"From what she told me, it sounds like she unintentionally interfered in some type of exchange."
"What type of exchange?" He glances up from behind his computer.
"Of the money variety," I say. "Or she was set up," I say. I hope it's not the latter, but I wouldn't put it past the Morettis, especially since they wanted something from the compound but didn't want to step in here themselves. Had Antonio or one of his men attempted to steal the painting, it would have been all-out war.
"You mentioned her kid is in danger. Where is he?" Mikhail asks. He taps at the keyboard before sitting back, stretching his arms behind his head. "I'll be damned."
"What is it, sir?" I ask.
"Cryptocurrency, and a hell of a lot of it. Worth over four million dollars." Mikhail isn't usually smiling, but he quirks a sideways grin. "Bring your girlfriend in here."
"She's not my girlfriend." There's bitterness in my voice when he refers to her as mine. I never slept with Lucy, and she's certainly not mine. I'd be keeping her under lock and key with the Italians causing trouble if she was.
"Bring her in," Mikhail says, and his gaze holds no-nonsense. His jaw tightens, and the faint smile disappears.
"Of course, sir." I follow his orders and head out of his office, opening the door but leaving it ajar while I head down the hall to the study.
Lucy is seated on the sofa with Hannah. They're both having a cup of tea, chatting, and laughing like they've known each other for years. I feel like I'm interrupting, and I don't care.
"Lucy, would you come with me?"
She clears her throat and whispers an apology as she stands and accompanies me down the hall. "You don't have to be so rude."
"Are you seriously criticizing me here? Right now?"
Doesn't she realize that I stood up for her, tried to keep her out of prison–well, after I'd already interrogated her briefly the day before?
She presses her lips together but doesn't say anything as she follows me to Mikhail's office. Lucy is wise enough to remain silent and listen as we enter the small space. I shut the door behind us, giving the three of us privacy. Unless Mikhail asks me to leave, that would be fine on my account, and I'd be happy to find something else to do, anything else.
Making Lucy my responsibility is a headache. She's less of a chore than I thought, babysitting her and ensuring that she isn't running to the Italians.
"Have a seat," Mikhail says and gestures to the sofa against the wall.
Lucy glances in my direction, probably waiting to see if I'll do the same. I head toward the sofa but refrain from sitting. Instead, I stand against the wall near the couch as she sinks into the leather.
"Nikita told me that you have a son, and he's in danger," Mikhail says. He comes around from behind the desk and grabs the chair I was in earlier, turning it around to sit and face her.
Her green eyes widen, and she glances from me to the Pakhan. "I do."
"And his father? Where is he?" Mikhail asks.
Where is he going with this line of questioning? Does he think the boy's father might be part of the Italian Mafia? That wasn't something I considered; I'm not sure why not. Lucy never mentioned a spouse or significant other. Not even a boyfriend or the child's father, for that matter. And I hadn't cared enough to ask.
"Out of the picture."
"Are you sure?" Mikhail asks as he leans forward, his hands clasped together. "It's entirely possible that he could be involved with Antonio and his men."
"I can assure you that isn't the case because my son was the result of a donation from a sperm bank."
"I see," Mikhail says.
My hand covers my mouth as I pretend to stroke my jaw, shock evident on my face. That wasn't the answer I was expecting from Lucy. I'm not sure what I was anticipating. We haven't exactly talked about her kid. He's probably an off-limits topic, and I'm okay with that being the case.
"Where is he now, your son?" Mikhail asks.
"He's safe with my sister, " she answers.
Mikhail glances in my direction, silently wanting to know where she believes safe to be. There is nowhere that one can hide from the underworld. "They're in Chicago. I don't believe they'll go after the boy while Antonio believes he can retrieve the painting."
"And what happens if I don't deliver it?" Lucy asks. Her eyes widen, and she gnaws on her bottom lip.
"Where are you supposed to make the delivery?" Mikhail asks.
He can't be considering handing over what the mafia wants. That's unlike him, especially considering its value.
Her voice trembles. "Tonight, at my motel." Her lips are puckered, and her brow is pinched as she glances from Mikhail to me. "They'll kill my son and me if I don't deliver what they're after."
"And what is it that you believe they're after?" Mikhail asks. He glances her up and down, reading her mannerisms and body language. He's skilled at interrogations. It goes with the job.
Lucy opens her mouth; her ruby lips part and a small breath expels past as she glances at the desk. The certificates are face down, but I suspect she recognizes what she's after in this room. "The painting."
Why hadn't Mikhail put the stock certificates away?