Page 41 of The Mafia King's Baby

“So, he’s still coming after you for revenge?”

“Probably somewhat, but mostly, he got desperate again. My spies tell me he’s convinced himself he can neutralize me before I can expose him to honest agents within the FBI.” Yefrem shrugs, a gesture that encompasses years of conflict and violence. “I intend to ensure he sees he’s wrong.”

I sit back in my chair, trying to process the full scope of what I’ve learned. This isn’t just about one corrupt agent or one criminal organization. It’s about competing power structures, overlapping jurisdictions, a shadow economy that operates parallel to legitimate business.

“What happens now?”

“Now it gets complicated.” Yefrem pulls out another document, this one covered in official-looking letterhead and bureaucratic language. “Lang’s disappearance will trigger a federal investigation. They’ll trace his movements, interview his contacts, and search for evidence of what happened to him.”

“They’ll find my house.”

“Eventually. My people are cleaning it now to eliminate any trace that either of us was ever there, but investigators are thorough when one of their own goes missing.”

My stomach drops at the thought of the entire FBI pursuing me. “What about the Belovs?”

“They’ll soon realize he’s actually dead and the notebook is still in my possession. If they really want my territory—and they do—they’ll escalate.”

“Escalate how?”

Yefrem meets my gaze directly, looking solemn. “They’ll come after everyone connected to me. My associates, my employees, and my properties.” He pauses, giving me time to process that. “They’ll target anyone who might know where I am or what I’m planning.”

My stomach churns with a surge of nausea. “Anyone like me.”

“Yes.” The stark word is so much worse than if he’d tried to soften it, though there’s really no way to cushion this blow.

Reality settles over me, increasing my nausea. I’m not just hiding from federal investigators anymore, which is bad enough. I’m also possibly a target for Russian criminals, who see me asa potential source of information or leverage against Yefrem. There’s no neutral position in this conflict, and no way to extract myself without becoming a liability to one side or the other. “So I can’t go home.”

“Not safely. Not for a long time.”

“Ever,” I whisper, accepting that horrible truth. How can I? This sort of situation doesn’t just fade away. “My mother…” I close my eyes. “What about her?”

He hesitates. “In the future, when it’s safer, I’ll ensure you can discreetly contact her. If she wants to join us then, I’ll make the arrangements.” His tone is gentle. “That will have to be several months, at the very least, before the heat dies down. In the meantime, is there some subtle message you can send to let her know you’re alive and reasonably safe that won’t attract FBI attention?”

I stand up and walk to the window, looking out at the forest that surrounds this compound. There are miles of trees in every direction, natural barriers that hide us from satellites and surveillance, and from the outside world and all its complications. A beautiful prison for people who can’t afford to be found. I consider his words before turning to look at him. “Can I send her a music box with a Nutcracker theme? When I was little, she took me to the show every year, and we always bought a music box from one of the vendors.”

He nods. “Find one you want to send and text me the link. I’ll arrange it.”

I let out a small sigh of relief that I’ll be able to send my mom a subtle message. She’ll still have a million questions, but at least she’ll know I’m alive. If this goes on for too long, maybe I canfind a way to send music boxes every few months to let her know I’m still okay.

I meet his gaze again. “Be honest with me. How long will all this really take?” In my heart, I already know I can’t return to my real life, but how long until I can settle into a new one and feel safe?

“This will last until we resolve the situation with the Belovs and their allies in the Bureau.” Yefrem joins me at the window, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his presence and remember how it felt to be in his arms. “We have to find a way to neutralize the threat permanently.”

I shiver since that sounds ominous. “What does that mean?”

“It means, especially for the Belovs, that we make them more afraid of us than we are of them.”

The clinical way he says it, like discussing a business strategy rather than planning violence, reminds me again of what kind of man he is, and I’m tied to him for the time being. He solves problems with force when negotiation fails, who sees killing as a tool like any other. It’s frightening but also somewhat reassuring. If I’m dragged into this, I need someone who knows how to fight back since I’m out of my element.

The unfairness of it all threatens to overwhelm me. “I didn’t ask for this.”

He sounds sympathetic but firm. “I know.”

“I just wanted to rent out my guest room. Make a little extra money while I figured out what to do next.” I turn away from the window to face him directly. “I didn’t sign up to be a fugitive.”

He nods. “You didn’t sign up for any of this, but you’re here anyway, which means you’re stronger than you think you are.”

“Or stupider.”

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