Wicked Mafia Prince (A Dangerous Royals Romance, #2)(10)

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I close my eyes. “I need you back.”

“I’m fine.”

“Make me believe it, brother.” I wave my hand around his place. “This is not making me believe it.”

“I missed a meeting,” he says. “Yes, I am guilty of that.”

I give him a look.

“Brat.” He gestures at the screen where the nun prays. “It’s all good.”

I sniff. “You know why I came over here? Kiro. We have a lead.”

He straightens, eyes wide. “A lead on Kiro?”

“A possible ID on the guy who probably took him. Guy named Pinder. Remember how he posed as a professor? This guy actually was a professor at some no-name school.”

“You think it’s him?”

“Two aliases, two death certificates, and three warrants for arrest on fraud and impersonation? I’m thinking yeah. He’s got hunting land in northern Minnesota that’s in some kind of legal limbo. I’m having our pilot fuel up.”

“Kiro.”

“Look at you. Drunk, exhausted, and like a fanatic. You should sleep.”

“Fuck you,” he says, and that makes me feel a world better. “A lead on Kiro. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What did I just do? Get your boots and jeans. We’re taking two parties of five. Carlo and a few of the guys are grabbing supplies. It’s a huge swath of hunting land.”

Viktor glances at the monitors.

“We can shut these off, right?” I say. “If anybody outbids you for Nikki today, you can just put in another bid when we get back.”

He goes to the monitors. I can see him struggling. He wants somebody to stay and watch Tanechka at least, but he knows he needs to get control of himself. He needs to show me that. He closes all of the lids, then heads up to change.

They’re probably still recording. He’ll review the stuff when we get back, and it’ll get worse once we have audio and computer surveillance on the place, but he’s torn himself away for now. That’s a good thing.





Chapter Three




Tanechka


I pray, kneeling, sometimes crying—not in self-pity, but in gratitude. This hardship is a gift for which I am grateful. Every day this hardship makes me stronger.

I pray until my knees scream.

Then I pray more.

Sometimes I feel rage, but I don’t act on it. I simply allow it to rise and fall, just as the sisters at the convent taught. They taught me that rage doesn’t make me a bad person, but that I cannot act on it.

I’m stronger than rage, and vengeance too. Vengeance is small and weak and ugly. Love is mighty and beautiful.

Instead, I keep my attention on the love and compassion that Jesus with his shining face would feel for these women who are locked here. I even pray for these men who would treat us like cattle, shoving us, tormenting us, making the weak ones cry, frightening my sisters here with tales of what will happen to us the day we’re sold to the ones who message us.

I’ll rescue these women without violence. I’ll resist my mysterious impulses to hurt our captors. I ignore the flashes of myself doing all manner of harm to them. I don’t know why I imagine these things—it’s not for me to judge or punish them.

I slide my fingers along my prayer rope, whispering. The repetition settles my mind and calms my soul. The repetition helps me focus my attention fiercely on the small icon affixed to the wall before me. It shows Jesus in his red robe covered in a green cloak. To my captors it’s just a bit of wood that perhaps raises my value in the eyes of those who would buy me. To me, it’s a window to heaven.

The sisters said my impulses to fight with people make me special. They say that God never gives you more than you can handle.

This is truly the ugliest place I have ever been, but this fight is the greatest fight I have ever waged.





Chapter Four




Viktor


We land in a small airport in a small city named Duluth. The last time we were through here, the hunt for Kiro seemed doomed. The investigator was not hopeful. I wanted to hurt him.

Now this lead!

We rent cars and drive west from there with enough hardware to vanquish a small army. I’m in the lead car. Yuri rides up front with Tito driving. I sit in the back with Aleksio, reviewing satellite images of the imposter professor’s hunting cabin. This man, this Pinder, has hundreds of acres of wild hunting land. He’s supposedly dead, but it’s all very mysterious.

Our P.I. did good work. I am happy I did not kill him.

“If Pinder has done anything to our brother, I will make him eat his own eyeballs.”

Aleksio frowns. Love has made him lose his taste for violence a little bit. “Maybe if Kiro is as wild as they say, maybe this is the kind of place he likes. Maybe this isn’t sinister.” Aleksio. Trying to stay positive.

I say nothing. I do not feel so positive.

Aleksio blows a puff of air from his lips, moving a lock of hair from his eyes. Mira once said he had the haircut of a teen idol. It’s just a haircut grown out, he growled. They had a silly fight. Aleksio and Mira can have fun over anything, especially the little things. The big things are more difficult. She’s a lawyer who hates crime. He’s a criminal.