Indebted to the Mafia King
Sneaky

Dante

"Quickly." I hang up the phone and sit back down at my desk. I don't know what the hell made El call me like that, but I know the driver headed her way needs to move fast. Anything that scares her, scares me.

Which means it's a bitch of a time trying to get my eyes to refocus on the work I was doing right before she called. I tap my fingers on the top of my desk, hum a song to myself, play music out loud. Nada. Finally, I give up, pour myself a glass of scotch, and take a long sip. Peaty. Rich. Steadying, thank God. When I sit back down at my desk, the words don't swim off my computer screen.

Windows crowd the monitor, all different transcripts of different reports from Teo since he's gone under. He said something when he came out this last time that scratched an itch in my brain, and I'm trying to figure out where that itch came from.

Klondike Paper. Apparently, it's the name of an office the Russians control, one they don't intend to let Teo into for a while yet. But I swear it sounds familiar. Another sip of scotch, and I turn to the next transcript.

If El were here, she could probably whip up a program to search the phrase in fifteen seconds flat.

But she's not, and I ran this goddamn syndicate before her. I shoot the rest of my drink and focus all my brainpower on the stupid screen.

Time ticks away.

And away.

And away.

Ah!

We stumbled in on a couple of, uh, brigadiers? Squad leaders. And they got quiet real fast when we showed up, but I heard the word Klondike. Like the ice cream or something. Anyway, I asked Vik who they were later, and he said they handled movement for Rodion.

That asshole needs to pick a less accessible reference. Immediately after Henry told me about his stupid Raskolnikov-Fyodor switch, I picked up a copy of Crime and Punishment and read the whole thing. Teo missed the main character's first name, but I'm not that stupid.

Klondike Paper. They have an office in the Bronx, and in that office, Fyodor might wait.

Or they know I'm working with Henry, who pulled the Interpol file, and they're using the Crime and Punishment reference to bait me.

"Fuck!" I shove back from my desk. Life would be so much easier if the Russians weren't so goddamn sneaky. This isn't the first lead we've gotten on Fyodor's location, just the one I've had to work hardest for, and they all disappear in a puff of smoke when we try to look into them.

With a sigh, I pull out my phone and dial Cal Duncan. What's the point of allying with a crazy Irishman if not pointing him at ghostly enemies?

He picks up quickly, and I wade through the pointless sea of his banter until he asks me what's going on.

"Got a location," I say. "Might be Fyodor."

I can almost hear him salivate over the phone. "Is that an invitation, boss man?"

"Better." I smile grimly. "It's an offer. Spot's all yours, if you want it."

He cackles. "So, you think it's shite."

"I'm not sure." The transcript stares blankly back at me. "If it's nothing, they're even smarter than I gave them credit for. Regardless, make it look like you just stumbled into the spot. We don't want them to know how close we are." "Well, me and mine'll burn a Russian spot any time of night. I'll report with anything I replace."

After that, we hang up quickly, and I have nothing to do but fidget until-

The door opens. Thank God, El's here. I jump out of my chair and race for the foyer. When I arrive, she stands in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around herself and something burning in her beautiful blue eyes. She doesn't approach me, and worry prickles over my skin.

"Andre, Lucio?" she says.

The two guards flanking the door look at her.

"Go outside." Her voice is flat. "I'll let you know when to come back."

They obey wordlessly, and I know something is very fucking wrong. "El, what-"

She puts up a hand to silence me. "Is there anyone else in here?"

I haven't hired a new chief of staff for the house since Andrea died, and I prefer my guards outside. I shake my head.

She slumps, and I rush forward to catch her. She lets me. Technically. But when she looks up at me, the emotion in her eyes resolves into tears and anger.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Henry fucking Alcott happened," she snaps. "Dante, he knows where the apartment is. He was waiting for me."

"That motherfucker." Anger bubbles under my skin. This is how he responds? Going after my fiancée? "Don't worry about him. I can end his career."

"I'm not worried about careers, I'm worried about lives." Eleni pulls out of my arms. "I'm starting to show, just a little, so I unbuttoned my pants on the walk home, and he noticed. What if he knows about baby? What difference does his fucking career make then?"

Just like her mother, she makes a spitting noise three times. I shake my head slowly.

"He doesn't," I say. "You're not showing enough. It could be anything. I have him under control, El, trust me."

"I trust you." Her tears leak into her voice, making it wobble. "It's him I don't trust. He's going to stab you in the back, and you're too cocky to see it."

"You don't know what I have." I smooth my hands over her shoulders. "Fuck, I'm sorry he got to you like that, but he's just swinging his dick around, trying to seem like more trouble than he is. I promise."

She sucks in a shuddering breath. "Are you sure, Dante? Sure enough to put baby's life on the line?"

For a second, I consider it. I'm not stupid. I have a suitcase of cash-several stashed in this house. We could leave right now, go to ground, and let Henry have his stupid fucking pissing contest with someone else. But Cal and his boys might be ending the fight with Fyodor right now. And, if I'm being honest, I know Henry too well for him to scare me.

"I promise," I say.

She studies my face, looking for any hint that I don't believe myself. When she doesn't replace it, a tentative smile blooms over her lips.

I lean in and kiss it.