Page 14 of Scarlet Promise
“What good is a fucking PI if they don’t do their job?” he says, voice a raw snarl.
“It isn’t the PI’s job to stop anyone. The PI’s job is to give us information. He did,” I mutter. “They’ll be long gone, either under cover or switched vehicles, but Melor’s not going to gallivanting around.”
“So, what do we do?” Demyan asks.
I’m being choked as my throat closes tight. I’m too aware time is limited. My imagination works overtime on horrifying scenarios I can’t bear.
Demyan thumps his hand on the bar. “I asked you something, Ilya.”
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t think he’d go somewhere that would put himself at risk. An arrogant man who sees his own as disposable isn’t going to put himself in the line of fire, so places he owns seem like good options but aren’t. They’ll be somewhere he thinks is clever. Somewhere he thinks is safe.”
That muscle tics harder.
“You think it’d be somewhere quiet, understated. Away from prying eyes and screams?” Demyan frames it as a question, but I know him.
He’s thinking along the same lines I am, but from the look of him, his anger is biting through to the bone.
He likes to poke and prod me. He likes to see what theories I have to measure his against. Sometimes we’re on the same page, and the pieces fall into place. Other times, Demyan hears something different from where he is, and a vital nugget of information clicks into place.
It’s why he’s a brilliant, dangerous—and very respected and feared—pakhan, and I’m not.
But for Alina, I’ll be whatever it fucking takes.
“I have two other locations. There’s an old warehouse he uses. I have a general location, but?—”
“Oleg called me a little while back. Said he once worked a crew years ago unpacking crates for Simonov in West Englewood.”
“Fuck, that’s the area.”
“He gave me the address.” I push a piece of paper to him.
He crosses to pick it up.
“The other place,” he says, “is a fishing cabin he probably brings his latest fucks to in Charles Mound woods.”
“So we need to decide which to check out first.”
Shit.
Demyan eyes me. “They’ll have guards. No pakhan worth anything would leave even a warehouse he no longer currently uses completely abandoned. He might not bring in product, but those places are always useful. Choose the wrong one, and it’s the difference between life and death for Alina.”
I know that. I go to the bar, pour a bourbon, and swallow it down.
“Which do you think we should check out first? What are your thoughts, Ilya?”
I clench the glass and desperately want to pour another to calm my spiking nerves. Instead, I put the glass down. He’s testing me. I feel that in my bones.
It’s almost like he wants me to be wrong so he can have someone to take all his fury, fear and frustration out on. He’s done it before, but not to this extent. Not so personally.
But it’s also a fair question. Which place is best?
“The warehouse is more convenient since it’s in Chicago city limits, and the cabin’s quite a drive.”
“So the warehouse is your thought?”
I shoot him a look. “No. The cabin’s much farther, but it’s also secluded. I’ll bet they can see or hear someone coming if we were to drive up.”
“So we leave the warehouse and go to the cabin? Do we hike?”
