Page 21 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“Like I said, knock yourselves the fuck out,” I repeat. “We’ve been down this road before, Smith. We all know where it leads.”

“It’s Director Smith, as of next week,” he shoots back. “And then, things will be rolled out a bit differently. I suggest you release Bowman before I bring in the hounds of hell.”

Ivan snorts. “Let me guess, you’re going to split the bill with the fine gentlemen from the DEA and the ATF. You’re going to raid another one of our offices and try to get the Department of Defense involved. We know the drill, future Director Smith. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

Petrov watches him like a hawk. The old wolf would love to blow a hole right through Smith’s skull, but he knows we cannot, and will not, go against the Feds like that.

Smith tries a different approach, putting on a subtle smile. “How involved is Lyric Phelps in all of this?”

I freeze. My brain shuts down. Darkness creeps in. I can feel its icy clutches tightening around my throat. Artur and Ivan both give me a hard, loaded look. I take a deep breath and decide to test the waters. Smith didn’t bring her up without having a reason or knowledge about something.

“Who’s Lyric Phelps?” I ask.

“You know who she is. Witnesses put you outside the library where she works down on Kingston Avenue just a couple of days ago. She was also supposed to meet with Bowman at a hotel you were staying at.”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What were you doing on Kingston Avenue?”

“We have plenty of meetings every single day. Business takes us all over the city,” I snap. “Listen, Smith. You’re reaching here. It’s the mark of a desperate man, and it’s going to blow up in your face.”

“Or maybe, you three got sloppy. Did you use Miss Phelps as some kind of honey pot?” Smith asks, carefully analyzing each of our reactions.

“Who is Lyric Phelps?” I ask again.

“Matthew Phelps’s daughter. Certainly, you’re familiar with him, seeing as he’s mounting quite the PR campaign against you and your Bratva cohorts.”

Petrov exhales sharply. “Oh, right, that stooge who wants to run for a state senate seat. He has a daughter?”

“Apparently,” Artur replies with a shrug. “But we know nothing about her, nor have we ever met her. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Smith. And last time I checked, it’s not a smart strategy to drag your buddy’s daughter into your mess. You don’t want the future state senator to get egg on his face because of your unfounded allegations.”

And there it is. It’s sinking in. I can see it in Smith’s eyes. He made a play and missed, which means he’s got nothing but circumstantial bullshit. He’s got a tail on us twenty-four-seven, and one of his guys must’ve spotted us near the library.

The agents start boxing up files, folders, and notebooks. One of them even takes a deep dive into the shredder. He’ll be extremely disappointed when they find nothing except a few pages out of a car-themed magazine and a couple of printer test papers.

“Don’t think for a second that I won’t be paying more attention to Lyric Phelps. I will find dirt, eventually. And I can say one thing with absolute certainty—let Bowman go, or it’s going to get really bad for you.”

“We don’t have him,” I say.

“Let. Him. Go. This is not how you’re going to get what you want, Max. Trust me. The people you’re after are way higher up the food chain. Bowman can’t help you,” Smith says.

His words hit me on a deeper level. He knows what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. He’s familiar with our cause, which means he’s also familiar with the higher ups who pull his own strings.

We’ve never received a clear confirmation that Bowman is at the very top of a disgustingly corrupt pyramid, but we know he’s at one of the superior levels. Taking him was supposed to be enough to get them to back off and leave us be.

Yet as the days pass, I’m starting to bitterly agree with Smith. Especially now that Lyric’s name has been dropped. Maybe this was a misfire on our part. And judging by the sour looks on Ivan and Artur’s faces, something tells me they agree.

Whether we like it or not, we may have no choice but to release Bowman and try another approach once everything cools off.

6

Lyric

Ifind Shelby waiting outside the library at the end of my shift.

Her smile and bright eyes tell me there are new and positive developments, though I’m not sure in which aspect of her life. But she is holding a box of our favorite macarons, so it must be good news.

“What’s up, buttercup?” I quip as I descend the library’s front steps.

---