Page 11 of Captive Prize

“You’re saying she was behind the attack on the estate? The one that almost killed Viktoria?” Artem demanded, his gun already in his hand, like he could just walk into the next room and find her waiting to be executed.

“No,” I said, again lying to my family about this woman, not knowing why.

Over the years, I had learned to follow my instincts, and that was what I was going to do, even if I didn’t understand it.

“I believe all the blame for those…circumstances rests with Solovyov in his grave. Those debts have been settled. I’m suggesting that she may have been behind his desire to come to the States, and she may have been the one paying for the Colombians that he was using.”

My cousins all stared at me, their eyes narrowed, their jaws locked.

They didn’t trust me.

Of course, they didn’t really trust me. None of them thought of me as one of them.

To them, I was just the cousin that you didn’t call unless you had to. The outsider who was only allowed to stay because of my skills. I was the Ivanov family’s personal boogeyman.

After all, I didn’t look like them. I was just as big, just as tall, with maybe even a little more muscle packed onto my thick frame. But where they were all light as snow with light eyes and a wealthy Russian education and upbringing, I wasn’t.

I didn’t talk like them, think like them, and I certainly didn’t look like them. Their own grandmother—the woman who loved them unconditionally, cooked for them, took care of them—called me Satan.

To them, I must have been the devil himself, a tool to be used to strike fear in the hearts of others but not a man to be trusted like family. Regardless of how much Ivanov DNA ran through my veins.

I picked up Gregor’s glass, dumping the rest of his coffee into Artem’s cup before pouring a finger of the Havana Club Máximo Limited Edition rum I kept in the flask at my hip.

Even my flask set us apart. Engraved with the Cuban flag, it was found among my mother’s possessions. I liked to pretend it was my grandfather’s, but I honestly had no idea. It was still a reminder to my cousins—but mostly to myself—that my heritage was more than just Russian.

“So then why does she have Pavel?” Gregor asked as I took a long drink from the cup, savoring the way the smoky aged rum burned in my throat with a mix of vanilla and a satisfying spicy finish.

“That I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care.”

“What do you mean, you don’t care?” Artem stood and took a threatening step toward me.

I raised my eyebrow at him, wondering how far he would take this.

That was the problem with having your very own boogeyman. Eventually, you started believing the rumors.

I still recognized Artem and Gregor’s authority. But that didn’t mean I was a lackey. And I would not be treated as such. If they wouldn’t love and respect me as family, they would respect me out of fear.

“I don’t care why she has him. I care that she has him. My focus isn’t to decipher the motivation and whims of some mafia princess with a vendetta. I’m focused on getting Pavel back to his wife and unborn child. Then and only then will we deal with whatever delusions have her targeting our family. That is more your department, cousins.”

“So, how do we get him back?” Kostya said, putting his hand on Artem’s shoulder, a rare comforting gesture. One I recognized but had rarely received.

Perhaps Pavel’s kidnapping was affecting my cousin more than I thought. Perhaps I underestimated Artem’s compassion for family.

“Don’t worry,” I said, giving them a wicked grin that usually struck fear in the hearts of others. “I have a plan. I’m going to infiltrateLos Infideles.”

Finally, my “Satan” DNA would be worth something to the Ivanovs.

CHAPTER 5

ZOYA

"Who the hell is he?" I demanded, staring at the out-of-place stranger in the expensive suit.

I’d just walked into the concrete room holding my prisoner.

I hated this dirty little basement room under the warehouse. It always reeked of sweat, desperation, and bodily fluids. Today was no different.

The second I stepped through the door, all the men stopped and stared. Some were nervous around me, others were pissed they were taking orders from a woman, but none were stupid enough to say anything about it.

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