Nikolai
The next day, we meet up in Ravil’s office. Ravil provided a couple apartments in the building to the former slaves and Svetlana, Natasha’s mom, who is a nurse midwife, has offered them medical care. Nadia and Adrian interviewed them to see what could be gleaned about how they ended up in the U. S.
“It was Poval,” Adrian spits, pacing around the office like a caged animal. “Same operation that took Nadia. They came on shipping containers across the ocean then were trucked to Chicago.”
“Anything you can find about the actual shipping containers could help me trace the money,” Dima says from the laptop screen. “But I also may have a lead on finding Poval.”
Adrian stops and swings his head in the direction of the screen. “What lead?”
“He has a daughter. She’s in college in the U. K.”
“What is her name?” Adrian’s cuts across the room with deadly precision.
Dima hesitates, his gaze meeting Ravil’s through the screen. Everyone in this office knows what Adrian will do with that information.
But she’s an innocent. A young woman, like Nadia, who probably has nothing to do with her father’s criminal empire. I don’t think Adrian would harm her. He’s too protective of women for that. But he would probably use her for leverage. Just like I’d used Chelle.
Ravil inclines his head.
“I’ll send you the information,” Dima promises.
Chelle
The next day, I head out of my building to wait for my Russian chauffeur/bodyguard. Nikolai wanted me to call in sick to work, but I refused. There was way too much work to be done, and Janette’s not the type of boss who lets you work from home. She likes to do things in person.
I did promise not to go out to lunch, and I texted him an hour before I was ready to be picked up in the evening.
Traffic seems to be stalled in front of our building with construction. I scan the cars for his red Tesla.
My phone beeps with an incoming text. I reach for it in my purse at the same time something hard presses in my back.”Scream and you’re dead.” The rough male voice behind me is unfamiliar.
My fingers close around my phone, and I hold it tight, my mind racing to formulate a plan.
“I’ll take that.” He reaches in my purse and pries the phone from my fingers. “Turn left and walk quickly to the corner.” He jabs the gun against my kidney.
I stall, still scanning for Nikolai.
“Now or I shoot you right here in the street.”
Stubbornness kicks in. “You wouldn’t,” I say. “You need me alive.”
“Move or your punk-ass brother dies.” The guy grasps the back of my hair and uses it to propel me to the corner.
His words make my feet move, even though I’m pretty sure I should just fight here on the street where I have a better chance of getting away.
“Where is Zane?” I demand.
“He’s in the white van. If you want him to stay alive, you’ll get in quietly with him.”
They definitely know the right buttons to push. I’m not about to fight if Zane is right there and needs me.
The van door opens, and I see two guys in it but not Zane. I try to stop moving, but it’s too late. Something hard cracks down on the back of my head and everything goes black.
Nikolai
I’m crawling the glass ceiling of my Tesla because there’s goddamn construction or something on the blocks around Chelle’s office, and I can’t get through to pick her up.
I don’t like it. There’s an itchy feeling crawling up the back of my neck, especially because Zane hasn’t answered his phone all day, and Dima couldn’t track it-like he turned it off, or it’s dead.
I put an actual tracker that can’t be turned off in Chelle’s phone last night after she went to bed, so at least I have that. Zane’s safety is unfortunately as important to me as Chelle’s because I don’t want her to be damaged over something that happens to him.
I text Chelle to tell her to wait inside the building until I can get there, but she doesn’t text back.
I try calling, but she doesn’t answer.
That prickly feeling in full force, I pull up the tracking software. It looks like she’s standing in front of her building.
Dammit.
I try calling again. When she still doesn’t answer, I lose my shit. I swerve to drive with two wheels up on the sidewalk, forcing pedestrians to scatter for their lives.
Cars honk. People scream. I don’t give a fuck.
I skid around the corner, finally making it to the street Chelle’s building is on. I scan the sidewalk in front as I cut up onto the curb.
She’s not fucking there.
She’s not here, and my tracker says she is.
Blyad’!
I throw the car in park and leap out, racing to the sidewalk, dialing Chelle again as I follow the tracker to the corner.
I hear the phone ring faintly beneath my feet.
I swallow the bile in my throat as I slowly look down to see the faint glow of her phone beneath the bars of the storm drain.
Goddamnit. Chyort voz’mi!
