Page 26 of Tangled Vows

“Again, not a problem,” Rurik maintains. “Major carmakers like BMW can switch car engines on and off remotely. All they need is engine configuration and car specs. It might take a professional hacker some time to bypass the carmaker’s firewalls, but I have no doubt they’ll do it in the end.”

Leonid snorts in derision and looks away from the TV. “So, they turned on the engine and gained control of everything they needed.”

Rurik rolls his shoulders, turning his head to face him. “Pretty much.”

Ivan stares at the TV in silence, his face hardening for some reason I can’t understand. He sets off, not taking his eyes off the little man as he fishes into his sports bag again. He then pulls out a small, black object and leans over. Rurik chooses that moment to hit the “pause” button on the remote.

Something is clearing eating away at Ivan, no matter the thorough answers he’s gotten from their associate so far. “The Armenians? Hacking into car computers?” he says, shifting his attention to Leonid. “Just when the fuck did they become so sophisticated?”

“They’re not?” I squint up at him first before doing the same to Leonid.

“Not really.” Leonid shakes his head. “The Armenians are good at kicking in doors and bashing heads. They’re not so famous for using high-tech to get things done.”

“Who knows? Maybe they decided to move with the times,” Rurik says, causing his two associates to glare at him.

“How old are you again?” Ivan asks, anger sending his voice two octaves down.

“Twenty-three.”

“Right,” he grumbles, stepping closer to him. “You’re too young and too inexperienced to know the Armenians’ methods. Believe me, Rurik. Those motherfuckers are as primitive as they come. You want a bar destroyed? Someone’s skull caved in? You call the Armenians. For the right price, they’ll do whatever sick thing you have in mind.”

“Ivan’s right, Rurik,” Leonid affirms, maintaining the cool in his voice. “This whole thing seems too sophisticated for the Armenians to have planned it. But...” He pauses and draws in a sharp breath. “They’re the only ones with motive. We can’t overlook that.”

“Which brings us to the work you and I have to do,” Ivan goes on, his voice returning to normal. “Clare, your bedroom is upstairs. I hope you like it. If there’s anything else you need, don’t be afraid to ask, okay?”

“Okay,” I nod in agreement. “It’s a good thing we’re not far from the city. I won’t have to wait long before you guys get here.”

“That’s true,” Leonid says, stroking my shoulder for a moment. He steps back as Ivan and Rurik make their way out of the house. “I’ll see you soon, little one.” He heads out as well, leaving me alone with my thoughts and emotions.

I don’t spend another minute in that living room. I climb the stairs, spotting two rooms to my right. My bedroom is spacious, bathed in glorious sunlight. White curtains are being blown aside by the breeze. There’s a purple duvet on a huge bed and a closet in the corner.

One look into that is enough to let me know they’ve spent quite a lot of money. I see dresses, blouses, jeans, leggings, and a few sweaters. I turn away and pad over to the window. Leonid and Ivan are striding alongside each other, their voices inaudible from where I stand. They only split when Leonid rounds the front of a black Mercedes and walks up to the driver’s door.

Mixed sensations of sadness and fear leak into my gut. I don’t know when I’ll see them again. The notion of going out on a date seems a bit silly. Those two are going on a manhunt. They’re going to hunt down whoever it was that tried to kill me and Leonid. And while I’m optimistic, I can’t help being afraid.

They’ll be up against members of the underworld, people with itchy trigger fingers, who would kill them without batting an eye.

Chapter Thirteen

Leonid

I took some time to reflect on Ivan’s statements when we left Surfside.

I agreed with him.

The Armenians I’ve known for more than a decade are not capable or even willing to get into high tech. They’re not dumb; they’re just old fashioned. They believe in the power of the old ways and refuse to use anything new. So, the scenario of them sabotaging my car by hacking into it sounds far fetched.

I could think of a way for them to blow me and Clare to pieces. They would ambush me somewhere outside the city. No witnesses; those can pose issues. They would wait for me to come close enough and use a rocket launcher. Yes, this would be a pretty sensational event. It would draw a lot of media attention and cause quite a buzz around the city, but the Armenians don’t mind that. They have no problem being in the spotlight; some of them enjoy that. That’s why so many of their people are in prison. Because they’re stupid enough to do something that crazy, without considering the consequences.

In spite of my suspicion, though, there’s not much we can do. To me, they’re butt-hurt about losing those women, and it’s enough motive to make them seek retaliation. Perhaps they think that blowing me to pieces would be a proper response to their loss.

While I was recovering in the hospital, Ivan mentioned that the Bratva had been trying to find more information about the bombing. My organization had even been considering kidnapping some high-ranking members of the Armenians, but had had no luck so far. They’re too well-guarded for anyone to consider snatching them. Tonight, four of my men, my brother, and I will try to change that.

We’re in Key Biscayne, near a mansion of an Armenian captain, Hrach Kevorkian. My boys have been staking him out for the past four days, watching his house from a safe distance away. According to them, there’s just one thing he does without his men following him around: walking his tiny dog to a nearby grove in the dead of night. So, we’ve parked at the far end of that grove. Dmitri and Vasiliy are outside, watching the mansion through binoculars, while Boris, Vladimir, Ivan and I are waiting for their signal in a white van.

“You shouldn’t be here tonight,” Ivan says, fidgeting in his seat. “I get it; they came after you and you’re pissed at them, but—”

“What would you do if you were me?” I interrupt him. “If you thought you were going to spend the night with a beautiful lady but ended up in a hospital bed fighting for your life?”

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