Page 38 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

“Stay the fuck here,” I growl over her. “Don’t fucking leave. Don’t make me fucking repeat myself again.”

“You really need to work on expanding your vocabulary,” she retorts.

“You need to work on your listening skills.”

“Screw you. You can’t keep me here.”

“For fuck’s sake, woman!” I clench my fists tight. “You wanna run? Fine. Go ahead. I’ll hold the door open for you. But I doubt it will take long for me to catch up to you and a newborn hobbling down the highway. Especially since I’ll have your car.”

We stand there glowering at each other for a long moment.

But she knows I’m right. More to the point, she knows I won’t back down.

In the end, she sighs melodramatically like she’s choosing to stay here of her own free will. Fine by me—whatever helps her sleep at night.

Satisfied, I turn to leave.

Just for good measure, though, I stick the security system I bought at the store last night to the outside of the door frame.

If the door opens for any reason, an alert will be sent to the 90s-style pager on my hip, and I’ll be able to storm back here to show her what happens when you disobey the don.

* * *

Gennady and I meet at the same diner I ate at yesterday.

The morning crowd leans older than last night’s. The counter stools are filled from end to end with old men drinking coffee and eating donuts. They yak about the football team, the corrupt politicians, the weather, and when those topics run dry, they compare their aches and pains.

Needless to say, Gennady and I stand out a bit.

I don’t like it. Gennady, on the other hand, looks like he’s on a fun little field trip.

He waves the waitress over for another coffee refill. “Thanks, hon,” he tells her, drawing a beaming smile from her. To me, he tuts, “Stop pouting. You look like Eeyore.”

“We should’ve stayed in the car.” I’m scanning the diner again and again, one hand clenching my butter knife in case anyone gets any ideas. Relaxing gets a man like me killed.

“Sobrat,” Gennady sighs again, “chill. You think Hillbilly Bob over there runs a secret mafia you don’t know about? Everything will be fine. I wasn’t followed.”

“If the person tracking you was good at their job, you’d never know if you were followed,” I fire back. “We aren’t in a position to take chances. Not anymore.”

Gennady winks at the young waitress, who nearly swoons on her way back to the kitchen. “That’s right. You’re a papa now. A new chapter for Dima Romanoff.”

“Christ, don’t call me that. I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“Well, strictly speaking, you did have a choice, but I get it. Based on what you told me, I would have made the same one. The she-devil vet…”

Gennady’s gaze goes hazy as he no doubt recalls all of the details I shared with him months ago. Back when Arya was just a random, nameless fuck. Way before I knew anything concrete about her.

“Stop thinking about it,” I snap. “Even for you, there’s a line.”

Gennady holds up his hands in surrender. “Mea culpa.”

“We’re here to talk about a plan, so talk. Tell me what you know.”

“Do you want the bad news or the good news first?”

“Good.”

“Well, I found out Zotov has money flowing in from the outside.”

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