Chapter Twenty-One
Sevastyan punched the sub-basement level in the private elevator later that evening.
The meeting with a local informant hadn’t turned out as expected. He twisted his neck until he heard a crack. And repeated the process in the other direction.
The elevator rose a couple of floors and dinged when the doors slid open. Some rich politician’s son thought he could sell his information for a few favors from the kings. He’d have paid too but then the little shit had tried to get slick and record the exchange.
After breaking his arm and phone, Sevastyan found he didn’t have shit to begin with. Lucky Sevastyan didn’t force-feed him a bullet.
He found the hallway silent and his mind went back to Rhia and what went down at her apartment. Tonight had been one shit show after another.
For now, they would have to hold tight at her place because he and Matteo had a meet-up with another lead with his brother’s case. Bringing her here wasn’t an option even if he’d said as much.
Rhia had sounded pissed off, but he could hear the fear just beneath the surface. She was in over her head and burdened with a stubbornness that rivaled his own, he predicted she wouldn’t seek help until it was too late. For now, Roman was with her, and he’d have to console himself with the knowledge his brother would keep her safe.
Even if that meant tying her to a bed.
He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. The fact remained, she was in danger and they had no idea who was targeting her. But that would change.
He should ship her off to his house on the west coast. Get her out of here and away from them so they all could get back to hunting a killer.
He blew out a weary breath. Another thought nagged him. Sending her away would put an open season sign around her neck. The first takers being whoever tore up her place.
Something told him uncovering who broke into Rhia’s place would give them a strong lead to who killed her father, and the trail would then tie back to the containers and come full circle to his brother.
No, they needed her here.
A more selfish reason gripped his brain and wouldn’t let go. Without her here they couldn’t protect her. His brother’s dead body already haunted his nightmares—he didn’t need to add a set of emerald eyes to his torture.
If that made him a greedy, selfish bastard, so be it. He could still taste her on his lips, and the smell of her delicate skin invaded his mind.
He stepped from the elevator and into the game room, scanning impatiently for Lucian or Matteo. Lucian had put a tail on the Crowne brothers the second they discovered their existence. So far radio silence.
But that left them holding their dicks and no answers, and that pissed him off.
Trafficking victims didn’t have a long life expectancy and the more time they twiddled their fingers, the harder it would be to find the containers. Roman was probably right. They were sitting at the bottom of the ocean somewhere
Finding the game room empty, he headed back upstairs the same way he entered.
Caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed that his office wasn’t as empty as he had left it.
He slammed the door shut on Rhia’s mental intrusion and came to an abrupt stop opposite his desk.
“Indigo. What are you doing in here?” he said sharply, not caring how it made her jump. It wasn’t unlike her to be in his office when he needed to sign something or she needed to go over paperwork for the club, but they had nothing scheduled. But she’d always knocked and never let herself in unannounced.
“Mr. Volkov.” His secretary stood facing his bookshelves, tracing over the spines of his books, an innocent enough gesture of boredom, but he narrowed his eyes at her all the same.
She turned, obviously caught off guard. “I was waiting for you. We need to talk.” In front of her, she laced and unlaced her fingers, and he didn’t miss the regal snap in her voice.
With a glance, he scanned his shelf but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
Giving a nod, he edged around the chairs to stand behind his desk. “Go ahead.” He’d allow the intrusion into his personal space once. Only because his mind was too preoccupied with more important matters.
“With Ms. Carmichael coming on as part of your team I could take over and train her for the job. Show her the ropes and have her with me at all times. We are friends, you know. I can only imagine we would work well together.” As she spoke his secretary cautiously stepped a pace closer, a sensual dip to her voice that had Sevastyan’s sixth sense on high alert.
He held his ground, his iron composure rattled with irritation.
“That won’t be necessary, Indigo. Thank you. Is that all?”