Page 100 of Maxim

“Get the best shots uploaded to the website, and then send a message to all our subscribers,” Uriov snaps to the photographer. “I have a special show planned for tonight, so I want as many viewers as possible.”

The photographer nods and begins to pack his stuff away, then the door opens and an unwelcome visitor arrives.

Chapter seventy

Max

Since Natalya disappeared, I’ve barely slept. All I can think about is what she must be going through. Sasha combed through the camera footage around my estate and found no signs of an intruder because the two cameras near the hole in the fence had been tampered with.

We searched beyond the rear of the property and spotted some tire tracks, but so far, I have nothing. No leads. No clue where Uriov has taken her.

Sasha thinks there might be a clue on her phone, as I told him she acted strange at the funeral, so he’s trying to hack into it. However, he doesn’t hold much hope.

“Did you get anything useful?” I bark when Kolya walks in. He looks almost as shitty as I do. As well as Natalya’s disappearance, one of our other warehouses was hit last night. This time, however, we managed to foil the attack and capture two of the assailants. Kolya’s been questioning them for the last few hours.

He cracks a smile. “Yeah, boss. One of them sang like a canary. He confirmed Uriov is behind all of our recent issues.”

I suspected as much. Now that he has Natalya, it’s clear he means to break me. How he found out she was mine is a mystery, but I guess I haven’t exactly kept my relationship with her a secret. Any number of people could have seen us at the nightclub, or in bars and restaurants.

This is all my fault. If I’d listened to my gut and stayed away from her, Uriov wouldn’t have targeted her.

“What else do you need me to do, Boss?”

I’d forgotten he was there. He watches as I scrub my jaw and try to think. Where might Uriov have taken her? We know he’s working with the mayor, so perhaps we need to start looking a bit more closely at Kolanski.

Maybe I should give that asshole a call. Scare him a bit. He thinks he’s safe now he’s working with Uriov but I know Anatoly well and there’s no way he’ll protect the mayor once he’s served his purpose.

“Is Amanda safe?” As Natalya’s friend, she’s also at risk. I wouldn’t put it past Uriov to take her. And we still haven’t located Jane.

“Yes, Boss, she’s with my brother and cousin. They’ve taken her to a safe house. Nobody will get to her there.”

I have a feeling there’s more to that story than he’s saying but now is not a good time to ask.

There’s a commotion outside the front door and one of my guys comes in looking irritated. “Boss, a kid has shown up, insisting he needs to talk to you. He says he’s your woman’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” I think back, trying to remember what Natalya told me about her family. Does she even have a cousin or is this kid a trojan horse from Uriov? I honestly wouldn’t put it past the asshole to send a kid strapped in a suicide vest to my front gate. For the lolz. He really is that fucking insane.

Leon looks nervous, not wanting to say the wrong thing in case it sets me off again. I’ve been like a bear with a thorn in its butt for the last 24 hours.

“Yeah, he says so but I can’t be sure who he is. He has no ID on him.”

“OK, bring him to me.” I may as well see what he has to say. If he’s here to try and kill me, then I will deal.

“You sure, boss?”

Leon shrinks under my hostile glare. “You think I can’t handle a kid?”

“No, of course not, boss…” Kolya struggles not to smirk as Leon backs up with a nervous look in his eye. He knows he’s already on thin ice for not preventing the car bomb that killed Natalya’s colleague. While I accepted his and Pietr’s story about helping the woman with the missing kid, any more fuckups and he’s a dead man. They both are.

I try to be a fair Pakhan at all times, but I will not stand for mistakes that cost lives, especially if my malyshka is in danger.

“Good, glad to hear it.”

“I’ll come with you, Boss,” Kolya says, his hand on his gun. None of us are taking any chances.

He follows me as I leave the house and walk down to the gatehouse. My guards have our visitor pinned up against the wall, guns trained on him, yet he looks pissed off rather than scared.

“Are you Maxim Petrov?” he snaps when he sees me. There’s zero deference. I can’t decide whether to be angry or amused. Right now, amused is winning, but only by a whisker.

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