Page 1 of Room Nine: For Their Eyes Only

Chapter1

Sooner or later, your past catches up with you.

Today is that day.

I slip my cell phone from my coat pocket and grimace at the message on the screen. It’s an address on the other side of the bridge, a neighborhood in Brooklyn I haven’t frequented since my mother moved to Florida a few years ago.

Nothing left there but a handful of old friends, a few enemies, and horrible memories I’d love to forget.

“Looks like we’re headed to Little Odessa.” I hand the address to my driver, Olav, who seamlessly changes courses west. I’m unsure why we have to meet in such a conspicuous place. Boris Volkov resides on the periphery of every law enforcement officer in New York.

I left that world behind five years ago and fought hard to rebuild my life on the right side of the law. The last thing I want is to get caught up in a sting and wind up on the FBI’s hit list.

Part of my job is maintaining a friendly and stable relationship with law enforcement. If any catches me fraternizing with Volkov, it could jeopardize everything.

I listen to the tires thump over the imbalanced asphalt, the familiar sound of crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, and steer my gaze to the choppy waters of the East River. The rocking motion brings a tinge of nostalgia, as if I’m traveling back in time, growing younger by the second.

If only that were possible. There are so many things I’d do differently the second time around.

We cross into the borough and take a shortcut through Brooklyn Heights on our way to Bell Parkway. The highway saves us time, but we’re still forty-five minutes away from our destination, an upscale bar called Sergei’s, owned by Boris’ younger brother. Unlike everyone else in Volkov’s extended family, Sergei didn’t follow in their father’s footsteps, preferring to live a comfortable, crime-free life with his family in the old neighborhood. But he’ll never be truly free. You never stop looking over your shoulder when you’re tied to the bratva.

I told Boris I wanted to meet on neutral ground. This must be his pathetic attempt at appeasing my request while keeping his advantage. He hasn’t changed a bit.

Few people know of my former affiliation with the Volkov family. I operated from the shadows, maintained anonymity, and never paid for my crimes. I shed those shackles when I walked away from that world, taking my younger brothers with me. Together we reemerged as entrepreneurs specializing in security and surveillance, cashing in on the many skills we learned as bratva assassins and fixers.

Vadim, Viktor, and I pooled our resources and went into business for ourselves. It took two years to make a profit, but eventually, our work paid off. Fortunately, we secured government contracts and international clients who pay top dollar. We’re not a household name, but the kind of people who need our services know how to find us.

“What do you suppose he wants?” Olav drops his speed as we approach Brighton Beach Avenue, minutes from our destination.

“I have no idea. Boris wouldn’t share details over the phone. He’s just as paranoid as always.” I roll my eyes and check my messages, hoping he’s had a change of heart, and decided to call someone else. We haven’t done business in so long. I don’t know why he’d trust me with anything important. Men like Volkov believe they can procure anything they need with the right amount of money. They typically do. But I don’t need his money. I’ve got plenty of my own.

“I don’t think you’ll have to wait too long to find out,” Olav offers a few words of comfort before exiting the vehicle to open my door. He’s always been more of a bodyguard than a driver, and since I was only allowed to bring one man with me, I chose the biggest, burliest bastard I know.

“You’re right. Boris doesn’t fuck around with words. Let’s hope he makes this quick.” I straighten my jacket, adjust my cuff links and lead Olav past Volkov’s men into Sergei’s.

Twenty minutes later, I’m sipping vodka and staring into the somber gaze of my childhood friend. My brows pulled low and ripe with judgment. “What do you mean Vivienne’s gone missing? Your daughter?” My hackles rise. She can’t be more than twenty, and he doesn’t look nearly as panicked as he should be. The streets are overrun with his enemies. Anyone could have gotten to her.

There’s something he’s not telling me. Boris has a special place in his heart for his only daughter. Unlike his son, Vasily, she’s a sweet girl, too innocent for her fucked-up family and too trusting to survive among wolves. If this is true, she needs all the help she can get.

We never met. In my previous profession, I kept to the shadows and never mingled with members of the boss’s family. I only met Vasily when he was old enough to join his father’s ranks. But I watched her from a distance and worried she’d never reach adulthood. Volkov had the same concerns. He kept his prized jewel sheltered and guarded by a team of bodyguards, only allowing her to leave the house to attend school. Maybe she finally got tired of living in a cage.

Boris nods, then leans forward, elbows propped on the table as he sucks in a shaky breath. “We had a fight. She accused me of planning to marry her off. I promised her that wasn’t true, but she didn’t believe me.”

A quick stream of unpleasant memories floods my brain, remembering Boris' arrangement, his horrible marriage, and the messy divorce that followed. I let out a soft chuckle and ask, “Where did she get that idea? I’m sure someone as lovely as Vivienne had a ton of offers, but I hope you wouldn’t do that to her.”

He immediately defends himself. “Of course not. I wouldn’t put either of my children through that. It never works out. I think her mother got to her. She’s always tried to drive a wedge between us.”

My confusion sets in. Vivienne’s mother, a woman named Charlotte Pinkerton, dated Boris briefly after his divorce. She was utterly horrible and disappeared shortly after their heated affair—after she set his car on fire. He swore he wouldn’t chase her down and stayed away until he discovered she’d given birth to his daughter. He refused to let her cut him out of her life, and she happily relinquished custody of her daughter for a lump sum. I was under the impression she was still living a life of leisure in the south of France. “When the hell did Charlotte come back into her life?”

Boris grimaces, his mouth set in a thin line as he inhales half his glass of vodka. “When she was eighteen, she asked me if she could visit her mother. Of course, I was against it, but I couldn't keep my daughter from her mother. Unfortunately, Charlotte managed to worm her way back into Vivienne’s life, pretending to be a doting mother. I don’t know what happened or how she came to this conclusion, but days after her twenty-second birthday party, she disappeared and left nothing but a note demanding I leave her alone.” He hangs his head and shakes it with remorse. “It’s not a coincidence that Charlotte was in town when she disappeared. But I know she’s not with her. I’ve had her followed nonstop since Vivi left.”

“Twenty-two? When did she grow up? She was a gangly teenager the last time I saw her.” I make a motion with my hand, implying she’s only knee-high.

“Time flies. My little girl is a woman but still vulnerable, Andrei. I need to find her.” He scrubs his salt-and-pepper beard, rubbing his jaw to alleviate the tension from clenching his teeth.

I shift in my seat and cross my arms over my chest, still confused why he’s asked to see me. “Why am I here, Boris?”

He looks over his shoulder and clears his throat before dropping the volume of his voice. "I came to you because this is your area of expertise. And I trust you. Plus, Vivienne will be on the lookout for my men. She’ll be looking over her shoulder for the usual suspects, but she doesn’t know you. You can operate incognito and make sure she’s safe.”

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