Page 88 of Torched

“My grandmother is Russian. She’s tougher than you and I will ever be, and you know what she would tell me to do?” Callie pauses. “To let her rot, because there is no way a Kulikov will be manipulated.”

Cristina’s breathing grows shallow.

“If you make me choose between Imogen and my grandmother, I will choose Imogen,Crissy.” The way she emphasizes her little nickname is callous and without any hesitation. The air becomes filled with silence, Cristina still glaring while she tries to break her head over a way out. But that’s the beauty. There isn’t.

“Give us Babushka, Cristina. It’s your only shot,” Callie orders again.

With some huffing and puffing, she lets out a grunt. “6459 Park Avenue.”

“What the—” I mumble, then frown. “New York? You’ve been holding her in my penthouse in New York?”

A smug grin comes my way. “You never expect to look in the places you own.”

Clever bitch.

I shake my head, a little stunned, then snap my fingers at Jeremy. “Get someone to check the penthouse.”

He steps away with his phone to his ear, and I glance down again while I mute my own device.

“How did you get her in there anyway?”

“You live in a building that’s filled with Forbes 500 people. No doorman bats an eye when large packages are shipped in.

A gut-wrenching feeling attacks me, thinking about Babushka moving through my front door in different boxes, and I pull my gun from the back of my jeans. “She better be alive, Cristina.”

“Relax! She is! I hid her body behind a pallet of champagne when your next-door neighbor was throwing a party.”

I close my eyes, imagining Babushka passed out like a rag doll behind some crates of bottles, resisting the urge to shoot Cristina now for treating the old woman the way she did.

“What? She’s fine, Liam. I swear.”

“Shut up. Just fucking shut up,” I seethe, pinching the bridge of my nose. Getting up, I point at the fucking wench in the hole. “Never leave her out of your sight.”

I trail toward Jeremy, who’s standing about twenty yards away, calling to our men in New York while I continue my conversation with Kane and Callie.

“You two still there?”

“We are,” Kane announces.

“Is she there?” Callie asks, her voice a little clipped. She did a good job, showing no emotion when talking to Cristina, but I know she must be anxious to know if Babushka is safe and healthy.

“Jeremy is finding out as we speak. I want to shoot her so bad.”

“Wait until Jer confirms Babushka is okay. Then do with her whatever you want,” Callie scoffs.

“Hold on. I’m getting a call,” Kane says before I hear his footsteps leave the room.

“You okay, Liam?” Callie’s tone is sweet and caring, and I smile at the long road that led us here. I’m tired, and I’m worried about Imogen. I can’t wait until we can fucking get on with our lives.

“I’m worried about Gen, Callie.”

“I know. So am I. But Dax will not hurt her. He wants that diamond.”

“What about Cristina?” Gen’s suspicion keeps running through my mind, wondering if she has anything more up her sleeve that we don’t know about.

“I asked Reign to find out if she has a connection to Dax, but so far, it doesn’t seem like it, other than the fact that he wants the diamond just as much as she does. She’ll never let us trade that thing for Imogen. She’s gonna try to steal it before we get it to Dax.”

“I know. It’s why she needs to go.Now.” There is no scenario other than Cristina dying. It’s the only way we know she’ll never screw us over again.

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