressed to his ear. “I want everything you can find. Yes. Residence, employment, banking history. Drag up every single tax record you can find. Verify it independently.”

“Stay out of my bank account.” She rattled the chains again.

“You claim there’s nothing in it.” Roman smirked. “Is there something you’d like to add?”