Page 43 of The Mafia King's Baby

He doesn’t even blink. “Including me.”

I nod and leave him alone with his maps and plans and carefully documented crimes. In the hallway outside his study, I lean against the wall and try to organize my thoughts around this new reality.

I’m not just hiding from the consequences of killing Marcus Lang anymore. I’m hiding from the consequences of getting involved with Yefrem Kulikov, a man whose notebook contains enough criminal evidence to bring down multiple organizations and people. He’s made enemies of federal agents and rival crime families, solves problems with violence, and considers killing a reasonable business practice.

He’s promised to be my partner in this, which shouldn’t make me feel better since he dragged me into this, but it does. I’m steadier knowing I’m not navigating this alone. We’re working together even if that means sharing a fortress with armed guards and enough firepower to fight off an invasion. It’s difficult to accept my safety means accepting protection from someone who’s committed crimes I can’t even imagine, but that’s where I am.

I think I’ll survive this, but I’m sure it means giving up all hope of returning to the woman I used to be. I walk back to my room and lock the door, then sit by the window looking out at the forest. Right now, federal agents are already investigating Marcus Lang’s disappearance while Russian criminals are planning their next move against Yefrem and anyone connected to him.

And here I am, caught in the middle of it all, trying to figure out how to build a life from the wreckage of everything I thought I wanted. I think about Mrs. Patterson and Sariah, hoping Janine can come by to walk the little dog until my lovely neighbor is back on her feet. I have no way to contact her subtly like my mom, since we have no major shared history. I’ll be a mystery to her, with my disappearance dissected by the neighborhood, becoming juicy gossip until I become a footnote they occasionally mention in years to come. It fills me with sadness.

What choice do I have though? I’ll have to start learning how to be someone new, who can live with the choices I’ve made to survive in a world where violence is commonplace and trust is a luxury few can afford.

Tonight, I’ll mourn the woman I used to be, the life I’ll never get back, and the safety I didn’t know I was giving up when I decided to rent out my guest room to a mysterious stranger with kind eyes and dangerous secrets. Tonight, I’ll just be sad and not worry about finding the strength to carry on at least for a few more hours.

16

Yefrem

The compound feels different with Celia here. Not just occupied, but alive in a way it hasn’t been since I acquired the property two years ago. I catch myself listening for her footsteps in the hallway, noting when she’s in the kitchen making coffee or sitting by her bedroom window looking out at the forest.

It’s a distraction I can’t afford, but one I can’t seem to eliminate either.

I spend most of the day in the communications room with Leonid, coordinating with our contacts and piecing together intelligence about the federal investigation into Lang’s disappearance. The news isn’t encouraging. Two FBI agents showed up in Lake Tahoe yesterday, asking questions about Lang’s last known movements and interviewing anyone who might have seen him.

“They talked to three neighbors on Celia’s street.” Leonid scrolls through the report on his tablet, his expression grim. “Theyasked about unusual activity, unfamiliar vehicles, and whether anyone saw Lang entering or leaving the area.”

I lean back in my chair and rub my temples, where a headache has been building for the past hour. “What did the neighbors tell them?”

“Nothing useful so far. Mrs. Patterson mentioned seeing a black sedan parked across from Celia’s house, but she couldn’t provide a license plate or description of the driver.”

The elderly woman whose dog Celia walked, who treated her like family , is another connection severed and another relationship Celia will have to abandon because of choices I made. “Any sign they suspect Celia was involved?”

“Not yet. Her sudden disappearance is curious, but there’s no evidence connecting her to Lang’s activities.” He sets down the tablet and looks at me directly. “That could change quickly if they find something we missed.”

“Our people were thorough.”

“They were, but federal investigators are persistent. If Lang left any trace of his surveillance on Celia, or any record of his interest in her property, they’ll find it eventually. If they’re keeping surveillance, and they surely are, one of the residents not returning after a couple of days will have caught their attention. They are probably getting a search warrant as we speak.”

The possibility sits heavy in my chest. Lang was careful, but he was also desperate toward the end. Desperate people make mistakes, leave evidence they shouldn’t, and create trails that lead back to their targets. “What about the corruption angle?”

Leonid’s expression brightens slightly. “More promising. I’ve confirmed that Lang was working with at least three other agents, plus two prosecutors and a federal judge. All of them are compromised, and all of them vulnerable to exposure.”

“Vulnerable enough to negotiate? Or anyone who overlaps with our network?”

“Yes. Judge Manlio Moretti owes you a favor from the Kozlov situation two years ago. He might be willing to provide information about Lang’s network in exchange for continued discretion about his own activities.”

Moretti is a respected federal judge with a gambling addiction and a weakness for barely legal women that cost him a fortune in blackmail payments before I helped eliminate his tormentors. He’s been clean since then, but the evidence of his past indiscretions would destroy his career and his family if it became public.

“Set up a meeting in D.C. Somewhere public but private. You know what I mean. I want to know everything he knows about Lang’s operation and who else might be involved.”

Leonid nods and makes notes on his tablet. “Travel arrangements?”

“I’ll drive. Flying leaves too many records, and we can’t afford to be tracked right now.” I pause, considering logistics. “Three vehicles, different routes, and we’ll rendezvous in Virginia before heading into the city.”

“What about Celia?”

That’s a question I’ve been avoiding contemplating much all day. What about Celia? She’s safer here, protected by loyal menand sophisticated security systems, but she’s also isolated and dependent on others for information about threats that affect her directly. After yesterday’s conversation, she won’t accept being left behind without a fight, but it’s for her safety. “She stays here. Full security detail, no exceptions.”

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