“Yes. I think I can avoid her until you fly over.”
Anatolij Aristow. The biggest fish in Russia. The man behind the biggest scams in Europe. The man who commands an entire goddamn army, dictates the rules, and deals exclusively with Russian Oligarchs.
And he’s afraid of anineteen-year-old girl.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say and cut the call when the sound of a large engine revving outside floods the house. The car that can only be a Dodge stops on the gravel. No more than ten seconds later, the door bursts open.
“I’ve got her!” Jackson booms, running inside with Rookie close behind. “I’ve got Sandra.” He snaps a handful of pictures on the coffee table. “And it gets better.”
I glance at the polaroids, feeling a huge weight fall off my shoulders to hit the floor with a loud thud.
“When were those taken?” I stare at a photo of Sandra by the trunk of a white SUV with aboy.A child. A six or seven-year-old child with black hair and a face that leaves no doubt as to who his father is.
“Today. They’re in Ohio.”
I drop onto the couch, squeezing the back of my neck. Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell happened to my moral compass? The one that guided me in the right direction throughout the years. No more than six months ago, the prospect of kidnapping a child would’ve made me sick.
Now?
Now there’s no mercy left in my fucked-up mind.
***
The journey to Ohio took four hours. The true optimist I became not long ago, I booked a flight to Moscow for six a.m. tomorrow morning, expecting no problems on the road to successfully blackmailing Morte into calling off the hit.
“Is this it?” Nate leans out of the back seat, looking closer at the farmhouse Spades pulled up in front of.
It’s not much—an ugly white house with wooden shutters on the windows and a messy front garden overgrown with weeds. A large barn stands to the left, and the same SUV I saw in the pictures Jackson brought is parked out of the way by an old but still operational well. The neighbor’s house is about a mile away, hidden behind a small hill, so only a part of the roof is visible in the distance.
“C’mon, let’s get this over with.” Spades heads out of the car with a frown on his forehead.
He’s not overly happy about the whole kidnapping a child idea. Neither am I, but it’s a means to an end. It’s not like we’ll hurt the kid. We’ll keep him entertained until his Daddy starts playing ball. Spades doesn’t accept my reasoning, though. His niece is Morte’s son’s age, making the job that much harder for him to stomach.
“Took you long enough.”
We hear, and all three of us turn to find Sandra in the barn doorway, a riding crop in one hand and a black helmet in the other.
“I expected you here weeks ago.” She admits, starting toward us, seemingly unfazed by our arrival. “Forgot about my existence, didn’t you?” Her eyes lock on me as she strolls across the gravel in a casual step.
“I thought you left Morte to stay away from the Mafia, but it looks like you’re still in the know,” I say, holding my hand out, letting Spades and Nate know not to reach for their guns yet. If there’s a chance we can settle this peacefully, I’ll take it.
“Once you enter that life, you’re bound to it forever, Dante. I keep tabs on Morte because I don’t want him near my son. When he ordered the kill on Frankie’s girl, I knew I’d have to face my past.”
“She’smygirl. Not Frankie’s. I’ll grant your wish. Give Morte a reason to follow my orders, and I’ll make sure you and your son won’t ever have to worry about him showing here.”
She stops a few feet away, with no fear in her brown eyes. “Do you know why I left him? I didn’t want to risk my son’s safety by staying. Morte would never opt-in for a normal, peaceful life. Right now, you know best what lines your kind is willing to cross to get what you want. You’re here to take Aiden and blackmail Morte into cooperating.”
“Desperate times. If you hope you can appeal to my humanity, don’t hold your breath, Sandra. There’s no humanity left in me, but... you already knew that, right?”
For a moment, I was sure she wanted to cooperate. She should. There’d be no need to take the kid or hear a mother cry, but Sandra made a mistake trying to pull the wool over my eyes. She got in too deep with her lies.
“Yes,” she admits, folding her arms over her chest. “And do you know Morte is very much aware of Aiden’s existence yet wants nothing to do with him?”
Another mistake. Another lie. If that was true, she wouldn’t keep tabs on his whereabouts.
“You had a choice.” I trade glances with Spades, who immediately aims his gun at her head. “You could’ve helped me out of your own good will, or you could’ve lied, hoping I’d change my mind, and leave empty-handed.” Spades flips the safety. The sound turns Sandra’s face chalk white. “You chose wrong,” I continue. “I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself. I strongly believe that a child should have a mother, so you get to choose again.”
“I’ll do it,” she clips, not a moment of hesitation, her voice defeated. Maybe she’s not as dumb as I have her pegged for. “You want me to tell Morte about Aiden, right?”