Chapter Sixteen

Dangerous men with zero conscience. Situations where Kir and those with him had been grossly outnumbered. Guns, knives and a good number of other weapons intended for his demise. Kir had faced them all and then some since the day he’d last seen his mother, but not one of them left him feeling as powerless as the last half hour. He’d been far east of the city dealing with construction crew issues when Sam had called and told him that Cassie had been fired, but couldn’t offer any other details. Cassie hadn’t answered her phone. Neither had Evette. If Sergei hadn’t answered his and assured him Evette and Cassie’s aunt were inside the carriage house with her, Kir would have likely blown well past the speed limit and had a string of policemen on his ass with sirens blazing the whole way home.

He pulled into the drive more aggressively than was wise and found Sergei and Roman milling just outside the carriage house door. Sam and Patrick were there as well. All four eyed him as though he were an unpredictable threat.

The strikes of his Italian dress shoes against the concrete were louder than his voice. “How is she?”

“Past tears and on to fury.” Roman glanced through the four-square windows that topped the front door. “Most of it aimed at the television.”

“She has a competitor at work. Lizbet Montlake.” He looked to Sam and Patrick. “Is she the one behind this?”

Patrick shook his head, but it was Sam who spoke. “She didn’t give us any details. Only asked us to take her home and tried not to cry while we drove.”

“It was us,” Sergei said. “Evette couldn’t tell me much by way of text, but someone told an executive that she was intimate with you. And, by way of that relationship, was using station resources to further mafiya interests. Namely, mine.”

His fault.

Perhaps nothing he’d done directly beyond being who he was, but his fault all the same. At least that was the way Cassie probably saw it. “I need to talk to her.”

Sergei cocked an eyebrow. “By that, I take it you’re asking me to risk life and limb to extract my bride?”

“And Cassie’s aunt.”

The smile on Sergei’s face was slight, but also held deep understanding. “You ask much, moy brat, but I will try.”

Roman cast them a sidelong look that said he thought they were both crazy and jerked his head toward his men gathered outside the main house. “Good luck. I’ll be with them.”

Sergei chuckled and reached for the doorknob. “Enjoy it, brother. One day you’ll have your own reckoning and escape won’t be so simple.”

Inside, Cassie sat dead-center of the flannel sofa, her stare locked on the television. She’d changed from the professional attire she’d left in this morning to a simple tank, the loose cotton pants she preferred when watching TV, and bare feet. Her lips were pressed so tightly together, Kir had no doubt her jaws would ache tomorrow, and her hands were clenched between her knees. She glanced at Sergei. Then Kir. Then went right back to glaring at the screen.