Page 48 of The Russian Retribution

“Sergey was a great man,” Viktor says, his voice changing to become ice cold. “You should watch your mouth, boy. The only reason it’s still moving is because of my good graces.”

“I respected him. I respect you,” I reply. “And I understand what a painful blow it was for you on a personal level. But Viktor, you’re placing blame on the wrong person and I’m not helping you with these delusions anymore. Your anger would be better directed at the Cartel?—”

The line beeps and falls silent.

He hung up on me.

Sighing deeply, I run my hand through my hair and press my fingertips firmly against my skull to try and ease the tension building in my head.

This is the right choice. All this time chasing after ghosts because Viktor needed someone to blame. Meanwhile, the real killer has been fleeing for months.

Shaking my head, I head back into the room just as Faina helps Anastasia down from the stage.

“Well?” She smiles briefly at me, her usual soft flicker as if she’s scared of giving anyone a full smile. “In blue?”

“Much better,” I reply, giving her the strong smile she lacks. “You look beautiful.”

“Indeed,” comes an unknown voice.

I spin on my heel, placing one hand back against Anastasia as my other removes my weapon from my hip holster. We’re joined by a woman dressed in a pencil skirt and a fluffy peach blouse. Shewalked through the door I just came through, and I kick myself for not looking over my shoulder before I came back in.

Her sharp eyes drop to my raised handgun and she smiles.

“You won’t be needing that,” she says. “I’m here to make a deal.”

20

ANASTASIA

“Cartel?” I ask cautiously, placing my hand against Erik’s lower back. Later, I’ll have to unpack how hot it was to see him rush to my defense so quickly. Right now, though, my focus is on the woman who seems completely unfazed by Erik’s gun and my presence.

“Oh, please.” The woman suddenly smiles. “My name is Tatiana Yegorov.”

“Yegorov?” While the woman’s face isn’t familiar, that name definitely is.

The Yegorovs are another large family just as old as my own. To my knowledge, they’ve never fought for the top spot like my grandfather did. Instead, they’ve sat comfortably down the ladder and focused on their money laundering business, as well as being the family that hands out countless loads to people in power such as celebrities and government officials.

Like most Russian families, they keep to themselves beyond the annual appearance at the gala to quietly remind everyone that they are still here and still as successful as ever.

My stomach knots suddenly, and I step out from behind Erik. “Yegorov. Are you related to Ivan?”

“I am his wife.”

“You know them?” Erik glances at me as I place my hand on his elbow to lower his gun.

“Yes. She isn’t a threat.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Erik replies, but he reholsters his weapon. “You came here yourself?”

“I asked my people to wait outside,” Tatiana replies. “I thought it would be best.”

She carries a sharp Russian accent, and the way she holds herself somewhat stiffly suggests that she isn’t here as much as her husband. While I haven’t met him in person for quite some time, I see his name crop up often.

“Please, take a seat,” I say, indicating to the surrounding couches. “I must change.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” Faina steps up to play hostess while I step away after a glance at Erik. I need to get out of this dress if I’m going to find out anything about why Tatiana is here and what sort of deal she is after.

As I undress, my mind races. I don’t have any issues with the Yegorovs as far as I’m aware. Their name wasn’t in any of the business documents, and my steps away from the skin trade shouldn’t have affected them at all. They’re old money, like my family was before my father squandered the majority of it.

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