Page 34 of Resurrection

I grunt as I slide off his examination table. “You service the Van de Berg employees?”

The doctor scribbles a prescription for pain on his notepad, rips it off, and holds it out. “Yes. Why?”

“Valeriya? I hear her father is some kinda mafia kingpin.” I don’t take my eyes off him, trying to assess his level of knowledge.

The doctor’s face is granite. “I cannot discuss her with you.”

“She’s a client?”

“Enough that I cannot discuss.”

I fold the prescription and tuck it into my back pocket. For a moment, I stare at him, wondering if I can get him to say more.My instincts tell me she’s making dirty deals. She’s been working an angle or more than one behind the scenes. Whoever she’s working with, Valeriya thinks they have more clout than Carys.Who?

The last time I was blindsided by something I should have known is still fresh in my mind. I’m not keen to start a pattern. Poke, prod, dive to the bottom of any person who might have information. The doc isn’t budging, but at least Valeriya has been here. Routine appointments? Or more than that?

The doctor opens the examination room and ushers me out with his hand.

Carys and Jay rise from their plush seats when I amble toward them, my hands shoved into my pockets.

Her worried gaze meets mine. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.” I shrug. “More drugs.”

We get into the car, and Jay navigates the streets to Valeriya’s place with ease.

“What if she doesn’t talk?” I focus on the scenery while we cruise into a more upscale section of the city. Blackmail—maybe the doc has something we can blackmail her with. Access will be key.

“She will,” Carys says.

I run my knuckles across my cheek. “I don’t like it. Half the money to Ricardo goes missing. You’ve got an empty warehouse that should be full. Your showrunner here is a mafia princess with a chip on her shoulder. The situation is a fucking mess.”

“Thanks for the summary.” Carys removes her lip gloss from her purse and presses it against her lips. As she screws the gloss down and caps it, she looks at me. “Valeriya has been with me a few years. I’ve never had an issue with her.”

“This doesn’t seem like an issue to you? Seems like a big fucking problem to me.”

“She’ll be back in line today. I’m telling you, nobody in Russia wants to be poor.”

“Someone is backing whatever she’s doing. You’ll need to be tougher on her.”

She sits straighter in her seat. “You don’t have a clue how I run my business.”

“You’re right. But I understand when someone is getting fucked over. Unless you locked her accounts, she’ll have moved her money. Will you be able to find it again? Who knows?”

She crosses her arms. “I don’t need a Plan B. She’ll fall in line.”

My lips quirk up in a half smile. “Care to wager?”

“Wager?”

“If I’m right”—I don’t give myself time to consider the wisdom of this bet, spurred on by the desire to prove to her I’m more than a physical asset—“you and me, dinner tonight—no alcohol.”

She narrows her eyes. “And if I’m right?”

“Whatever you want.”

Her cheek caves as though she’s biting the inside of it. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Yeah, that’s clear.” I lean across the seat with my hand outstretched. “I don’t mind living on the edge. You win? You can decide your prize after. There’s nothing you could ask for that I wouldn’t give you.”

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