Page 53 of Surprise Quadruplets for the Mob

“What kind of problems?”

He slides an oversized, padded envelope across my desk. “I’ve finished analyzing the zip drive we got from that scammer in the warehouse, and, well, you’re not going to like what I’ve found.”

I already don’t like the sound of this. “What is it?” I start to open the envelope without waiting for an answer, my jaw clenching as my mind races with possibilities.

“There are pictures,” he begins, measuring each word carefully as several photos slide out onto my desk. “Of Abby. There’s data, too, and…”

His voice fades out as I focus on the photos in front of me. There’s Abby smiling with Booker, his arm around her like they’re old friends. There’s another where they’re both at the hospital together and he’s giving a thumbs up, and another where they’re speaking to a doctor.

“What is this?” I growl, a pit growing in my stomach. “What the fuck am I looking at? Why is she with Booker in so many of these pictures?”

Alyosha swallows hard, no doubt seeing the flash of rage that’s starting to build inside me. “They’re, uh, well, I think you should also take a look at the reports. The information we’ve gathered from the servers point to Abby and Booker collaborating. Siphoning money. Together.”

“No.” I shake my head without bothering to look at anything else. My gaze locks onto Alyosha. “That’s not possible. Abby isn’t a scammer. I refuse to believe it.” I shove the envelope toward him. “Get this shit away from me and get the hell out of here.”

He gathers everything up and takes a step back, but doesn’t turn to leave. I’ve never wanted to hit something so badly in mylife, so he’s in a very, very dangerous spot right now. Alyosha isn’t an idiot, so that can only mean one thing.

“What else is there?” I grumble, almost afraid to ask. “That’s why you’re still here, right? There’s more? If there are more pictures, I don’t want to see them.”

He shakes his head, shifting from one foot to the other as he looks through the envelope and pulls out another sheet of paper to slide across to me. “No more pictures.”

“The fuck is this?” I pick up the paper and the first thing that stands out to me are the letters DNA. “You’d better start explaining, because I’m not in the mood for guessing games right now.”

“Your father,” he pauses to clear his throat, “requested a DNA test. For the babies.”

“Wait,” I say, bringing a palm up as if the motion alone could stop time and give me a second to process. “Wait a fucking second. Myfather?”

“Yes.”

“The man who’s been off in Russia the past five months on some secret fucking mission, who has cut all communication with us save for a fortnightly check in for safety reasons… That man knows about Abby and the kids?”

Alyosha clears his throat. “Uh, yes…” he draws out, his eyes darting to the side with a guilty squint. “That may have been my fault.”

“Howthe fuck, exactly?”

“Last week,” he says hesitantly, “when you had me be the one to take his call so I could finally give him a briefing on the digital side of things. I, uh, may have mentioned…”

“Alyosha,” I interrupt through clenched teeth, doing my absolute best to keep my temper in check. “It’s supposed to be a minute long call, a quick fucking update, an overview on the absolute basics so he isn’t completely in the dark.Why the fuck—” I take a quick, sharp breath, pinch the bridge of my nose, and lean back in my chair.

“I’m sorry, boss. I made an innocent comment about his grandchildren, I thought he must have already known, and…”

“And now he’s interrogated you on all you know about Abby and the babies.”

“Yes…”

“And he thinks the kids aren’t mine.”

“Uh, yes…”

“And you’ve, what, taken a swab from each of my babies while I wasn’t looking, sent it off for processing, and got the results done in the week since you last talked with him?Behind my back,no less.”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, before clasping both his hands before him. “I was just following orders.”

If my father, ourpakhan,is giving orders behind my back from the other side of the globe, it can only mean he’s suspicious and doesn’t trust me to make the right decisions.

“Fuck,” I growl, waving the paper. “What does it say? I’m not going to read this. I want to hear it from you.”

The color drains from Alyosha’s face as he takes the paper from me and starts rattling off a bunch of numbers and percentages and words I’m only half absorbing, until he says; “What it means is there’s basically zero chance the babies are yours.” He takes another step toward the door. “You aren’t the father, boss.”

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