Page 97 of Kept in the Dark
It is ridiculous to think they might have heard anything through layers of wood and carpet, but I know this teasing is part of male camaraderie. I perch against the side table behind the desk, looking between them with my arms crossed, but I cannot bring myself to admonish them for their childishness. For the first time, I do not feel singled out as different or strange for my behavior. Though the jokes are at my expense, they are meant to include me.
“You said you had news?” I say, adjusting my position. My cock is still half-hard.
“In a rush?” Wesley asks with an insincerity that I would normally find quite grating. This morning, it does not bother me so much. Though cut short, my “workout” with Nicole has put me in a good mood. I can still taste her on my lips.
“Yes. I am training Nicole.”
“To do what?” James asks, his double meaning plain as he waggles his eyebrows.
“Koz’ye yaichko.What are these important updates?”
Wesley flashes a grin, but chooses not to make whatever humorous comment he is thinking. “A few things. First, I got through the first layer of security on the USB—a fairly simple PIN—but there’s another. And it’s multifactor. We need Viktor’s phone and a password. No way around it.”
With those small, simple words, a torrent of emotions is unleashed that is so strong, it is nearly painful. Once the pride in my team dissipates,I am left with a prickling irritation about this setback, and a cold kind of fear.
I promised her that once we cracked the USB, we would discuss her leaving. This is one step closer to that.
I cannot lose her, not now that I have just had her. There is too much left between us—too much unsaid, too much to explore.
“Snatch and grab, then,” James says, interlocking his fingers and resting them on the top of his head. A relaxed, leaned-back posture. He looks to me. “Store him on ice?”
Our faceless corporation owns several properties all over the tri-state area, which are useful to us. The old butcher’s shop has a stainless-steel freezer that is soundproof and lockable from the outside, and it is in a quiet enough area that no one is around to see bodies being hauled in or out. It has become the perfect short-term prison, with the added benefit that the threat of frostbite makes people much more willing to cooperate.
“Da.We will need to infiltrate his life more closely to determine the points in his routine where he is the most unguarded. What are the other updates?”
“I’ve got our confirmation about Kyle.” Wearing an excited expression, Wesley turns the monitor to show us a grainy picture of the side of Kyle’s face through the front window of a car. There is a timestamp at the bottom with a date. “Traffic cam footage caught him leaving the home of our coroner in the wee hours of the morning after the wedding—well past his supposed time of death.”
“Andthisis why I drive the speed limit and do not run red lights,” I say, vindicated. I have been teased about this relentlessly for years—accused of driving like so many dead grandmothers.
“Yeah, yeah,” James rolls his eyes and waves dismissively. “So, he’s alive. Do we know where he is?”
“No.”
“What about Felix?”
“That’s my last update. I had a hit on one of the aliases Mac sent me: Roberto Lomas bought petrol in a Podunk town in western Pennsylvania last night. No way to confirm it was Felix. No cameras.”
“Felix would know which places didn’t have cameras—could definitely be him,” James nods, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Long way from home. Kinda seems like maybe he’s not involved in all this with Kyle and the coroner.”
My eyes cut to Wesley, and we both look at James. He has some lingering loyalty towards Felix that I do not quite understand. Perhaps it is an abundance of caution where my woman is concerned, but I would rather treat Felix as a dangerous unknown. I can see that Wesley agrees with me.
“I’ve been thinking about that. I know we can’t be certain they’re working together, but if you had to fake your own death, who would you go to?” Wesley asks carefully.
“You.”
Wesley smirks at the speed of James’s answer, but shakes his head. “If you couldn’t come to me.”
After a few seconds of grinding his jaw, James sighs. “Felix. It’s not like he’s got a menu of services or anything, but he’s the guy who gets you things—he makes things happen.” He sighs, casts his eyes towards the ceiling, and shakes his head. “I just… I dunno. I know we can’t set our watches by my gut, but something doesn’t feel right about this.”
“Explain,” I demand.
“It’s not like we’re pals or drinking buddies or anything, but I know people. I know him. He goes where the money is, but he’s real careful and smart. I’m not saying he doesn’t occasionally cross paths with aBratva, but they’re not subtle. They run guns and drugs. They’re on all kinds of FBI lists. You get what I’m sayin’? A guy with a reputation as someone real careful and smart wouldn’t get in bed with the likes of them.”
Wesley lifts a brow. “You’re saying working with aBratvais not his style?”
“Kind of. He’d do a job for them, get himself set up with a fat stack or a favor or two, but he wouldn’t workwith‘em. The distinction is small, but it feels important. If he’s involved, he’s an independent player. He’s got his own agenda—maybe it aligns with theirs, but it’s separate. And to a point Big D’s made before, Volkevich has everyone he needs to take care of issues in-house.Bratvasdon’t use contractors. So why would he need Felix?”
“Valid points,” Wesley admits. “Perhaps Kyle is working outside the family on something.”
