Page 45 of Unexpected Redemption

Boss approaches the whiteboard, scanning the details plastered across it. “Who is this Alexei Bugrov? What do we know about him?”

Klein takes this one. “We’re still digging, but so far, we know he’s a Russian deli owner in Port Tampa City. He is sixty-two years old.”

Boss rears his head back, mouth puckering like he ate something sour. “That’s it?”

I jump back in. “I’m running a search for news articles, photos, social media, commercials, job history, and anything else we can scrape off the web to put a more complete picture together. Pickings were slim on our first pass. Gonna need some time for that. In the meantime, I don’t recommend waiting. If Yev disappears again, who knows when we’ll find him next.”

Big Al’s audible inhale is accompanied by his patented exhale of displeasure. A gruff rumble that signals how fucking annoyed he is. “Why haven’t we turned Yev’s potential location over to CPD? There’s a warrant for his arrest. They’ll apprehend him immediately.”

Once again, his question was directed at Mia.

My molars scrape and squeak. With each repeated dismissal, it becomes more of a challenge to keep my face impassive.

Sawyer notices this time, catching my eyes and telegraphing a warning at me.

Forcing my jaw to relax, I train my vision on Mia and pretend it’s perfectly normal for him to treat me like I’m the low rung on the ladder instead of the person who helped him build this whole fucking company.

Mia tips her chin upward. “Quite frankly, Boss, we need to interrogate the hell out of Yev. We’ll attempt to do that as painlessly as possible so the cops don’t have to come after us when we turn him over, but we need to know what he knows if we’re ever going to take Lenkov down. With each passing day, we’re realizing Yev isn’t merely a grunt who brings in the girls. He’s more connected than we thought. He isn’t the whole enchilada, but he’s far more than beans and rice. “

I shift my attention to the board. Rather than wait for his decision, I’ll use the time to solve this puzzle in front of me.

Not because it’s a good use of time. But because this entire interaction with Big Al is gutting me. Aside from being humiliating, it’s... fucking heartbreaking.

For most of my adult life, I’ve worshiped this man. Sacrificed everything for him.

I get that he’s mad, and he deserves to be. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.

Boss takes almost no time to decide. “Fine. I’m on board unless your plan to nab him sucks.”

From the corner of my eye, I notice him face me. The heat of his stare burns my cheek.

Wish I was man enough to look him in the eye with my chin raised.

However, I can’t trust my reaction. Will I cry? Rage? Quiver and cower? Beg for his forgiveness?

Who the fuck knows? All are possible outcomes.

I’m not used to having so many emotions pelting me relentlessly. I damn sure haven’t had time to formulate coping skills for managing them.

For the first time today, he addresses me directly. Sadly, his words slice through my heart with surgical precision. “Not that my approval matters since you’re going to do whatever you want anyhow.”Leaving the scalpel lingering between my ribs, he turns his back to me and claps his hands. “Well, I’m not here to paint your toenails. Let’s get to it. Tell me your plan.”

I stand frozen in place for several seconds. Or minutes. Conversation begins or continues, unsure which. Luckily, my back is to the group, so there’s a chance no one will know how thoroughly his words flayed me.

Blinking away the remorse as best as I can, my consciousness returns gradually. Mia and Klein run through our options. With dogged concentration, I affix a figurative mask to shield my emotions.

Finally, I turn from the wall to face the group. Sawyer’s the only one not watching Mia and Klein. He’s watching me. The compassion in his expression is so fucking palpable it cracks my shield almost instantly, creating a fissure down one side.

Has he always been as tuned into me as he is now? Why haven’t I noticed before?

My focus shifts to Shep, who glances at me too. He conveys a silent message of support that’s eerily similar to Sawyer’s. The loyalty he shows me causes another crack in my mask.

I have to look away from them.

When I avert my focus, my eyes catch a shadow near the door and a wisp of blond hair. My feet propel me stealthily across the lair before I register the movement.

One step from the door, her sweet scent hits me, bringing a spark of hope to life. Did she know I was seconds from breaking down? Is it possible she’s here to soothe me?

Taking the last step, I sneak my head out of the doorway. Her face registers her surprise a half-second later, and a gasp escapes past her bow-shaped lips, glossy pink and pillowy soft.

---