Page 58 of Tattooed Vow

He swallows hard. “How did you find me?”

“I followed the ambulance.” I move closer, standing at the foot of his bed. “But I think the better question is why you thought it wise to meet with Sandy behind my back.”

Nick's eyes dart to the call button near his hand. I reach over and unplug it from the wall.

“We won't be disturbed,” I say quietly. “Now talk.”

“It was Morozov's men,” he blurts out. “They're the ones who shot me.”

I don’t react, my face remaining as impassive as carved stone, though inside, fury burned white-hot. Not at the confirmation. I already knew the Butcher's thugs were responsible. But with Nick's carelessness.

“You're lucky I got there when I did,” I say. “When we saw Morozov's thugs approaching the coffee shop, we intervened. Another minute and you'd be in the morgue instead of this hospital bed.”

Nick's breathing quickens. “I didn't mean for it to go down like that.”

“No?” A silent warning burns in my eyes, and Nick shrinks back against his pillows. “Let me be clear, Nick. If Sandy had gotten hurt because you lured her to that coffee shop saying you had information about Morozov, I would have killed you myself. Slowly.”

“I was trying to warn her!” he protests. “To warn both of you!”

“Speak.” The single word carries the finality of a death sentence if he fails to convince me.

Nick licks his dry lips. “The guy you and Aleksandr think is your inside man in Morozov's operation—he's actually working for the Butcher.”

The news hits me like a blow to the gut, but nothing changes in my expression. If true, this means our intelligence network has been compromised.

“Explain.”

“He's been feeding you false information. The Red Hook operation—it's a trap.” Nick's voice drops to a whisper. “The Butcher knows you're coming. He's planning to lure you there based on the intel from your 'inside man,' and while you're occupied, he's going to grab Sandy.”

My fingers grip the metal rail of the hospital bed. “And you know this how?”

“I overheard them at the restaurant. I was closing up late, and they came in after hours, didn't realize I was still there.” Nick's voice breaks. “The Butcher said he was going to kill her slowly and send you the video. He wants you to suffer before he takes you out.”

Cold fury settles in my chest, crystallizing into something deadly. I pull out my phone and dial Aleksandr.

“Brat?” His voice is steady even with the day’s chaos and the stench of betrayal hanging over the Bratva.

“The Red Hook operation is compromised. Our inside man is a mole.” I speak in rapid Russian, summarizing what Nick has told me.

Aleksandr curses. “Call off Red Hook. Get everyone back to base. We need a new approach.”

“Done.” I end the call and turn back to Nick, who is watching me with desperate eyes.

“Dimitri, please. You have to help me.”

“Help you?” I raise an eyebrow. “After you endangered Sandy?”

“The Butcher will kill me when he finds out I warned you!” Nick's voice rises in panic. “I can never pay off my gambling debts to him—he doesn't want money anymore. He wants me to keep being his eyes and ears, feeding him information about people who come to the restaurant and doing jobs for him. I don't want to work for Morozov anymore. I want out.”

I study him silently, measuring his value against his mistake. Nick’s gambling has been his downfall, but he has proven useful tonight.

“If what you've told me is accurate,” I finally say, “and if you help us find a way to get to the Butcher, I will consider arranging a new identity for you. Somewhere far from New York.”

Hope flickers in his eyes. “I'll do anything.”

“Good. Because first, we need to move you. Morozov will have people looking for you to finish the job.” I pull out my phone again and call Lev.

“I need a private room arranged under a different name. Fourth floor of Brooklyn Methodist. And I need two men stationed outside the door, around the clock.”

---