60
IVAN
“Was that really necessary?” Yasha groans when he comes back over.
I step back to avoid the puddle of blood forming around Mikhail’s head. Or what’s left of it.
“He challenged me. I didn’t have a choice.”
Not that I would’ve chosen any differently.
“No, I know.” He sighs. “I mean, I could have done it. It would have been a real clean shot, too. But you charged in and got your poetic justice. It makes for a better story, but I just would have liked a shot at him. Maybe not even the kill shot. Just a graze.”
“You can shoot him now if you want.” I toe Mikhail’s limp leg. “He won’t shoot back.”
Yasha wrinkles his nose. “Thanks, but no thanks. It’s not the same.”
“What did you tell the rest of the Sokolov soldiers?”
“What you told me to tell them: if the police come sniffing, none of them were ever here. They’ve never heard of the place, never heard of you. They won’t have a single fucking clue to offer up to solve this mystery.”
“And if Konstantin asks them what happened?”
Yasha knows the drill by now. We’ve cleaned up enough messes over the years to anticipate what needs to be done. But now is no time to get sloppy.
“Mikhail challenged you,” Yasha says. “He showed up unannounced and threatened your wife, questioned your authority, and refused to back down even when you gave him the opportunity to walk away. You didn’t have a choice.”
I didn’t. No one gets to treat me like that and live.
That doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to the wrench this is going to throw in my relationship with Konstantin.
I sigh and turn away, walking back towards where I parked at the back of the warehouse. Yasha trails along behind me. “Make sure the body is cleaned up and disposed of,” I tell him. “Let a couple of recruits deal with the hands-on work if you want, but I want you to oversee everything. I don’t want him washing up on the beach tomorrow morning.”
“Done. Maybe disposing of him myself will scratch the murderous itch the asshole gave me. Or maybe not. I’m getting a little old to be hauling bodies around.”
His phone rings and Yasha turns away to answer it. He’s the point man for so many different things that he’s always on the phone. I don’t pay any attention to it.
Until he grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop.
“Say that again,” he orders into the phone.
“Who is it?” I ask.
Yasha stares at me, his eyes getting bigger with every word being said on the other end of the phone. Words that I can’t fucking hear.
I growl and grab his phone, switching it to speaker.
“—days, maybe four. We just found them this morning. But they were fucking ripped to shreds. Shot and stabbed beyond recognition. Whoever did this enjoyed it.”
“Tell me who’s dead,” I bark.
“Who is—Is that—” The man on the phone splutters.
“Yes, it’s Ivan,” Yasha says. “Skip the fangirling and tell the pakhan what you told me.”
The man clears his throat. “Every guard at the safehouse in Moscow is dead. No one had heard from them in a while, so I went to check. All three of them were goners. Smelled like they’d been dead for a few days already.”
The last message I received from the safehouse was a notice that Francia had arrived and would be “taken care of.” Usually, that would mean she’d be offered food, clothes, and a bed. In this case, it meant Francia was going to be bunking with the men who were deemed too unpredictable and reckless to live Stateside.
She was in for hell.
Or so I thought.
I look to Yasha as I ask, “And Francia? Where is she?”
“There’s no sign of her. She disappeared. We have men looking for her but—”
I don’t need to hear anymore. I run for my car and call Cora at the same time. I told her I’d make myself scarce while she had her dinner with Marcus, but this is bigger than that. Her safety trumps everything else. I need to hear her voice. Now.
The phone rings and rings and rings. Then her voicemail picks up.
“Fuck!” I roar.
Yasha is right behind me. “I’m calling Jorden to see if she’s heard anything from either of them.”
“If Jorden has heard from Francia, she’s already dead.”
Yasha’s jaw clenches, but there’s no point in sugarcoating the reality. If Francia is back, there’s only one thing on her mind: revenge.
I call Niles, but I’m not getting anything. My only hope now is that it’s a signal jammer. If it’s not, then they’re all—
I can’t sit and think about possibilities for another second. I need to do something. I need to get to Cora.
“I’m going to the mansion.”
“We have no idea what’s happening there,” Yasha protests. “Give me a second and I can—”
“I’ll call you when I know something. Or you call me when you know something. But I’m not leaving Cora alone right now.”
Yasha waves. “You go. I’ll see you soon.”
I hope like hell he’s right.