Page 91 of Of Murder and Matrimony

I laughed humorlessly. “You expect me to believe somebody working for my uncle shot up a church during a wedding when the man paying them was already dead?”

“I can’t explain that,” Adrik admitted, drumming his fingers on the table. “The only thing that makes sense is that your uncle worked with somebody else in my organization. Olesya says you have a mole.”

“What of it?” I asked defensively. Seamus’ brows lifted at the news.

“They’re filtering information to us,” Yuri confirmed. He looked proud of their ability to get a man inside my operation.

“I want a name,” I demanded, punctuating the last word with my fist. I’d spent too much time in the dark, wondering.

“We don’t have one.” Adrik looked at his brother, and something passed between them. “Olesya suspects somebody may want us at war—that they’re using it as a distraction.”

“Do ya have someone in mind?” Seamus interjected, leaning forward with interest.

Yuri’s face hardened. “There’s only one person who knows the informant's name.”

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Adrik added, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone and sent a message. “But he’s the only one who gives orders to the men other than us.”

Yuri rose from his seat and strode purposefully to the door. “I’ll go get him.”

I waited on edge for him to return, curious whether I’d know the man. I wasn’t familiar with those in the Bratva; didn’t bother to learn the names of all their brigadiers. I figured it had to be one of them if they were directing soldiers.

A couple of minutes later, I heard voices in the hall. Yuri opened the door and walked in with a bulky, bald man at his side. He must have been at least five years older than the brothers, if not a decade.

Adrik motioned to the chair next to Yuri’s. “Have a seat, Ilya.”

I froze, zeroing in on the newcomer’s face. Ilya was the man who had threatened my wife. He’d tried to rape her. I’d promised her I would kill him. I made up my mind that he would not leave the room alive.

“What is this party?” Ilya said, his accent thick enough to indicate he’d spent years in Russia.

“I think you have some useful information,” Adrik began, smiling disarmingly at his underling.

Ilya sat taller, beaming smugly at the rest of us. “Of course. Whatever I can do to help, cousin.”

So that was the connection. Ilya seemed to want us all to recognize how closely he was connected with the Zolotov brothers. How helpful. It made his desire to encroach on their leadership more believable. He would likely be next in line to take over if we killed Adrik and Yuri.

Adrik inclined his head toward me. “Mr. Neretti would like the name of your contact within his organization.”

“I think you mean his father’s organization.” Ilya had some nerve, trying to remind me of my place.

“I don’t see my father sitting at this table, do you?” I motioned to the men filling the seats. “I am the only Neretti in charge here.”

Ilya’s confidence faltered. “I-I don’t have a name.”

“Bullshit.” The man was lying through his teeth, and I was impatient for the truth so I could get on with killing him.

“It’s true.” His voice wavered with the falsehood. “I contacted him through text mostly, and if we met in person, he wore a hood, so I couldn’t see his face.”

“You trusted intel from somebody with an unconfirmed identity?” Yuri clicked his tongue. “That seems like sloppy recon.”

“I dropped information in your lap countless times,” Ilya hissed, his disdain for the brothers breaking through his mask. “You would know nothing without me.”

“That seems convenient, doesn’t it?” Adrik asked Yuri.

His brother nodded. “It does. Almost as if you were trying to filter what got to us.”

They were playing with their cousin now, circling him like a pair of wolves, but he was too affronted to notice. Adrik tapped his fingers against his chin. “I find it odd that your contact didn’t have insight into the explosion that killed Mr. Neretti’s mother.”

“Or the faction of men working for Giuseppe,” Yuri added.

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