Page 79 of His Coveted Obsession

“This is about my boyfriend, Thomas. His father is a piece of shit gambling addict. When he got in over his head, they took his kids as payment. Now they’re demanding half a million dollars for their return, but we all know he doesn’t have that kind of money.” I slammed my fist on the table. “I want these people hunted down and fucking killed! Thomas belongs to me!”

“I wonder how they knew about his two kids,” Dalton said. “This is a game to these people. They use people like Thomas’s father and their addiction against them with promises of more. Sometimes, they win just to give you a taste of what’s to come, and the glory of winning so much money, but instead of winning more, they get so deep in debt, they drown in it. His kids were probably treated as collateral.”

I perked up, ready for my murderous rampage, seeing that red again. “He put his kids up as collateral?”

Dalton held up his hand to calm me. “No, Easton. I doubt it. They did it without his knowledge, especially if he’s got nothing left to pawn. When he can’t pay, they take his kids and will sell them on the black market. They give him a chance to pay them back, but they ratchet up the price, so it’s nearly impossible. They may even let him bet again for a chance to win his kids back. When he fails, which he will, the kids will be sold.”

“Then we need to hurry!” I demanded.

“There’s time,” Malik said. “We need information and to organize. Even if they do get sold, we can probably track them.”

Layla had her laptop booted up and took a sip of her coffee. “Do you have any names? Any information at all that will direct us where to go?”

“Yes, I threatened Thomas’s father. He said he’d been working with Gregory Ivanov.”

“See what the FBI has on him, Layla,” Dalton suggested.

She typed away, chewing on her bottom lip as her large glasses slid down her nose. “Okay, here are the basics, but I’m sure there’s more when we dig deep. Gregory Ivanov, forty-one years old, six-foot-four, unknown weight, came to the U.S. fromthe poor town of Buryatia back in 1998 when he was fifteen. It appears his family was shipped here by the Bratva. If his family was poor, they were probably recruited or forced into the mob. They will pay families to come to the U.S. and force them to work to pay off their debts. Ivanov began with petty crimes and theft, and eventually progressed to more serious endeavors when he started organizing underground fighting and races. He’s not a top dog within the Bratva, but he’s paid well. He not only makes them money through betting, but he also manipulates addicts into doing more than their conscience would otherwise allow them to do. Some get recruited into the ‘family,’ but if they can’t pay and there’s no collateral, the victims usually end up tortured and killed, unless they have something of value. Like if a woman is young and pretty enough, she can prostitute for them.”

“Where? We need a place,” I demanded.

She was unfazed by my outburst as she typed away on her keyboard. “This is going to take some digging. The FBI doesn’t have any known recent locations for him. His last place of residence was in Richmond, Virginia, and that was six years ago. Currently, he’s off their radar for now.”

We all waited as she worked her magic. There was nothing we could do until we found him and where they were keeping Thomas and Annie.

“Okay, got it. He’s got a large home in Potomac, Maryland, on a five-acre wooded lot.”

Sid shook his head. “He’s not going to keep kidnapped children in his home.”

Layla nodded. “You got it. He lives there, apparently, with his wife and two sons.”

“Is there anything else he owns? A warehouse of some sort? A safehouse?” Malik asked.

She continued to click away on your keyboard and nodded. “I’ve tied the real estate company that sold him his house to commercial properties. Digging deeper, this company has ties to the Bratva. The business is probably used more to funnel money through and launder it. However, there is one building that could be his, but the owner’s name on it isn’t Gregory Ivanov; it’s Ivan Grekov. That could be him. Most likely.”

“What’s the building? Where is it? Can it hold prisoners?” I asked in rapid fire. “Just point me in the damn direction!”

She narrowed her eyes at me before typing again. “It’s in Washington, on 8th Street. It’s a 48,000-square-foot industrial building used for storage. There’s not much else around it. The highway is behind it, and flanking the building are other industrial buildings, both of which are abandoned. Perfect for what they do. It’s isolated.”

“What’s the security like?” Maverick asked, speaking for the first time.

“If they’re housing stolen kids, it’s going to be high. It will take more digging. I should have it all hacked before you go, as long as it’s on Wi-Fi. I can’t currently access a satellite to scan the area, but I’m sure there will be guards.”

Malik nodded and stood. “We’ll have to improvise on this. We go in with caution. Do not rush. Maverick, work with Layla to find some high ground if you need to take out some guards quietly. Khai, you maintain the perimeter and be Maverick’s eyes on areas he can’t see.”

Both men looked at each other before nodding.

“Please tell me you’re sending me in. It’s been a while since I played,” Sully said.

“This is Easton’s call on who is his partner.”

Now that we had a plan and Malik had allowed me to choose my partner, I breathed a little easier. The rage dissipated, and I was focused on getting Thomas out.

I nodded at Sully. “You can come with me, but no playing until we find Thomas and Annie. After that, you can do what you want.”

His smile was broad, and his entire face lit up. “Done.”

Malik nodded to Sid and Dalton. “Please be the ears for Easton and Sully. I would also like Dante to go with you, Easton. We do not know how many people are inside. Dante is very good at infiltrating. He can be an extra pair of eyes.”

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