Timur’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t imagine what Fyodor was feeling right at that moment. Evangeline had escaped from this family of vile leopards because her grandfather had a reputation of hurting, even killing, women. Now, if this was true, and Ulisse couldn’t possibly fool a leopard—which meant it was—her father and uncle were the same.
“Did they supply Lazar’s hit team with scent-blocker?”
Ulisse frowned. “They gave me something to give them, yes, but it didn’t make any sense to me. Said no one would know they were there. They had the entire floor plan of the house drawn out and said a window in the den would be left unlocked.”
Timur glanced at his brother. Beau and Gilbert had come to the house with Ambroise, but they hadn’t taken a tour of the house. Ambroise had been the one to ask and be shown around the house with Evangeline. Had Beau or Gilbert left the poolroom long enough to find and unlock a window in the den without being seen? His team would have escorted them if they’d left that room.
“How many snipers did Lazar send after us?”
Ulisse shook his head, groaned and coughed again, this time gurgling. “He doesn’t want any of you dead. Not before he gets here. He had a few men here and then sent more after …”
“After?” Timur prompted.
“Just fuckin’ kill me, you bastard,” Ulisse said.
Timur stalked to the tool chest and brought it back to place it on the floor near Ulisse’s feet. “You make me have to get this shit out, I’m going to use it on you,” he threatened. He kept his tone as cold as ice and just as casual, as if he didn’t care one way or the other.
Ulisse swore in his native language, but when Timur started to open the toolbox, he shook his head. “After I told him about Fyodor and Evangeline.”
“What about them?”
“How he was so gone on her. He sent the others after that. He told me she wasn’t to be killed, none of you were.”
“So why the snipers?”
“I’m telling you, there were no snipers.”
Timur heard the ring of truth in his voice. If Lazar hadn’t sent snipers then Anton Lipin had acted against orders. Why? He spent the next half hour repeating questions and circling back to the sniper, but it was clear Ulisse didn’t have any more information for them.
He spent another hour getting the exact pipeline Ulisse used to send girls to Lazar and how he got the ones from Lazar. From there he needed to know if Emilio was involved with trafficking or if he was part of the conspiracy to take down Fyodor. Ulisse’s face was smashed and unrecognizable by that time and he wasn’t capable of lying. Emilio wasn’t a part of any of it. Ulisse hadn’t wanted to cut him in.
Fyodor finally nodded, and Timur didn’t hesitate. He slit Ulisse’s throat and moved tiredly away from the man who had been a crime boss a good part of his life.
“Now we know for certain Evangeline’s father and uncle are up to their ears in this mess. If anything, they created it. They went after her bakery and sold us out to Lazar.” Pulling off his gloves, Timur tossed them onto the floor where blood pooled.
“I don’t know how I’m going to tell her. She was so happy her family came to dinner last night, particularly her brothers.”
“We don’t know if they’re in any way involved.”
Fyodor heaved a sigh. “You’re going to have to find that out, Timur.” He hesitated. “I’d like to question them myself.”
“You know that’s not a good idea. If they’re guilty, it won’t matter to Evangeline. She wants family. If you’re the one telling her every member of her family betrayed her, she isn’t going to like you very much.” Timur wasn’t about to let Fyodor ruin his relationship with Evangeline. He didn’t want his bond with her broken, but what choice was there? They had to know if her brothers were involved in the conspiracy against them.
Fyodor stood up slowly. “Thank you, Timur.”
Timur didn’t acknowledge the expression of gratitude from his brother, but it meant something to him. He left the room to the others to clean and get rid of the bodies. He needed a break. Some time with his woman, even if he just watched her sleep. He took a shower and let the warm water pound his sore muscles and then he went to her with more blood on his hands.
He stood over the bed just looking down at her sprawled out, arms wide, legs out, like a pinwheel, or a star, no covers, the thick braid unable to cage that wealth of hair.
“What are you looking at, handsome?”
She didn’t move. Didn’t open her eyes, but she knew he was there and she sounded a little amused.