Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(17)

Federov drops my hand and wraps me in a bear hug. The kind of a hug a grown daughter would receive from her father on her wedding day before he gave her away to another man. The kind that says I love you and I don’t want to let you go, but I must.

When he releases me, his gaze tracks over my face as if memorizing it. Like it’s the last time he’ll ever see me.

“We’ll talk . . . soon,” I say, not sure why I’m trying to make him feel better.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he steps away. “Thank you for summoning me for help. It was my honor.”

With one last smile at the father I never knew I had, I turn and walk toward the jet.





13





Forge





As soon as Indy is on board with Goliath, I pull the wallet out of my pocket and slide the ID out of the plastic protector. The guy couldn’t have been much of a professional, because it should be the first rule of kidnapping for ransom that you don’t bring your ID with you. But the name on it, Yuri Pallovich, matches the credit cards in the wallet. It’s not like I got much of a look at his face when it was pressed against the windshield, so I don’t know if it’s stolen. I’m going to assume not.

“You know this guy?” I hold it out to Federov.

The older man snatches it from my grip and stares down at it. After he’s done, he turns around to hold it out to a blond man and then the bald one. In Russian, they talk amongst themselves, but from the shaking of heads, they don’t know him.

Federov confirms it. “We do not know him.” The blond snaps a picture of the ID before handing it back to Federov, who offers it to me. “But we will find him.”

“He’s dead. I need you to find out who he works for.”

Federov’s chin lifts as he surveys me with new respect. “You killed him?”

“Him and others.” I hold out the stolen phone, with the screen pulled up to show the map where I think the warehouse was. “You’ll find bodies in a brick warehouse. One of them is my employee. Near the door. Shot in the chest. I would be grateful if you could help me get him and my two men from the hotel home.”

The blond leans over Federov’s shoulder to look at the map and points. “There are warehouses here. I know the area.”

“Make the calls, Kostya. Maybe we will have more answers,” Federov orders before meeting my gaze.

“Tell me what you find. I’ll do the same,” I say.

His expression shifts into the one he had when he sat across the desk from me, a stubborn negotiator, marking up the contract he’d already agreed to. “Agreed. But Illyana would still be safer in Russia.”

“You don’t know that.” I shove the wallet and phone back in my pocket. “The threats could be related to you.”

Federov’s lower lip pushes outward. “If they were related to me, they would have taken Illyana, not you. You cannot deny that you have your own enemies, Forge. From what I am told, Bastien de Vere is out for blood, when he never would’ve dared to hurt Illyana before. That is because of you.”

His well-placed jab hits right where he intends, in my conscience. Bastien never would have hurt Indy before, but his MO with respect to her has changed completely now that she’s my wife. First the chopper incident in Mallorca, and then drugs in the suitcase.

“I’ll keep her safe.”

Federov steps toward me, no doubt trying to intimidate, but I’m not one of his underlings. “You better, or I will make sure you never see her again. Do not cross me, Forge. I will not lose her when I’ve only just found her again.”

“Tell me if you find anything. I’ll be in touch.” It’s all I can manage before more oily guilt rushes back in.

“I will see her again soon. You will make it happen,” Federov orders as I turn to walk to the jet.

I look sideways at him. “She’ll see you if she wants to.”

Federov points at me. “Make it happen, Forge.”

I don’t argue further with the old man. I’ve got more important things to do—like make sure no one touched a single hair on my wife’s beautiful blond head before I get my revenge.





14





India





Jericho climbs aboard, and the flight attendant closes the door behind him. I’m a mess of emotions as he walks toward me. I struggle to find words, but none seem appropriate.

“I’m sorry,” Jericho says when he sits next to me and clasps my hand between his bloodstained ones. “I’m so fucking sorry, Indy.”

I rear back, staring at him in shock. “Why are you sorry? I’m the reason we were here. This is all on me. Koba, Bates, Donnigan . . .” I sniffle as the tears I’ve been holding back escape down my cheeks.

Jericho pushes up the armrest between our seats and pulls me against his side. “Ace, no. Don’t think that. This isn’t your fault.”

“How is it not? I insisted on going. If I hadn’t . . .”

“They would’ve gotten me some other way.”

I shake my head. “No. I made us vulnerable. I put us in the open, made it easy for someone to do this. I never realized it would be so dangerous to leave the goddamned house.”