Page 100 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

We’ve been zigzagging across upstate New York for hours, trying to figure out where Leo landed.

“We can’t go after Leo directly,” Nico says after he gets off the phone.

“Say what, now?” Booker asks, looking around.

We’re outside a suspected safe house for the Sokolovs, but there’s no one here. It looks deserted, in fact, untouched for at least a few months. Every damn time we get a lead, we hit a dead end. No answers; just bolted doors and boarded-up windows.

“Not right now, anyway,” Nico sighs. “I just spoke to my friend Caleb’s contact at the New York Field Office. Leo was spotted in the city with a big crew. A blonde woman was seen with him.”

“Fuck,” I gasp, realizing what this means. “If he’s already in the city, that bastard has lots of places he can hide.”

“Then we do something else,” Booker says, his brow furrowed. “Clearly, the Sokolov crew were sitting on this place, using it as a base while they combed the area for Zoya Asimova.” He pauses and goes through the files on his phone. “Look. Here. 1435 Pleasant Drive. A property owned by Lev Asimov, Zoya’s husband and Anya’s grandfather, until 1985. It was sold to an Asimov associate. From there, it was sold a couple of more times over the years.”

“It stayed in the family, but under different names,” I reply. “The same goes for the Hamptons place.”

Chappaqua looks good this time of the year: quiet, tidy, and dressed in snow. The woods unravel beyond the edge of town, silent and filled with shadows. Somewhere a few blocks east of here is Zoya’s previous safe house, the place Anya left a few months ago. Leo and his brother picked up her trail from there, while Zoya went to the Hamptons.

Every second that passes makes me think we might never see Anya again.

Nico gives me a hard look. “You’re right, Chance. We can’t keep chasing our tails. We can’t take the Sokolov syndicate down on our own under these circumstances. We need leverage. Zoya can give it to us.”

“She’ll give us anything to save her granddaughter,” Booker agrees.

* * *

Two hours later,we’re in the Hamptons on the northern shore.

Overlooking the marina and nestled between two brutalist mansions is Zoya’s second preferred safe haven—a villa built on two levels with mirrored windows, white walls, and a sprawling front garden likely dotted with security cameras and motion sensors.

“I’ll bet money the windows are bulletproof,” I mutter as we case the place from across the street.

A heavy, cold wind rises, and the sound of sea water lapping at the marina’s edges sends shivers down my spine. The temperature is dropping as we huddle under our winter coats. We’re already big, but these jackets make us look even bigger and harder to go unnoticed.

“Caleb just confirmed,” Booker says, checking his phone again. “This house was also passed through several Asimov-connected owners over the decades. The last listed proprietor purchased this about three years ago.”

“Likely around the time Paul Asimov was getting ready to change the deal with Leo Sokolov,” I reply. “Zoya smelled something rotten coming. I’m sure of it. She tried to cover her tracks, just like she did in Chappaqua.”

“Well, she’s probably inside now,” Nico says, gazing at the villa. “Might as well ask her ourselves.”

I give him a slight nod. “She won’t be alone.”

“But she knows us,” Nico says.

“No, wait—” I try to stop him, but he’s already crossing the street, looking both ways for traffic. “Shit.”

“Give him a second,” my twin advises, his eyes fixed on our brother. “Zoya remembers us well. She knows us. She knows Anya was coming to see us.”

“We lost Anya.”

“Give him a second,” Booker insists.

What other choice have I got against the mounting despair that seems to cloud my judgment? I was sharper, quicker before, but the thought of losing Anya again, of losing our baby, is doing an unpleasant number on my head, and I need to take a deep breath. There’s a reason we let Nico lead this charge.

We both watch as our older brother approaches the iron front gate. camera mounted at the top. I see it moving to better capture him on what is likely a live CCTV surveillance system. Nico presses the intercom button. “Zoya, we need to talk,” he says. “Leo has Anya.”

Nothing.

“Movement inside,” Booker whispers.

---