Page 70 of Redemption

Ivan Mikhailov rapist

Ivan Mikhailov billionaire

The news made her sick, and sheltered away from the real world, she’d never once attempted to catch a TV show, surf the web, or see what might be found on Ivan. But what she found now said one thing: he was untouchable.

And despite the Delta team raid on his estate and compound, the Russian propaganda news arm made their high-ranking government official sound as if it were a friendly visit. Nothing came of it other than hopefully, he wouldn’t try to start that type ofbusiness ventureup again.

Her career as an investigator led her to believe it would be a tough sell. Would his clients come back? Discretion was surely something they paid dearly for, and he’d not been able to provide that.

Seven’s shoulder hit the door as she tried to push through the usually unlocked front door.

“Whoops, sorry.” Victoria jumped up from her office desk, pushing through the French doors. “Coming.”

A quick unlock of the deadbolt and Seven rushed through the threshold and wrapped her arms around Victoria’s shoulders. “I amneverletting you go.”

She didn’t want her to.

“I have sandwiches next to my purse. On the porch.”

Victoria pushed back. “You have to let go for that.”

As if on cue, her stomach growled. Seven’s pierced eyebrow mocked Victoria before she turned for the front door, calling over her shoulder, “You know I’m going to ask…” Her best friend disappeared, grabbing what she’d left on the white-painted floorboards then joined Victoria back in the kitchen as she pulled plates from the cabinet. “What really happened?”

Victoria let the bright blue plate clatter on the table, even though she knew the question was coming. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do.” Seven tore open the bag and pulled out two sandwiches, tossing them onto the plates in a way that would make anyone hard-pressed to believe she’d successfully taken over the Perky Cup. “Not even in a sicko, voyeuristic way.”

“That’s not true. I know you.”

Hurt registered in her eyes, and damn it, Victoria didn’t mean to say that when she knew Seven had the best intentions.

“No,” Seven spoke softly. “Not when it comes to you. I’ll keep my train-wreck-watching interests to others. You, babe, I want to make sure you’re really okay.”

“I’m not going to tell you, so we’ll have to leave it at that.”

Seven twisted her lips. “Just tell me if you are okay. For real.”

It wasn’t mental pain that caused her heart anguish, though there were bouts of vivid memories that made her pulse panic. What really scared her was her quickly forming obsession, the need to find the son of a bitch who sold her out, the bail-jumper that caused this hell to begin with. Victoria almost itched to push Seven out the door so she could throw herself back into her work. If the jumper had been taken into custody, she’d exact her revenge one day. But the two men in the bar… She wanted to find them, hurt them. She wanted to go back to the Ice House, look the bartender in the eye and—

“Victoria?” Seven broke the spiraling trance of adrenaline-fueled anger. “Are you okay? Then, now?”

“No.” An acidic taste coated her tongue, and Victoria inhaled, letting her nostrils flare, calming her heartbeat. “Not at all.”

Seven assessed the physical reaction, and clearly, it was visible, but she had her own demons. Victoria never pressed her on those and let her self-medicate in her own way, whether it be bright hair and piercings, or wild nights with Mayhem that neither of them would talk about. “What do you want more? A hug or a hoagie?”

Victoria pondered the options and decided that food won. “Hoagie.”

“Atta girl.” Seven went about unwrapping the sandwiches then grabbed paper towels off the counter. “Now, the question no one has been able to answer…”

Damn it.Seven wasn’t going to let it go, might even point blank ask if she’d been raped. Everyone would assume, but she didn’t want to say it. “Get it over with.”

“Do you know who abducted you?”

“You bet your ass I do.”

“And what are we going to do about it?”

“Weare going to do nothing.”

---