Page 15 of Mob Bride

I look past him and see he has the record of my movements leading up to two blocks before I got to the construction site. I turned it off before I knew where I wanted to go. I didn’t want either of them coming to get me. I’m not ready to pull out of this assignment yet. I put too much into it for one beating to end it all. I don’t think they would intervene. But I didn’t want to run the risk.

Now I’m fucking glad I had the gift of second sight and turned it off. I’m sure we track all the syndicate leaders. The last thing I need is for them to put two and two together and know I met with Shane. No. Not met with. Met. I certainly didn’t plan on meeting him.

Hot as he may be, I know he’s going to be a pain in my ass. There’s no way a man like him will give up wanting to know more about a woman who gets beaten up and happens to be his doctor’s daughter.

“What do you have for me? Any clues about where Bartlomiej might be? Any hints?”

I redirect the conversation back to what I need to know. I can’t let on to Bartlomiej if I find out where he is, but I want to be prepared.

“No, we don’t know where he went. That came as news, when you walked in. Wherever he is, it’s definitely overseas. Most likely somewhere in the former Eastern Bloc.”

That makes me raise my eyebrows.

“Armenia?” I test the waters.

Both men stare at me, then Steven swings back around to his computer and starts typing furiously. I watch as an email account comes up. I walk closer and lean over his shoulder, translating the Polish into English.

I’ll land in six hours. We’ll meet at the cafe. Be there. Don’t make me hunt you down.

It’s an email Bartlomiej sent. But the recipient’s email is a jumble. There’s nothing recognizable about it. It’s certainly one nobody wants easily deciphered. There’s no salutation. There’s no sign off. It’s just those few sentences.

“Can you track the IP?”

“No, not yet. It’s through a VPN. It’s well encrypted.”

I’m sure it is.

I can think of at least four men who could hack the shit out of that and already know. One is Shane’s twin brother Sean. Another two are Sergei Andreyev and Anton Kutsenko, the intel gatherers and hackers for the Ivankov bratva.

Joaquin is the one who serves the Diaz Cartel. The man is probably the smartest of all of them. And across all the syndicates, he’s the fucking laziest. The man does the bare minimum to meet his uncle’s expectations. It’s not even like he’s off womanizing or gambling or drinking like people might expect the stereotype. The guy likes his fucking Legos.

Legos. A fucking cartelbarónlikes Legos.

Thinking that tempts me to laugh. But I don’t need to share my thoughts with anybody. It’s Lorenzo and Carmine who are the chief intel gatherers for the Mancinelli Mafia. Lorenzo’s a skilled hacker and Carmine’s just nosy as fuck. I’m certain those men know exactly where Bartlomiej is right now.

It’s a shame I can’t go knocking on Shane’s door or even Sean’s and say, “Hey, what’s up? Where’s my boyfriend?” I can only imagine how that would go over. That makes my lips twitch.

“You’ve got nothing for me?”

I turn back to Johnny and cross my arms. Oh God, that hurts. I let them fall to my waist. That hurts even more as it jerks my shoulders.

“Not right now. Keep your tracker on.”

“I don’t know what the deal was. I didn’t think I was anywhere where it wouldn’t pick up.”

I lie through my teeth. Both men stare at me before they nod. I’m the picture of plausible innocence. They know how well I can lie. But they know how often I tell the truth because I hate lying when I don’t have to. I consider this one of those necessary times. They might not agree.

Steven’s a little more thoughtful than Johnny, who’d be all business all day if he could. “Do you need anything? Do you have the supplies to deal with those injuries?”

“Yeah, I got an industrial-sized bottle of arnica I’ll probably go through in the next two days. I got some ice packs as well. I have a stocked first aid kit.”

This is hardly the first time somebody’s whaled on me, but it’s certainly the worst. It’s not an experience I need or intend to repeat. I could have done without it the first go around.

“All right, you can see I’m in one piece, and I know no more than you do. If you’ve got nothing else for me, I’m headed back to the apartment.”

I’m exhausted, and that was a monumental waste of time going around in circles for nothing. I could sleep for a week at this point. Or at least until Bartlomiej comes back in town. Both men agree, so I head to the garage. I back out down the driveway. And look around before I pull onto the street. My headlights are off. I never have the daytime running lights on. I never have them set to auto. I decide who and when someone sees me. And right now, I’d like to stay invisible.

I don’t think I have ever slept so much in my life. The only time I woke up to know what was going on was when I was starving,thirsty, had to go to the bathroom, or for my mom. She’s called every day for the last three days, and I don’t blame her. She thought—blessedly—three days cooped up inside, sleeping most of the time, was the best medicine for my injuries.

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