Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(27)

I give Federov a nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You will do it, Forge. I have no doubt. You like money more than anything, although perhaps . . . perhaps you are learning that it is not everything. You cannot take it with you when you go, and it makes for a lonely bedmate, as does revenge.”

I tuck my hands into my pockets, watching a satisfied expression spread over the cagey old man’s face. “You’ve mentioned revenge twice now, Federov. Exactly how much do you know about me?”

The Russian grins, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen on his face since he stepped foot on Isla del Cielo.

“Now? I know everything, Mr. Forge. Including the fact that not all things are as they appear. Be careful. I would hate to see my daughter a widow before you have proven your merit as a husband.”

“I’m not worried, Federov.” I incline my head at him as he turns toward the chopper. “Take care.”

He salutes me and then walks toward the open door with his chin high, shoulders straight, and the slightest hint of a limp. I need absolutely zero convincing to believe with certainty that Indy is his daughter, and clearly, neither does he.

As the chopper lifts off the ground, I watch it fly away into the dark night sky, the lights dimming as it heads toward mainland Spain.

Grigory Federov is a juggernaut determined to get his own way. Unfortunately for him, I’m equally determined, and the most important negotiation of my life is no longer with him . . . it’s with his daughter.





27





India





“Congratulations, Mrs. Forge. You played impressively tonight,” Gallardo says as Batman collects my trays of chips.

“She did, indeed.” Belevich rises from the table and approaches me as Batman steps away. “Which is why I want another chance to play you.”

I meet Belevich’s icy gaze, which remains sharp, even with the vodka he’s been swilling all night. My mind is still grappling with his statement earlier about my sister. How could he know?

Batman pauses and looks at me. “Mrs. Forge, would you like us to escort you back to your room?”

“Give me five minutes, please,” I tell him with a tight smile. I’m not leaving until I hear what Belevich has to say, because if there’s a chance he was involved with Summer’s kidnapping, I need to know. And I still haven’t forgotten about the Russian men Miguel said were sniffing around my apartment.

When Batman continues to hover near the edge of the dais where the poker game took place, I glance over at him. “I’ll join you by the cashier shortly.”

“Ma’am—”

“Thank you so much.”

I know he’s probably under orders not to leave my side, but I refuse to be babysat like I’m a child instead of a grown woman. Nothing is going to happen to me in this casino, except for perhaps someone trying to steal my winnings.

Or . . . The hair that has been standing on end all night as Bastien watched the game from the craps table comes back with a vengeance. I turn around to see that he’s no longer there.

“De Vere has removed himself to the bar, Mrs. Forge,” Belevich says, and my gaze cuts to him before searching for the familiar blond head of hair at the end of the bar.

Bastien’s on his cell, and he’s staring just as intently as he did throughout the game when I’d give in to my instincts to check. Bastien is no longer the playboy trying to sleep with me to prove he can. No, now he’s the enemy, and I can practically see the rage rolling off him. Broke and desperate equals dangerous as hell in my book.

“How did you know who I was looking for?” I ask Belevich point blank.

Between him studying me like a pinned butterfly during the game and dropping hints that he has information about my sister, I can only draw one conclusion—Belevich has motives that I don’t yet understand, and I need to treat him with caution.

Batman removed himself with my chips, but Spiderman isn’t far away. Superman is nowhere to be seen. It’s fine. I’m safe. No one is going to get me here. Unless my biggest threat is the man standing directly in front of me.

“De Vere has made no secret of his interest in you.”

Belevich’s reply tells me nothing, but it’s not the information I’m really seeking anyway. “Who told you about my sister’s trouble? Do you know who was involved?”

He shows absolutely no reaction to any of my questions and says nothing.

“Seriously?” I plant a hand on my hip. “If your poker face was that good during the game, Belevich, maybe I wouldn’t always know when you’re bluffing.”

The taunt works, and the Russian scowls at me. “You are just as arrogant as your husband. I’m surprised he let you out of his sight. He doesn’t seem like a man who would let his property off the leash, let alone off his little island.”

I drop my head back and look up at the chandeliers and laugh. “Oh, I get it. You still think we live in a time when men own women and they have no say. So very backward of you.”

Instead of biting back at me, Belevich smirks, holding his vodka glass carelessly in one hand. “But isn’t that what they were going to do with your sister? Sell her off to a man to be his property?”

All humor evaporates from my entire body, and I stiffen. “What the fuck did you have to do with it, Belevich? I swear to Christ, I will fucking kill you myself if you—”