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Voyeurism of my hoped-for self-implosion was one of several goals.

“Yes, it was.” The three words were enough. Several thoughts manifested themselves in the frontal lobe of my brain, including the possibility that Isabel was alive. “I need you to find out where her mother was being held, a nursing facility and have her moved to a more secure location.”

“Didn’t she betray you?”

I wasn’t entirely certain. “It doesn’t matter. I gave her my word.”

“Pakhan, I don’t want to suggest you weren’t thinking clearly, but is there a possibility with all the noise of the horrific accident, the voice you heard was someone else?” Sergei was being very particular about his choice of words.

“It was her. I’m certain.” Although as I continually played her voice and words back in my mind, the breathless tone didn’t sound like the woman I remembered. One always confident in what she was saying.

I sensed the tension in the room and Roman cleared his throat. “But you don’t have a recording.”

“No.”

“You’re not suggesting she’s alive,” my brother continued. “Or are you?”

Even I wasn’t emotionally so far gone that I believed she’d call and say nothing but that she loved me. “I’m not ruling out any possibilities.”

“You were there when the pathologist told you the bones were identified.” Roman was close to being exasperated.

“Do you know how easy it would be to fake results? That’s hacking 101,” Diana offered. “And the pathologist would have no idea.”

“You’re not helping,” Roman snipped, to which she simply shrugged.

At least it was decent information, although I wasn’t foolish enough to embrace hope.

“Diana, I want every transaction you can find regarding the members of both the Steel Mustangs and the Southern Outlaws. If working with another syndicate, they were paid well for their activities.”

Her glare was harsh. “That’s going to take me a long time. All biker clubs are masters at hiding their true identities including their bank accounts. I think they’re taught how to do so in prison.”

“Aren’t you being a little stereotypical?” Kristoff asked.

She shrugged. “I know my MCs.”

“To answer your question, Roman, I don’t believe either are alive. What I do believe is that someone is hopeful my mind will spiral to the point of being unable to handle business. If you think about our clients, many would benefit from me losing my fucking mind.”

Sergei and a few of the other captains chuckled. “You had us worried, Pakhan.”

I shifted my attention to my councilor and brigadier, unable to laugh it off with them. A sickening feeling had formed and was festering in my gut. The vicious game was about to take a turn for the worse.

“I assure you I’m of sound mind. Diana, I also want you to hack every security system of every business surrounding the restaurant.”

“You’re still thinking someone used a commitment switch,” she offered, which meant they were close to the site of the explosion before detonating.

“Whoever is involved wanted the satisfaction of watching his creative endeavor succeeding. That means someone witnessed something.”

“I’ll get my team on it right away.”

With the fucking police little more than clowns, it was time for me to act as detective as well as judge and executioner. There was no perfect crime, especially when everyone involved was a narcissist.

“You’re on fire,” Roman suggested, yet his words didn’t match the concern lingering in his eyes.

“As so many of you have made certain to tell me, there is other business to handle. Which means I also want a meeting established with the Saudis. The terms of their contract will change.” My statement brought a few whistles from several of my captains. My men searched each other’s faces, refusing to look me in the eyes. I couldn’t blame them as any eye contact was usually met with intentional or unintentional punishment.

“Whew,” Kristoff said. “They will be angry.”

“Then let them be.”