Page 112 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

“He arrived just in time,” I confirm. “He’s talking to them now.”

“Good.” Damir relaxes slightly. “Mikhail is the best. He’ll keep them busy with legal jargon until they forget what they came for.”

I smile despite my worry. “He seemed very confident.”

“He should be. He’s never lost a case.” Damir shifts, wincing slightly. “Help me sit up more.”

I adjust his bed, then rearrange his pillows to support him better. “The agents want me to come in for questioning in three days.”

“You won’t go alone,” he says immediately. “Mikhail will be with you.”

“I know.” I smooth the blanket over his legs. “Damir, they’re not going to stop. Even if we leave the country like we discussed, they’ll keep looking.”

He grunts. “Let them look. By the time I’m recovered, everything will be in place for our departure. Anton is handling the transition. Mikhail is preparing our legal shield.”

“And what about the baby?” I place a hand on my stomach. “I don’t want our son born into a life of looking over his shoulder.”

Damir covers my hand with his. “He won’t be. I promise you. By the time he arrives, we’ll be settled somewhere safe. Somewhere new.”

I want to believe him. The conviction in his voice makes it easy to imagine the future he describes, a home somewhere warm and peaceful, far from the violence and danger that has defined our relationship from the beginning. “I’m holding you to that,” I say, leaning down to kiss him gently.

He cups the back of my neck, keeping me close. “I’ve never broken a promise to you. I don’t intend to start now.”

The door opens, and Anton enters, his expression carefully neutral. “The lawyer’s handling them, but they’re not happy, especially when he mentioned his friendship with their SAC. The short one with the attitude seems particularly pissed.”

“Miller. He seems to have a personal vendetta.”

“Most federal agents do,” says Damir dismissively. “They build their careers on high-profile cases.”

Anton moves to the window, peering through the blinds at the parking lot below. “They brought backup. Two more agents in a car outside.”

“Standard procedure,” says Damir calmly, though his hand tightens around mine. “They’re just trying to intimidate us.”

“It’s working. At least on me.”

He strokes the inside of my wrist. “Don’t let it. They have nothing but suspicions. If they had evidence, they’d have warrants.”

The door opens again, and Mikhail enters, looking completely unruffled despite what must have been a tense conversation. “They’re leaving. Reluctantly, but they’re leaving.”

“What did you tell them?” I ask.

Mikhail sets his briefcase on the small table by the window. “I reminded them of the legal consequences of harassing a victim of violent crime, especially one under medical care. I also mentioned my friendship with their Assistant Director.”

“Do you actually know their Assistant Director?” asks Anton, looking impressed.

Mikhail’s lips quirk in a small smile. “I know his wife’s divorce attorney. It amounts to the same thing.”

Damir chuckles, then grimaces at the pain the movement causes. “Always three steps ahead, Mikhail.”

“It’s why you pay me so well.” Mikhail turns to me. “They’ve agreed to postpone your interview until next week. By then, we’ll have a better strategy in place.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely.

He nods, then turns back to Damir. “We should discuss your options. The sooner we get ahead of this, the better.”

“Not now,” I say firmly, noting the lines of pain around Damir’s eyes. “He needs to rest.”

He studies Damir for a moment, then nods. “Of course. Perhaps this evening when you’re feeling stronger.”

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