Page 32 of Cruel Redemption

After a few blocks I turned off one of the waterfront streets. I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes. The sun’s reflection off the water was sharp. One of the barges sounded its horn. It was haunting as it traveled across the river.

The first time I’d really been given an important job in my father’s organization was when I had to oversee cargo shipments at the docks. He thought it built character. Gave me a chance to understand the hard work people put in to work for our family. It wasn’t long after I left for France for my Bratva training. I watched the vessel heading out to sea, and wondered if that was one of the ships he used to own that now was part of Amara’s fleet. I sped up, putting the container ship behind me. If it was possible, he’d find a way to scratch and crawl his way out of hell if it stopped me from being with her. Damn it. I pulled into the driveway of the Amato compound.

I tucked my sunglasses into the inside pocket of my jacket. I opened the door and placed one foot on the concrete. It was all I had time to do before I heard tires squealing, doors slamming, and lights flashing in every direction.

I closed my eyes, slowly raising my hands in the air. I didn’t make any other movements. I waited for the words that were inevitable going to be spoken.

“Luka Novikov, we need you to come with us. You’re under arrest for the disappearance of Enzo Barone.”

Eighteen

Amara

I glared across the room at the radiator. It had started hissing again. I left the files on the table and walked over to the device. I knew better than to use my hand this time. I wrapped a towel around the handle and twisted it back to the off position. It was as if the damn thing only had two temperatures—on and off. I needed off. The heat in this place was stifling.

I had turned it back on when Luka left this morning. He took the warmth with him.

The key he had given me to the locks rested on the corner of the table. I returned to the files I had opened.

I had read the same contract five times. The same top paragraph at least ten. Every time I started it over, I thought I’d retain some of it, but it wouldn’t stick. Not when he was gone. Not when the stakes were so high.

I paced in the small cabin, making a lap around the couch and back around again.

Barbara had given me the docs to go over about the treasure tech. It was the most valuable asset Luka had, and I wanted it under my company’s umbrella. I sat at the formica table, ready to give the files one more chance.

Barbara had attached a hand-written note to the inside flap of the file. I read something about how the Lieutenant Governor was forming some alliances. When were politicians not forming alliances? Tomorrow, he’d have new allies and new enemies. I hated the political world. I preferred the organizations.

I flipped the top page and started to read about the treasure tech.

Was this possible? Could I pull this off? Bring the tech into my media department and partner with Luka. It would have global implications. I’d have a foot in every market. It was the one thing that could launch a thousand more arms of my company. I twisted my lips together.

Luka was going to hand it over. He was clear about that. After Dmitrt Novikov spent faster than he could profit, this was the only legitimate asset Luka had. Under my development though it could be incredibly powerful.

There was another offer he had put on the table. Merge our two companies. Join forces.

I sighed. We should be able to take on the world. We could knock down anyone who came after us. But at what cost did I go into a partnership with him? What did I have to give up to start sharing? What did I gain in the process? My head hurt. I stood from the table.

What time was it?

I picked up my phone. Oh my God. It was after two o’clock.

Luka swore he’d be back with lunch. I opened the home screen, but there were no bars. I groaned. I gripped the phone, stopping myself from hurling it at the radiator. I’d never been so frustrated. I was the kind of woman to overreact. Call it training, or maybe it was my personality.

My stomach rolled. Something didn’t feel right. I waited for footsteps on the porch that never came. It was still too hot. I pulled on my shirt. My head started to throb. The headache was spiraling as I realized there was something terribly wrong. My mouth went dry.

I would give him an hour. Three o’clock. Then I was going to open the door.

I set a timer. It would keep me from anxiously checking my phone every three minutes.

As soon as I heard the crickets beep, I grabbed the key and turned the locks.

I stepped onto the porch, looking left and right. It was quiet. It didn’t feel as if there was anyone else for miles. I realized I couldn’t just walk out of here. There was a reason he wanted me to go into hiding, and the fear that someone could have grabbed him as easily as they grabbed Enzo almost paralyzed me.

I staggered backward into the cabin. I had to get organized. I needed a plan to hide that I had ever been here. It wasn’t hauling a suitcase through the bayou.

I packed the most essential contracts and files in a messenger bag. The rest I hid under the couch and in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. The best I could with the suitcase was wedge it at the end of the bed and cover it with quilts, hoping it looked like a piece of furniture. I’d packed too much, not knowing how long it would be before I returned to my compound. I didn’t expect to leave the cabin like this—like a woman hiking out of the woods to save her life and looking for the man she loved.

I lifted the messenger bag over my head and walked out of the cabin.

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