25
Antonio
Three weeks later…
Ardian is resting at the complex, with the best doctors and physicians looking after him since the helicopter accident.
I’ve been biding my time, keeping a close watch on the Russians. There have been no recent threats to my family or my extended Italian brothers.
All is quiet.
Almost too quiet.
I haven’t seen or heard a word from Aleksandra. Not that I expected us to remain close, but she is the mother of my children, and I want to see Liam and Sophia.
But showing up at the Russian complex might be stupider than when I kidnapped her. It could start the next war between our feuding families, and right now, we’ve brokered peace. At least between the factions in the New York area.
It can’t last, but I won’t be the reason for its destruction. Not with my children under Mikhail’s roof. There’s too much at risk.
“Where are you off to?” Ardian asks. He’s cooped up on the living room sofa, stretched out, supposedly healing.
He looks fine to me, but he does walk with a bit of a limp that he tries to hide. I’m sure it hurts like hell, but we’ve all got scars from battle.
“Who said I was going anywhere?”
The man can read me better than anyone else under my roof. At least Ardian, I trust. I’ve been wary of the others since Mario’s betrayal. But all along, I suspected he might turn on me, betray me, and still be loyal to the man I killed, his boss.
“You’re dressed sharper than usual,” Ardian says.
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re paying too much attention to me and not enough attention to anything else.”
“Put me back in the field. Let me work, boss.”
I can’t do that. It’s against the doctor’s orders. He has at least another week to recover, if not longer. While he can handle some minor paperwork, surveillance, the type of work that can be done from his ass seated on the sofa, that’s not what I’m about today.
“I need info on Aleksandra,” I say.
He runs a hand across his face. Ardian is muttering something under his breath, probably about how I’m an idiot for loving a woman who could get me killed. He isn’t wrong.
“There isn’t anything I can find from this couch,” Ardian says.
“I know, so I’m going out.” I try to remain cryptic about where I’m heading. While I trust Ardian, anyone else could be listening in, and I don’t need trouble to follow me. I already have enough of that daily.
Lately, the feds have been sniffing around the property, patrolling the neighborhood more than usual. Like they’re looking for something, but they’re too obvious for their own good.
They’re probably rookies. Foolhardy, thinking they can advance their career with a massive takedown of the mafia.
Good fucking luck.
Could Aleksandra have snitched to that federal agent?
Doubtful. If she had, the feds would be all over the place with a warrant, knocking down the front door. At the very least, they’d have arrested and charged me with kidnapping. And since that hasn’t happened, it means she’s not talking.
Which is a relief.
Maybe I was wrong, and she wasn’t going behind my back to Agent Malone.
“I’ll be back in an hour, maybe two.” I don’t plan on being gone long. I want to see Aleksandra and the twins. I need to know they’re all right.