Wicked Mafia Prince (A Dangerous Royals Romance, #2)(40)

“Are you giving her a choice? Or steamrolling her choice? I mean, I get it, Viktor, a nun is a hard limit…” I barely hear him over the pounding in my head.

Suddenly Sykes, our P.I., is there, hat shoved down over his head. Aleksio slides in next to me so the man can have the other side of the booth to himself.

“Not loving this public place,” Sykes grumbles.

Aleksio slides him cash, and he spins a thumb drive across the table to us. He has a wide face, a womanly nose, and skin the color of American spray tan. “That’s the filings. A lot of bullshit in there, just so you can see what I did. I got your brother’s report. That’s the good news.”

That gets our attention.

“He got arrested, all right,” Sykes says. “It’s pretty much the story you heard—he attacked the officers who freed him—attacked without provocation. Guy really f*cking went to town. In testimony, one of them said it was because they tried to restrain him. Guy doesn’t like to be restrained.”

He sits back and slides his hands to either side of him. This P.I. Sykes, he’s a man who takes up two seats when he can.

“Bad news: He went before district court, and they had a sanity hearing. Apparently he was committed, but I can’t get anything definitive, and certainly not where he was sent. A certificate of commitment was created at some point, but it’s been deleted on corresponding spreadsheets. I have one more idea, but it’ll take another round of FOIA filings. I went ahead and did that.”

“Hold on—committed?” Aleksio says. “As in, an insane asylum?”

“Possibly. They had a hearing with two lawyers—one for the state, one for him—and a psychiatrist. It’s procedure in a commitment case, so yeah. That’s a likely outcome. I’ve got the lawyer’s name, but he retired soon after. I’m tracking him down. He’ll invoke confidentiality, but I’m guessing you want me to put the hurt on him.”

“Whatever it takes,” Aleksio says.

“Something strange, though—the psychiatrist’s name was blacked out. And the hard copies were filled out with a different font than other papers in the batch.”

“What does that mean?” Aleksio asks.

“Irregular. Could be a lot of reasons. Some innocent, some fishy. Thing is, he went to town on all those cops. My guess is that he’s in the system for sure on an MI and D—mentally ill and dangerous—but where? Hence another filing.”

“Meaning he may be in a prison for the criminally insane,” Aleksio says.

I hiss out a breath. “Rotting in a lunatic asylum?”

“It could be that, we just don’t know,” Sykes says.

“It’s not as bad here as in Russia,” Aleksio says.

I growl. It’s all bad.

“He could’ve been in for a term and then released to a halfway house,” Sykes continues. “I’m going as fast as I can here. You said not to push it, not to draw attention. There are difficult personalities involved down at the records desk. Buying a f*cking vanilla frappé for the desk guy. Like a f*cking little megalomaniac behind his f*cking desk.”

I feel rage flare hot in my head. I speak through clenched teeth. “What is this man’s name, please.”

The P.I. glances nervously at Aleksio, who holds up a hand, as if that will calm me. “We have a legal right to this information,” Aleksio says. “He won’t hand it over?”

“Policies are only as fair as those enforcing them.”

Now Aleksio growls.

“Take a chill pill, guys,” Sykes says. “We’re close.”

I turn to Sykes. “Did you see signs of anyone else poking around?”

“I’d tell you if I did,” he says. “My writer thing is legit. I have a book on Amazon.”

I take a deep breath, trying to be the man Kiro needs me to be. “We need to get our facts before acting.” I say this to myself more than anybody else. I eye my brother. “If we act rashly now, we could be sorry forever.” I don’t really feel it, but I say it.

Aleksio meets my gaze. A lump forms in my throat because I know he’s thinking about me and Tanechka, too.

“Fuck me,” Aleksio whispers. “Don’t look around.”

I stiffen.

“We’re being watched,” he says.

This is bad. We’re vulnerable here. We could be surrounded.

“Fucking hell.” I find my piece and set it in my lap.

Sykes sucks in a breath. “What the f*ck? Will they move on us?”

“Depends,” Aleksio says. “And they’ve seen us together now. Dammit. How long does it take them to put a name and address to your face?”

“Not f*cking long,” Sykes growls. He begins to get up.

I clamp a hand over his wrist. He’s shaking. “Where’re you going?”

“The f*ck out of here.”

“No. Our orders now. We think how to get out of here, then figure where to put you.”

“Because you can’t go back to your place,” Aleksio says.

“What? I have a dog,” Sykes says.

“Gimme your address, we’ll get him out of there. Hurry,” Aleksio says.

“I can’t not go home.”