Page 16 of The Mafia King's Baby

“We’ll have to investigate them all.” The thought exhausts me more than it should. Six years of building trust and loyalty, and now I have to suspect everyone I’ve depended on for survival? It’s demoralizing. “Do it, but quietly and carefully. If we tip off the wrong person, they’ll run straight to Lang.”

“Agreed. I’ll start surveillance on the most likely candidates.” The trooper gets coffee and returns to his patrol car without glancing in our direction as Leonid monitors his movements from the corner of his eye.

I should be focused entirely on tactical considerations, location security, communication protocols, and escape routes if the new safe house is compromised. Instead, I’m thinking about sage green walls, that dorky little dog with her sticks, and the way Celia’s hair caught morning light as she slept. “There’s something else.” The words come out before I can stop them.

Leonid turns to study my face with the careful attention of someone who’s learned to read danger in small changes of expression. “What kind of something else?”

“The host at the house where I stayed last night. We...” I struggle to find words that don’t make me sound like a complete fool. “Things became complicated.”

“Complicated how?” His voice drops to the flat tone he uses when he thinks I’m about to tell him something that will make his job significantly more difficult.

“We slept together.”

The silence stretches between us like a taut wire. Somewhere across the parking lot, a truck driver starts his engine with a rumble that seems to echo the building tension in Leonid’s expression.

“You slept with a civilian.” His words carry the weight of six years of friendship and the disappointment of someone who expected better judgment from a man he’s trusted with his life.

“It wasn’t planned.”

“It never is.” He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I recognize as his way of processing information he wishes he didn’t have. “Jesus, Yefrem. You know better than this.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because sleeping with random civilians while federal agents are hunting you isn’t just stupid, it’s potentially lethal. For both of you.” He starts pacing, three steps in each direction, the movement barely visible but clearly agitated. “What if Lang traces you to her house? What if she becomes a target because of your inability to keep your dick in your pants?”

The crude assessment stings because it contains enough truth to be uncomfortable. I did put Celia at risk by getting involved with her, no matter how genuine the connection felt in the moment. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” He stops pacing and faces me directly. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you endangered an innocent woman because you got lonely and sentimental.”

“She’s not just some random civilian.” The words come out with more heat than I intended. “She’s intelligent, kind, and genuinely decent in a way that’s rare in our world. Being around her made me remember what it felt like to exist without constantly calculating threats and advantages.”

“And that’s exactly why you need to stay away from her.” Leonid’s voice softens slightly, but the concern remains. “You’re getting attached, which makes you vulnerable. Vulnerable gets you killed in our business.”

“I’m not attached.”

“Really? Then why are we having this conversation instead of discussing operational security?” He crosses his arms, waiting for an answer I don’t have.

The truth is I can’t stop thinking about the way Celia responded to my touch, the trust she showed by inviting me into her bed, and the genuine pleasure she took in simple conversation over wine and candlelight. I can’t stop wondering what might have happened if I were really Aleks Sokolov, traveling businessman, instead of Yefrem Kulikov, Russian crime boss with blood on his hands and enemies closing in from all sides.

“She deserves better than what I can offer,” I say finally.

“At least you recognize that much.” Leonid checks his watch, probably calculating travel time to our next secure location. “What’s done is done. Now we focus on damage control.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we move you to the Nevada facility today, establish new communication protocols, and hope Lang doesn’t trace you to Lake Tahoe.” He pauses, studying my expression. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you? About who you are, or why you’re here?”

“Nothing. She thinks I’m a businessman traveling to San Francisco.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” He turns toward his car, then stops. “Yefrem? Don’t contact her again. Whatever you think you felt last night, it’s not worth her life or yours.”

The finality in his voice should reassure me. Clean breaks are always safer, and maintaining distance protects both of us from complications that could prove fatal. Instead, the thought of never seeing Celia again sits in my chest like a weight I can’t shift.

“There is one thing,” I say as he reaches for his car door.

“What now?”

“I want you to keep an eye on her for a bit. Discreetly and from a distance, just to make sure she’s safe in case someone traces me to her place.”

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