Kir knew the article intimately. Had seen the original broadcast that went with it and read Cassie’s print version many times over.

Roman studied the paper over his shoulder. “A message.”

“So it seems,” Kir said. “And not a very subtle one at that.” Carefully setting the paper aside on the desk, Kir pulled the chair out of his way and swept his fingers over the laptop’s mousepad to activate the screen. His young soldier had been one of the most enthusiastic and creative hackers he’d seen in a long while. He’d even hinted to Sergei’s brother from Dallas, Knox Torren, that Kevin would give him a run for his money one day. To give him that chance, Kir had been more than willing to finance whatever technological request he made. The one thing that had been a nonnegotiable term from the get-go was a full share of passwords, infrastructure and data storage.

Mikey inched closer to Roman. “What message?”

“Someone knows we’re responsible for Alfonsi,” Roman said. “Whoever it is isn’t happy about it.”

“Can’t be a huge number of people in that camp,” Reggie murmured from the doorway.

“More than you think.” Kir checked one directory after another, every one of them coming up empty. “Alfonsi had a lot of side businesses. Our direct competition and those he blackmailed might have been happy to see him gone, but those on his payroll are still reeling.”

“What are you looking for?” Roman said.

He checked the last directory, exited the DOS prompt and faced his old friend. “Whoever was here wasn’t just sending a message. They wanted information.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because Kevin had a failsafe on this laptop. Any more than four attempts on logins destroyed any data stored on it, along with any connections to our shared drives. There’s not a thing on this machine.” Beside the computer, the photo of Sergei sat waiting, the scowl on his pakhan’s face likely matching Kir’s own expression this very moment.

Alfonsi’s Downfall.

Kir focused on the author’s name beneath it.

Cassie McClintock.

So zeroed in on the text in front of him and the thoughts spinning through his head, he didn’t sense Roman closing in until his lowered voice sounded right behind him. “What are you thinking?”

That he couldn’t find the person who’d killed Kevin fast enough. That when he found them, they would pay in the most gruesome fashion possible.

And that while death might have taken one of his own, it had also delivered a tool to ensure vengeance.

He twisted enough to commit Kevin’s corpse to memory. To let the coppery bite of so much blood imprint itself on his lungs. “I’m thinking the fastest way to find who has the biggest motive is to talk to the person who’s already done most of the footwork.”

Chapter Four

What the hell was wrong with her? Cassie knew better than to rush her segues from the forecast or sports back to the news, but she’d been disconnected and bordering on dismissive with her peers tonight. Enough so her editor had caught her coming off set to ask her if something was wrong.