Page 21 of The Payback

“I’m sure Elsa isn’t interested in the details of our work,” Nik counters, and I sense the argument brewing within him.

She straightens and looks him dead in the eye. “You’re right; I’m not. I’ll just go get ready for the day.” She turns to me, finding me closer than I’d been seconds ago, my body gravitating towards hers without thought. “What are we doing today?”

Stroking a hand from the crown of her head down through the mussed tendrils of her hair, I say, “I have meetings most of today, so unfortunately, nothing together until later.”

I grin lasciviously for our audience. “But I prefer white lace, so bear that in mind.”

Her cheeks go pink, and Sergei clears his throat. “I arranged high tea for you and my daughter at the Ritz today at four o’clock. It would be good to meet the other women.”

Elsa thanks Sergei and excuses herself from the kitchen. As she walks away, my gaze follows her, admiring the sway of her hips under my shirt. When I catch Nik watching as intently as I am, I smack my palm on the countertop, reopening the freshly dressed wound. The blood begins anew, but I care less about that than I do about bringing Nik’s attention back to me and off my wife.

“Where are we on the latest shipments?”

“Coming in next week. All accounted for and fetching a pretty penny,” Sergei says.

“And the NYPD?”

Nik fields this one. “All paid off, and the twins are working on getting more under our thumb. They found enough blackmail material on three to convert a few more.”

Ivan and Aleksandr Golubev work for me directly, and I’ve had them keeping tabs on Sergei as they do his bidding, reporting everything to me. Our opposition calls them the twin Russian tanks because of their large stature and ability to make anyone quake in their boots. But for huge motherfuckers, they’re surprisingly sneaky.

As the next in line forpakhan, Sergei is my number one threat.

No matter how many assassination attempts there have been in the last few years by cartels, the Irish mob, the Italian Mafia, or hell, even the US government, he is both my biggest asset and greatest rival.

When Nik rejoined the ranks after his time at Interpol, his natural fit was as my live-in bodyguard. All the other significant roles had been taken, so it made sense. But when Sergei suggested it, I rejected the idea.

Nik and Sergei are close; it was just another way for him to keep tabs on me while acting in the organisation’s best interest. Maybe Sergei knows he put my father’s murderer under my roof, and his plan for me involves the same end.

“Very well, then,” I say. “Let’s get down to business.”

CHAPTERNINE

Eleanor

I scurryupstairs when the men wrap up their morning chat, the burner phone tucked into my bra and recording their entire conversation. Still, nothing of use other than the mention of a shipment and dirty cops.

Heavy footfalls sound as the men push through the kitchen doors, and I race through the door to the main suite. The lift dings downstairs, the way it did when Sergei arrived, and I staged my “morning after wake-up” and made my appearance.

Shaking out my limbs, I let the tension seep out from that hidden place within and somehow relax as it settles on my shoulders. It scares me how easy it is to lose myself in Elsa.

A phone dings from somewhere in the bedroom, and I wander through the suite to find it. On my nightstand, I find a brand-new iPhone with a sticky note that doesn’t belong to me.

1-2-3-4

I lift it, and the screen glows and unlocks when I type in the simple code. There’s a message waiting, and I click it open.

Husband:Tea at the Ritz at 4. Don’t forget. A car will be waiting for you downstairs at 3:30. The driver will NOT be Alexei. And change the lock code to something you’ll remember.

I try not to be impressed at his consideration that I might be uncomfortable around his driver, but I fail. Quickly hopping into the settings, I change the password to Olivia’s birthday before returning to the message.

Me:What’s the name of the woman I’m meeting? I don’t want to look like an asshole on the first day.

Sergei has two daughters, and I don’t want to assume anything. His response comes immediately, terse in delivery but informative.

Husband:Anastasia. Aleksandr Golubev’s wife and Sergei’s daughter.

Me:Got it.

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