Page 103 of The Payback

Valentina and Maria come flouncing back to the bar, giving high-fives along the way and accepting accolades from the audience. Steve saunters up, eyes locked on Maria.

“I’m off at one. Any chance I can buy you a drink then?”

Valentina rolls her eyes, but Maria nods eagerly. “That’d be perfect.”

My brows rise that she would flirt so openly in front of her bodyguard when I know for a fact that she’s married, but I seem to be the only one surprised at this. Maxim is staring at her with heat in his gaze, his eyes shifting to Steve and assessing him.

Ana leans in, whispering in my ear, “Her bodyguard likes to watch, and her husband is on a job for the next six months in Moscow. Can’t expect a girl to sit at home and just wait, can you?”

I look at Nik.I guess not.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT

Eleanor

After my fourthrewatch of the night out with Ana, Valentina, and Maria, I’m ready to pull out my hair. And if I have to listen to their rendition of “You’re the One That I Want” one more time, I will throw this laptop over the balcony.

Like she can sense my brewing anger, the phone beside me in the closet pings with a text from Olivia.

“Perfect!”

I snatch it up, finding a quick message about how everything is still fine, everyone is still alive, and Bella is not only the princess of her bouncy castle but the whole damn house.

I smother a laugh and press the call button.

“Hey, girl. Hey!” she cheers into the phone. “Isn’t it like five a.m. for you?”

“Yes, it is, and it sucks. But that’s life, I guess. Reviewing things and going through things fifty million times, all because one fucking neuron fired and then it went dead. So, I’m trying to resuscitate it.” Rambling is my forte when I’m frustrated, so I clamp my lips together and try to stem the flow.

“Do you want to talk it out?” she asks, being the godsend she is and knowing my methods just as well as I do. After all, she was my roommate back in boarding school and listened to me ramble nonstop back then, too. “Roark has Bella, and he’s currently covered in make-up. Oh, and his beard has glitter in it. It’s glorious and weirdly sexy. I’ll send a picture later. Honestly, I don’t think he’s letting her go anytime soon. They’ve bonded, or at least Rory has glommed on like a parasite. I think Bella had her first eye roll the other day when he kept scooping her off the floor to hold her.”

I need that picture. Stat, because imagining the bearded and tattooed Viking-looking man with pink glitter is the stuff of legends.

As for the rest, well... talking it out might be beneficial. I tried with Agent Kim, and he was not as convinced in my ability to sniff out odd behaviour at a dinner or karaoke night.

“I can’t give full details. But we can talk in hypotheticals.”

“Deal,” she says. “Lay it on me. Start from the very beginning, and let’s walk through it.”

I love this woman, and that she never makes me feel weird about my gut instincts. She just supports me, and honestly, women aggressively supporting other women is what this world needs.

I take a deep breath and begin. “Hypothetically... Moves are happening without Dimitri’s consent or order—things he never signed off on and can’t let slide. Girls are being trafficked over in containers, Olivia.”

Thank fuck Dimitri was able to buy out the newest shipment, and together, we facilitated their handover to the American agencies after passing them through a safe house.

As frustrating as it was, Dimitri and Nik were right. There was no way to safely intercept them midjourney without risking them. So this time, at least, the agents had a heads-up they were coming.

Then, I tell Olivia about the Irishman trying to snatch me at the dive bar with Ana, the shooting, the weird conversation with Sergei, then Oksana, and finally, last night’s conversation at the karaoke bar. Not giving names or connections but offering what-ifs and possibilities as I work through the last few months.

“So, what do you think?” I ask when I finally finish the convoluted, twisted tale that even I can’t keep track of.

There’s silence from Olivia, but I hear the click-click of her pen as she spins it in her hand, and it taps against her nails.

“I don’t trust any of them. By the by, how much do we trust your baby daddy? Nikita Lenkov would be my number one suspect for Danil Aslanov’s murder. You know his signature murder method is the ice pick, right?”

“I do, unfortunately. Nothing like knowing half of your daughter’s origin story comes from an ice-pick-wielding Bratva member who has some deep religious and emotional trauma but fucks like he has everything to prove.”

Olivia snorts.

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