Page 58 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

He’s frightened of me.

Good.

“Give me what I came for and I’ll leave,” I say. “You’ll never see me again.”

He stares at me for a second. Blinking. Thinking.

Then, finally, he lifts his hands in surrender and nods. “I’ll do it. Get the knife away from my whatever artery and I’ll do it.”

I step back but keep the knife raised, reminding him I’m ready and willing to use it. But Arnie doesn’t seem to need the encouragement. He turns around, grabs an unmarked envelope from the shelf behind him, and flops it down on his desk.

“Your basic ‘Witness Protection’ package is all there, okay? And I also included the birth certificate your friend had me make about six months ago. She paid for it but never picked it up.”

I’m about to pick up the folder when I register what he’s said. “What birth certificate? Which friend?”

“Brigitte. She called me and wanted a birth certificate made. I didn’t pay close attention to the details because she paid me in cash, but she said she was going to adopt a baby and wanted some official paperwork to keep people from asking questions.”

My stomach bottoms out. Goosebumps break out all across my skin. I feel faint.

I know Brigitte betrayed me. I’ve known it for months now, but that doesn’t make her callousness any easier to take.

Six months ago,he said.

Four months before I even had Lukas, Brigitte was planning to take him from me. She was planning to forge documents and make herself his mom. She probably would have done it, too, if I hadn’t killed her.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” I mumble. My fingers feel like ice cubes around the folder.

With the folder in my hands, Arnie looks torn. There’s a desperation in his eyes I’ve seen in wild animals before—when they’re cornered.

He doesn’t want me to leave with this folder.

I hold up the knife. “I won’t say a word about where I got any of this stuff from, Arnie. I won’t tell a soul, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

He sinks down in his chair, his face white. “No, darling. I won’t be.”

I back out of the room and hurry out of the carnival.

The air feels stagnant and hot. It’s not until I get outside in the ocean breeze that I feel like I can breathe. But even then, there’s a vise grip around my chest.

There’s a lesson I’ve been slow to learn, but it’s finally starting to sink in.

No one can be trusted.

I am the only person I can depend on.

20

Dima

The first time I tried to kill Giorgio, I spent countless hours planning every detail of the hit—only for everything to go to hell. This time, I’m not going to overthink it.

Giorgio is expecting someone is out to get him. He is expecting a sly operation. Something covert. Secretive.

He doesn’t know I’m willing to steamroll through the doors and slaughter every single guard and ally he has just to get to him.

He’s expecting an assassination. Not a motherfucking massacre.

The casino still has neon lights hanging above the front doors and wrapped around the circular wings of the building, but they are all dark. Yellow caution tape and orange construction cones litter the parking lot and the front entrance. Building permits hang in the papered-over windows.

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