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“Because I know what it’s like to have your back pushed against the wall.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I need you to know that I loved that little girl, Mr. Aristov. She was so sweet, so talented. She really was. I am so sorry.”

“You do realize that if I find out the role you played was more significant, I will be very… angry.”

She chewed on her lower lip. “I’m not lying to you, Mr. Aristov. I’m sorry for doing so earlier.”

“Good to hear and I believe you.” What I understood was that the attacks had been handled in such a way as to maximize my pain and confusion. “Now, go home and pack.”

“Okay, I will. Do you have any idea who did these terrible things?”

“I have every intention of finding out.”

She wiped her eyes before grabbing her purse, shaking as she stood.

A part of me wanted to blame her, yet her sincerity and how much she’d suffered provided me with confirmation she wasn’t working with anyone. She’d simply been used. I tossed the trash and followed her outside.

“Take care, Ms. Brighten.”

There was true sadness in the woman’s eyes and as she started to cross the street, I had a sense of calm, more so than I’d felt since the fire.

What was the saying about the calm before the storm? Just as I started to turn and head for my car, my phone rang. While taking long strides, I pulled it from my pocket. Seeing the unknown number wasn’t necessarily unusual as this was my business phone. What bothered me was the timing and an instinctual moment of knowing I was being watched.

As soon as I stopped walking, I turned toward the SUV with two of my men inside. They reacted instantly, both exiting the vehicle.

I pulled the phone to my face, my attention grabbed briefly by a loud horn followed by a speeding car.

Another moment that would be played out in a future setting.

“Maxsim Aristov.”

Just as I answered the phone, a massive thud interrupted the conversation, screams from bystanders immediately following. Sara had been run down by an unknown assailant, her broken body left in the street.

And the voice on the other end of the line dragged me into a muddy haze, the past colliding with the present.

“Maxsim,” the soft, feminine voice began. “I will always love you.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Pakhan. Our information was incorrect.” With the death of a captain at the restaurant, Damen had been promoted into his position. His first order had been to hunt and secure the VP of the Dixie mafia who’d been in hiding since early January after learning about the massacre over Christmas.

His voice held a nervous tremor. I rubbed my forehead with my thumb. “You mean to tell me that after spending several days in Hilton Head, you were unable to locate one man.”

“We don’t believe he was actually there.” Damen shifted from one foot to another, still uncomfortable in his new position.

“So you were given information that wasn’t checked?”

“Yes, sir.”

At least he was honest. He deserved the same courtesy in kind. I placed the barrel of my weapon against his forehead. Every man in the room bristled while my head intelligence officer barely moved a muscle, still typing on her computer.

“I don’t care what you need to do or how you do it, but find him. If you fail, I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Is that understood?”

Damen swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes, Pakhan. I won’t fail you again.”

I kept the gun in place for a few additional seconds before pocketing it. “This is no game. This is a war. Make no mistake.”

Hell on Earth.