Page 91 of Wicked Arrangement

I decide to trust my instincts and confide in Thomas. “Yes, Kim told me as much herself, we just didn’t know where they were holding Emma.”

Thomas doesn’t seem surprised that I knew, or even that Kim confided in me. “Who else knows?”

“No one.”

“You think you have other spies among you?” Thomas astutely guesses.

I nod.

Thomas sighs, leaning back in his chair and steepling his hands together. “Quite the predicament you’ve got here myfriend. It must be hard, both of you having to pretend to be in the dark and that Kim is doing her part without giving up anything valuable…”

“You can say that again,” I reply with a groan.

“Bogdan Sharkozi might not be as smart as his father, but he’ll get suspicious soon if Kim is living here but doesn’t give him any information,” Thomas points out.

“I know, but what other choice do I have? I can’t risk her being sent away with my men in case one of them is with Sharkozi. But I don’t know how much longer either of us can keep this up. Kim needs time to heal and emotional support, but I’m having to keep her isolated to maintain appearances,” I say exasperatedly.

Thomas thinks for a moment, stroking his chin before snapping his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve got it. Kim can come stay with my wife and daughters!”

My first instinct is to refuse, the thought of letting Kim out of my sight isn’t a nice one. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. As head of the Gillihan Mob, part of Thomas’ success is because he seems so squeaky clean on the surface and none of his business dealings are ever at home, so Kim won’t find out anything she’d have to report back to Sharkozi there. Plus, it could be good for her to have some time to heal around other women who might be more understanding of what she’s going through. It wouldn’t rouse the interest of Sharkozi’s spy either since it’s clear that Kim needs time to heal and we’ve tried to make things seem as strained between us as possible.

“You’d do that for her?” I say, genuinely touched but also suspicious of the cost.

“For you, of course, if this partnership is going to grow, we have to trust and help each other, don’t we?”

“We do,” I agree.

“Then it’s settled, bring Kim over tomorrow to meet the girls and she can stay with us until we’ve found out a way to rescue her grandmother and draw out your traitor,” Thomas says, holding out his hand to shake on it.

I take it, shaking his hand and feeling relieved that I won’t have to feel tormented by Kim’s presence and pretending for a short while. As much as I don’t want her and our baby out of my sight, I know this is the right decision for us.

“I take it Roman Sharkozi isn’t talking?” Gillihan asks.

I’m surprised again by his deductive skills. Bogdan has been officially putting out the line that Roman has returned to Russia. I shoot Thomas a look, debating if I should tell him the truth.

He chuckles, “I suspected you took him after you changed our drop off location last minute and then conveniently the next day Roman returns home, despite no one seeing him. I assume he tried to interfere in our deal?”

“That’s right,” I reply.

“Well then, you made the right call. The old fucker won’t talk though. You’re probably best off eliminating him, Bogdan’s running the show now anyway, he’d probably thank you for it. Though I wouldn’t off him until you’ve got Emma Walsh backin one piece. That is assuming you’ve not ended him already,” Thomas says conversationally as if discussing the weather, not murder.

I don’t reply, there’s no need, my silence is confirmation enough. Gillihan is right though, as much as I’d like to kill Sharkozi now, he’s not talking and every day he’s with us there’s the risk of him escaping. But he could be used as a bargaining chip, so right now he’s more valuable to me alive. Regardless, sooner or later Roman Sharkozi will die by my hand.

Chapter 48

Kimberly

My time in Orlando has been frustrating, to say the least. While I understand the need to be careful, not being able to talk properly to Yaroslav and be myself around him is driving me crazy. Ninety percent of the time I’m kept isolated in my room. During my time in captivity, I grew used to solitude, and this is, in essence, voluntary but that doesn’t make it any easier. I can’t even talk to David for long without someone interrupting us under some flimsy pretense. The house is heavy with suspicion, I suspect everyone, and everyone suspects me.

I wish I knew what Yaroslav was thinking, but for obvious reasons, he has to keep his distance. Sharkozi wasn’t lying when he said he has eyes on me wherever I am. His notes and instructions somehow always seem to find their way to me, though I never see the culprit. The notes are getting more threatening, he’s not happy that I’ve so far been unable to provide him with any kind of useful information. My fear for my grandmother grows every day and then I feel even more anxious knowing that stress is bad for the baby.

I feel as if I’m adrift. Stranded and alone in a vast ocean.

I’m depressed and lonely. The people I used to rely on to get me through the hard times are all gone. Gran is god knows where being held captive, I can only hope that her Alzheimer’s for once is a saving grace and she doesn’t understand the danger she is in. Yaroslav is here, but has to be so distant he may as well be on another planet. My brother is gone, and that relationshipbroke down long before now. And my former best friend turned out to be a sadistic bitch. To say I’m screwed would be an understatement. It’s hard not to feel defeated.

When one of Yaroslav’s men comes and informs me to pack a bag and get ready, I don’t know what to think. I wish I knew what was going on, but I’m continually left in the dark. Are we going back to Atlanta? I wonder. Does this mean progress is finally being made?

Outside, there’s a car and a driver I don’t recognize waiting for me. My heart hammers in my chest as I panic, has Sharkozi sent someone for me and somehow managed to pull it off without Yaroslav knowing? I contemplate making a run for it but then where would I go? Plus there’s no way I’d outrun everyone here. Reluctantly, I climb inside the car’s plush leather interior.

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