I jog back to the Tesla to the serenade of a dozen car horns and get in. I’ve never been particularly violent, but in this moment, I turn deadly. I will fucking kill every last one of those zhopas who touched Chelle. She belongs to me and no one fucking touches what’s mine.
I call Dima first, even though he’s not here.
“They fucking took her!” I bellow.
“Blyad’. What happened?” His voice is low and urgent to match mine.
“Her phone is in the storm drain in front of her office. There was a jam-up on her street, and I couldn’t get through. They probably caused the delay on purpose to stake her out.”
“Fuck. Okay, I’m hacking the phone records to get both Chelle’s and Zane’s last calls and texts. It will just be a minute. While I do that, I’m going to connect in Ravil,” he says smoothly, which is probably good thinking, but I hate our pakhan witnessing my total combustion. “Hang on one second.”
A moment later he comes back. “I have Ravil and Maxim on the line too.”
“Where are you, Nikolai?” Ravil asks.
“Driving to Zane’s dorm. I’ve already been there today, as well as to Chelle’s to check on the new locks and make sure the place wasn’t being watched, but I didn’t find anything.”
“I’ll send some guys to stay at Chelle’s,” Ravil says. “Text me the address.”
“I have their last texts,” Dima interrupts. “Chelle’s was to you at 5:34 p. m. Zane’s was to Chelle at 7:42 p. m. last night. He sent no other texts or calls before his phone went dark at 9:03 p. m. Do you want me to try to retrieve the contents of Zane’s texts?”
Fuck. I doubt they have anything useful, but I mutter, “Da,” anyway.
“Stand by.”
“Let’s talk this through,” Maxim says. “If Zane owes this drug dealer money, he’s going to use Chelle for leverage, no?”
I want to scream, no shit, but I manage to say, “Yes,” through gritted teeth.
“He won’t keep Zane once he has her. If he even has him now.”
“Probably true,” I grunt.
“Zane won’t run if they have his sister, right?”
“No. He’s a coward, but he wouldn’t do that to her.”
“This is good,” Dima says. “Zane’s phone stores everything in the cloud. I’m going to activate a new phone with his data, and it will be like having a duplicate. We can see everything-everywhere he’s been, who he’s talked to, all of it.”I let out the breath I’d been holding. Thank fuck for Dima and his super powers.
“Last text was from Chelle. She said… mm.”
“She said what?” I shout at my dashboard as I double park in front of Zane’s dorm. This is no fucking time to hold back shit from me.
“She said you would pay his debt and that you’re good to her,” Dima says quietly, and I suddenly understand his discretion.
My heart cinches up so tight I fear it will pop. I can’t breathe, and it feels like my eyeballs are on fire.
“That was the last text?” I croak. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so broken.
“Yes.”
My brain stops. I can’t think my way out of the car, much less out of this situation.
Fortunately, Maxim still has a functioning cortex. “Then Zane will come to you if and when he can,” he reasons.
The thought brings me a small measure of relief. “Yes. He would come to me,” I agree.
“I’ll let Maykl know to be on the lookout,” Maxim says.
“All right, let’s dig into his locations,” Dima says. “How far back should I go?” He starts reading off locations.
“Hold on,” Maxim says. “What was that last one?”
Dima repeats it.
“That’s close to where we met the Devil Dawgs to buy the women,” Maxim says. “You think his drug dealers are the same assholes keeping slaves?”
“A coincidence, yes, but that would fit,” I say. “He said he had a deal going, but it went wrong. The Devil Dawgs would be the kind to go in heavy.”
“Since when is Zane a drug dealer?” Maxim asks. “I thought he was just a recreational coke user.”
“I imagine he was trying to clear his debt with us,” I grumble. I throw the Tesla into drive and pull back out. “I’m going to that warehouse. I know where it is.”
“Not without us, you’re not,” Ravil snaps with an authority he doesn’t often use.
When I don’t answer, Maxim says, “We’ll meet you there. Do not go in until we arrive.”
I still don’t answer because there’s no fucking way I will sit and wait outside a warehouse for backup if I think Chelle is inside suffering.
“Nikolai, I will bring cash to pay off the debt. No one has to die,” Maxim reasons. “If you go walking into their lair alone and get yourself killed, Chelle will be no better off.”
“I’ll wait,” I grudgingly agree. “Make it fast.”
“We’ve got your back. Just hold tight.”