Page 65 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

“Well, there’s the daughter. Rumors were already circulating that it wasn’t her body the cops identified at Dalton, but a cousin’s, or something like that. No one’s seen her since, though. Someone claimed they spotted her up north around Chappaqua, but nothing was ever confirmed.”

“Who else?” Mills asks.

“The grandma, Zoya Asimova. When Paul took over the family, Granny stuck around for a few more months, then completely retired from the family business,” Shane says. “Nobody except her closest kin knows where she moved.”

“Word on the street?” I wonder aloud, fully aware this twenty-something gangster-turned-informant did a great job of keeping his ear to the ground for the cops, otherwise Mills wouldn’t have agreed to protect him.

Shane gives me a wry smile. “Word on the street is Zoya’s been living it up somewhere north of the city. Again, Chappaqua popped up once or twice. As soon as tensions rose between the Sokolovs and the Asimovs, the old lady made sure to wipe away any trace of herself. I know she’s got some high-level security keeping her hidden, but I also know Leo is determined to find her and whack her. Not just the daughter.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Leo doesn’t have the full support of the other families unless it’s confirmed that every Asimov is dead,” Shane says. “That’s the trouble with old-money Russians. They know how vindictive the survivors can be. The last thing any clan would want is to side with the Sokolovs, only for Anya or Zoya to return with just enough firepower to reclaim even a fifth of their turf. The syndicate boys are loyal. They’re scattered now, but if either of the Asimov ladies comes back, it’ll be a whole different story.”

“And the other families within the Bratva might end up siding with them instead of the Sokolovs.” Mills reaches a conclusion similar to mine.

“Yeah. And they might turn their back on Leo, too,” Shane replies. “He’s so adamant about wiping out every Asimov. Sooner rather than later.”

I nod slowly, trying to wrap my head around this new information. “What do you know about the Asimovs’ enforcers? You said they’re scattered?”

“Those who survived, yes. Leo’s been putting out hits on each and every one of them, but he hasn’t been as successful as he hoped. That only pissed him off more. He sent his brother out to find Anya; that’s what I heard.”

“Max is off the game board,” I tell Shane.

“Ah, that makes sense.” Shane frowns. “Before I left New York, I had one last chat with one of my people in Hell’s Kitchen. They said Leo Sokolov flew out of the city yesterday morning. I figured it had to be serious. He wouldn’t leave at such a delicate time for his syndicate and the Bratva, not with the persistent rumors of Asimov survivors, anyway.”

Shit. He’s looking for Max most likely.

I give Mills a worried look. “What does this mean for us?”

“I’m not sure. We did our due diligence,” the sheriff replies. “In fact, I specifically remember you going the extra mile and breaking a few more laws in the process. Technically speaking, Leo Sokolov shouldn’t be able to find Max as quickly as he would’ve under normal circumstances.”

That doesn’t soothe me as much as I’d hoped. “He might follow his credit card trail, he might pass through Seeley Lake.”

“Wait, you said I’d be safe here,” Shane interjects. “If Leo Sokolov comes to town, I’m screwed.”

“Max’s credit card trail leads farther away from here,” Mills insists. “He’s got no reason to stay here very long. He’ll go where Max’s financial footprints end, which is closer to the border.”

I’m still not happy about the possibilities, but Shane seems to relax a little.

“If you keep your head down and your nose clean, you won’t have a problem,” the sheriff tells him. “I’ll give you one of the cells, out of sight. I’ll have one deputy watching your back and assigned to escort you wherever you go. You’ll have access to a secure landline, so you can reach out to your family. And once I’ve got all the paperwork in order, I’ll have you moved into a motel nearby. You’ll be fine, Shane.”

“If you say so. At least I’m not in New York.”

Once Shane is out of the room and settled in one of the single holding cells with a deputy in charge of his well-being, Mills and I head to his office. He offers me a glass of scotch as I take one of the guest seats.

I politely turn it down. “I have to drive back up the mountain.”

“Suit yourself. I’m walking myself home,” Mills grumbles and turns his into a double, then downs it, taking a deep breath as the liquor works its way through him.

“How sure are we that Shane’s intel is accurate?” I ask him.

He gives me a wry smile. “We go back many years, friend. You know me better than this. It’s extremely accurate, or I wouldn’t have bothered with him.”

“I’m not doubtingyourabilities,” I say. “I doubt anything coming out of New York with any connection to the Bratva.”

“Technically speaking, Shane isn’t connected. But I verified every piece of information he fed Perez, and it’s been pretty on point so far. The man has earned his keep. And asking about Anya put him on Sokolov’s hit list, so we’re definitely on to something here. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear.”

I shake my head slowly. “It isn’t.”

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