Page 67 of Ten

“He’s been cleared for in-state travel as long as he notifies his parole officer before leaving—and he did by email and phone. I was sitting right beside him when he did it.”

“If he hasn’t broken any of his conditions, he didn’t get revoked.” Ilya returned his attention to his phone.

“What if he had an accident? What if he’s been hurt?” My anxiety spiraled out of control as I imagined all the horrible outcomes.

“Who had an accident?” Eric asked as he entered through the front door. “Perimeter is clear, by the way.”

“Ten hasn’t made contact,” Ilya explained.

“He might be in a long meeting with his PO.”

“Not this long,” I protested. “Surely?”

Eric checked his watch. “No, you’re right. Not this long.” He lifted his gaze to Ilya’s. “An accident? Or maybe he got pulled into a side job by your boss?”

“I’m waiting for Kostya’s answer.” Ilya stared at his phone as if willing a message to appear.

Wilford rubbed against my good leg, and I crouched down to pick him up. He allowed me to cuddle and love on him as I stood there listening to Eric and Ilya toss ideas back and forth. They were right, of course. Ten was street-smart and battle-hardened.

Ilya’s phone rang. I didn’t even try to hide that I was eavesdropping as I stroked Wilford’s fur. Not that I could understand a word he said. I glanced at Eric and noticed he seemed to be following along just fine. Apparently, my old friend had learned Russian at some point.

When Ilya ended his call, I asked, “What’s wrong? Was that Ten?”

“It was Kostya.” Ilya’s expression was hard to read, and I had to bite back the urge to yell at him to tell me what was happening. “Tiara showed up at the salon. She was a mess and crying. She told him that she had made a mistake that was going to get you and Ten killed.”

“Where is she now?”

“He didn’t say.”

“What else?” Eric knew the answer.

Ilya seemed to realize that Eric had understood the conversation. “Well, why don’t you tell Nisha since you were being so fucking nosy?”

“I think it’s better coming from you.”

“Ten was seen driving away from his appointment with a gun to his head and a knife to his throat,” Ilya said without even a moment’s warning.

The words hit me like a truck. I lost my grip on Wilford, and he reacted by scrambling for purchase, clawing at my arms and chest before flinging himself onto the nearby counter where he yowled angrily at me.

As he scuttled off, I stared at Ilya in shock. My body felt suddenly cold, and my knees wobbled. “What?”

“That’s all I know, Nisha. I’m sorry,” Ilya apologized. “The tracking device that Kostya has in every vehicle was disabled, and Ten’s phone was found a few blocks away from the parking lot.”

“And?” I asked, desperate for Ilya to tell me that Kostya had the whole Kalasnikov crime family scouring the streets looking for him.

“And that’s all I know.” Ilya speared me with a warning look. “You are not to leave my sight until Ten is returned.”

“Oh, so this is my prison now?” I gestured around the cabin. “And you’re my warden?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Nisha.” Ilya frowned at me. “I’m charged with keeping you safe until Ten returns. I’d rather not get the ass beating of my life if he comes back and finds you gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” The last thing I wanted to do was cause any more problems. Savannah and Chess and Robin Harris. She might have been rude to me and accused me of something terrible, but she didn’t deserve to die. The fire at the salon. Ten taken hostage.

What was next? Who else would get hurt because of me? Ilya? Eric?

“I need to be alone for a while.” I held up both hands to prevent the men from trying to stop me. “In our room. I’ll even leave the door open so you can peek in on me.”

“Fine.” Ilya nodded. “Leave the door ajar, please.”

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