Page 35 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“Where is he headed?”

“We’re parked outside a women’s shelter on the outskirts of the city,” I reply.

“A women’s shelter?” Matvei repeats. “Fuck. Do you think the son of a bitch is… recruiting?”

“Recruiting?” I hiss, balking at the word. “Is that what you call stealing and trafficking women?”

“Sorry,” Matvei says quickly. “That’s not how I meant it.”

I remind myself that Matvei is not like some of the other men in my circle. I know him; I know his intentions. I know he didn’t mean it that way.

“I know,” I say brusquely. “Anyway, he’s just parked outside the place now.”

“Waiting for someone?”

“Maybe. Not sure who that’d be.”

“I take it you’re going to wait there until something happens.”

“You’re a smart man, Mr. Tereshkova.”

“If I were, I’d have given up on you a long time ago.”

I smile at that. “There’s time yet.”

“You should have at least told me.”

“You would have insisted on coming with me.”

“And what’s wrong with having a little backup?” Matvei demands.

“If shit goes down, I want all the glory,” I fire back.

Matvei is quiet for a moment. Which is never a good thing. He’s a thinking man. And thinking men never stop planning.

“I also have another theory,” I say, just to distract him. “What if this fucker is working with someone in the women’s shelter? Think about it: whoever works in this place has all the intel. They know the women, know their stories. They can pick out the most vulnerable girls and offer them up to Astra Tyrannis on a silver platter.”

“It’s a possibility…”

“But what?” I ask.

“I’ve done extensive background checks into Murray’s past. Nothing suggests he’s involved on that kind of level.”

“The Ozol loyalist we caught gave us Murray’s name before he died.”

“I don’t doubt the legitimacy of the source,” Matvei says dismissively. “I mean that Murray may not be as big a player as we think he is. The informant was being tortured. He needed to give us something. Why not a name that’s legitimate but not all that important?”

That’s what I mean about thinking men. They ruin everything with their fucking logic.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say fiercely. “We got a name. Which is more than we had before. Once I have Murray backed into a corner, he’ll start talking, too.”

“And what if he has nothing to give?”

“Then he dies painfully,” I snap. “Like all the rest before him.”

I can sense Matvei wants to say something, but he’s holding back. I’m glad of that. I don’t have the patience to stave off his doubt, too.

“Well, what’s happening now?” Matvei asks.

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