Chapter Twenty-Two
I still don’t know if I should trust Veronika Kotova, but I have a sinking suspicion that it doesn’t matter anymore. Hurting her isn’t within the realm of possibility for me. Not since…last night.
Truthfully, I should be thankful my phone rang. I should be grateful for any kind of wake-up call since Veronika’s presence is scrambling my brain like I scrambled these eggs.
She retracts her hand instantly as my ringtone obliterates the strange quiet that fell between us the second she touched me.
Rising from my seat and extracting my phone from my pocket, I dip out of the kitchen into the foyer. It’s Finn. I finally answer on the fourth ring.
“Got anything?” That’s my cousin. No preamble.
“Nothing we didn’t already know.” After Veronika closed the computer last night and then…everything else that followed… Well, the point is that we haven’t found out anything more about this modeling summit or what Troy’s really planning. I steel myself for Finn’s impatient bark at my failure.
Instead, he chuckles. “Couldn’t break your hostile captive, huh?” I’m not sure what he’s implying, but he doesn’t seemmad, so I count my blessings as he continues. “Rory was able to scrape up some additional information.”
“Oh?”
He exhales, the amusement fading from his voice. “It’s happening in five days.”
“That doesn’t give us a lot of time.” Not if the family’s planning to do something about it…
“Sure fucking doesn’t.” I hear rustling from Finn’s end, like he’s adjusting his massive frame in a chair somewhere. “I was able to find out the timeline and guest list, but I don’t like what I see.”
“Who’s going?”
“Representatives from several major crime families and a few private collectors.”
We both know how that translates. Famous people whose identities are protected by whoever’s in charge of this so-called summit.
My jaw tightens. “Troy really is running an auction house?”
“Looks that way.” Finn’s heavy fingers type away on a keyboard. “I looked up the missing person report you sent over and found the connection. The girl who was abducted crossed paths with Sophia Kovaleva’s agency. They’ve got direct ties to Red Hill, but here’s where it gets worse.”
Why does it always get worse?
“Kovaleva isn’t just running a front. She’s got deep connections to a Russian bratva through her family.”
“The Petrovs?” They’re my first guess, but I hope I’m wrong.
“Roldugin.” Finn says the name through gritted teeth, and I don’t blame him. The Roldugins are even worse than the fucking Petrovs.
Shit, shit, shit.Whoever Veronika’s friend is, she’s in more trouble than any of us could have predicted.
“If this Kovaleva woman has connections to RolduginandRed Hill, there has to be some kind of deal on the table.” I’m just thinking out loud, but Finn gives an affirmative sort of grunt, communicating that I’m right on point.
“My guess is that she’s helping Red Hill establish international human trafficking routes.”
“You think they’re trying to branch out?” The Red Hill Mafia has traditionally made money through kidnap rackets and drug trafficking. If they’re working with human smugglers now, they’ve got to be trying to expand their client base and profit margins. “So, little Troy’s building something bigger than we thought.”
My fingers retrieve my lighter from my pocket, flicking it open as scenarios zoom through my mind.
“Much bigger,” Finn agrees. “Intel suggests the summit isn’t just an auction. It’s meant to be a demonstration. Red Hill wants to show Roldugin they can deliver high-end merchandise to clients worldwide. Kovaleva’s connections could give them protection on both sides of every border.”
“And if they succeed,” I follow his train of thought, “they’ll finally accumulate enough money and power to hit us where it hurts.”
The idea is grim.
Red Hill isn’t likely to ever forget what we did to them.