Page 51 of Resurrection

I had a feeling this might be complicated. “We’ve located Valeriya.”

He stills, and his gaze bores into me. “And you’re here.”

“I am.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Won’t help me.”

He shrugs. “Same—same. Carys didn’t take you wherever she went. You’re a wanted man. Your reputation for brutality precedes you, Mr. Donaghey. I don’t want you near my daughter.”

“Because you know she’s a liar and a traitor to the Van de Bergs.”

“She’s my daughter. Someday, if you have a child, you’ll understand. She could shoot me in the back, and with my dying breath, I’d still love her.”

There are two people who own me in a similar fashion, and neither of them will ever be kids. “I can pay with interest.”

“Do you intend to go after Carys, and by extension, my daughter?”

I shrug and consider drawing my gun, doing this conversation with more force. How many guys does he have in the house? How bloody could a confrontation get? He hasn’t even let me in the door.

“Valeriya would not have done this on her own,” Demid says.

“Something we can agree on.” But our reasoning is different. “Do you have information?”

“She’s been acting oddly for the last ten months to a year. Not herself. Distracted. Trips out of town. Said she had a boyfriend, but never wanted me to meet him.”

I squint, trying to figure out if there’s any relevance to the timeline. The warehouse was cleaned out in the last few weeks. Carys indicated that the packages have only been arriving for a few weeks. Then there’s the murder of the FBI agent, which might be unconnected but can’t be ruled out.

“Her boss?” I say.

The name is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t quite grasp it.

“Ekaterina Petrov,” Demid agrees. “She may know more, yes.”

“If I promise I won’t touch your daughter, will you give me Ekaterina’s contact details and a hundred-thousand-dollar loan?”

“What is your promise worth, Mr. Donaghey?”

My instinct is to smirk and offer a smart-ass reply. My promise is worthless if I get to Ireland and find Valeriya has put Carys in more danger or hurt her. I say nothing.

“Hagen vouched for you,” Demid says.

A smile tugs at my lips. “What’s that mean to you?”

To me, his approval is worth dick-all. Hagen’s a cocky, dumb fuck who rides on his father’s impressive coattails. But if Demid thinks Hagen’s opinion is valuable, I will not argue with him.

“To keep the peace with him, I do as you ask and hope your promise has weight.” He gives me the once-over. “One hundred thousand—American?”

I nod.

“Wait here.”

The door closes in my face once more, and I take a deep breath to rein in my temper. After he’s been gone a while, I sit on the steps of the house and work on figuring out my Russian phone. I’m not sure what time Carys snuck out of the room, but it’s midafternoon. There will be a limited number of flights to Belfast today. There may not be any.

When the door reopens, the guard has a duffel bag, and Demid has vanished.

“No parting words?” I rise and take the sack from his hand.

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