Page 10 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“Jack Bowman,” Linda says, her voice trembling with emotion. “He’s missing.”

Shit. It was bound to hit the news cycle; I’m just surprised it took so long. My father frowns. “What do you mean he’s missing?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer though. He snatches Linda’s phone and starts scrolling through the news article while Shelby lingers next to her desk. “Okay, so, what do I need to do?” my friend asks.

“Go to lunch, it’s fine,” my father replies. “I need time to figure out how we’re going to respond to this. We don’t have any details at this moment.”

“This is devastating,” Linda says.

No shit, Sherlock. Jack Bowman is a huge contributor to my father’s political campaign. He’s been a Phelps ally for as long as I can remember. Hell, I got my interview with him because of his close ties to my father.

“Lyric, didn’t you have an interview scheduled with him yesterday?” my father asks.

Suddenly, one too many eyes are trained on me. I break into a cold sweat, heat spreading through my chest as I struggle to retain my composure.

“I… um… he wasn’t there. So I left,” I manage.

“Why didn’t you call me?” my father asks, his brow furrowed with concern as he points to Linda’s phone.

I offer a faint shrug. “I didn’t think I needed to call you. I didn’t see or hear anything suspicious, he just wasn’t there. I figured something must’ve come up and his assistant would contact me to reschedule.”

“I got you that interview, Lyric. If he didn’t show up, I would think you would call me.”

“For what purpose? Are you privy to his schedule? Do you have a tracker on him?” My father’s attitude is irritating me now.

“You know what, never mind.”

“Good,” I shoot back and look at Shelby. “Ready?”

“Go ahead, Shelby. I’ll see you in an hour,” my father says.

Shelby gives me a faint smile then follows me across the bullpen and into the elevator. The farther I get from my father and the ensuing chaos surrounding Jack Bowman’s disappearance, the better. It worries me, though, now that it’s public. It’s in the news. What will the cops ask when they inevitably get to me? Even more importantly, what the hell am I going to tell them?

Once we’re out of the building and settled in one of the more private booths at Mussi and Joe’s Diner, two blocks down the road, I feel like I can breathe again. Of course, this ice-riddled Hugo appetizer cocktail is also quite good at relieving some of the pressure. It tastes great, too, so by the time the waiter comes back with our menus, I’m already ordering a second drink.

“You look pale,” Shelby says, flipping through the salad pages of an impossibly large menu. It reads more like a book. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m just tired,” I reply.

“Can’t blame you. You put so much time into that algorithm of yours.”

“Hey, it’s worth it,” I say with a half-smile. “It could redefine geopolitics in the long term.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I think it’s why your dad really wants you to work with him. I still don’t get why you won’t do it. The pay would be insanely good.”

“I can’t have my algorithm in the hands of politicians, alone. It’s nowhere near ready to be used like that,” I say, flipping over to the burgers and fries portion of the menu. “I still have years of fine-tuning ahead. If I am able to test it with the University of Chicago’s research team first, and then run a beta model with a large company or a midsized corporation right afterwards, I think I could have a more advanced model ready, in say, a decade. What my father wants is not only impractical, but also not feasible. He wants me on the market with this way sooner than I should be.”

“He wants what’s best for you,” Shelby insists.

I give her a long, hard look. “You used to be against politics altogether. Remember sophomore year? The pink hair? The grungy tees? What the hell happened?”

“I grew up,” she says, slightly irritated. “Besides, my doctorate is focused on political science. I majored in it, if you recall. It’s a little late for you to be astonished by my choice of career, Lyric, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry,” I exhale sharply. “It’s just… my dad and I have a strained relationship. You know that. It’s always been complicated between us, especially after Mom died. I guess I don’t like how close the two of you have gotten and maybe I’m a little jealous.”

Shelby smiles softly. “Your dad simply appreciates my youthful enthusiasm and the fresh outlook that I bring to the table. I could never replace you.”

“It’s not what I mean,” I mumble, wondering how to make Shelby aware of my father’s tendency to use people without offending her. “Dad tends to drain people. Of knowledge, of energy, of kindness. And when there’s nothing left for him to take, he forgets who you are.”

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