I had led Kon to believe I didn’t know anything about Riku Yoshida in particular, just that I needed to speak to someone high up in the Yakuza. It was the organization that wanted Kon dead, after all, and by extension, my father. What I wasn’t telling Kon was that I’d been explicitly told Riku’s name.
Nothing more. Just one last cryptic text from Papa’s assistant, right after she told me to listen to him and not get involved.
Riku Yoshida.Nothing else.
And then she disappeared. Was she really in hiding, or was she involved somehow? And if she was involved, was she working for or against my father? I didn’t dare put her in Kon’s cross hairs if she was trying to help Papa behind the scenes, or if the poor woman was trying to stay alive.
Damn the Bratva. Damn all of it. Loyalty, money, blood. I hated all of it.
The city seemed to be breathing, closing in on me despite being so vast. I went inside and, figuring out the ridiculously complicated remote control, gave me a few minutes of respite from the thoughts and worries spinning around in my head. Nothing could keep my attention on the big screen, and I headed back to the kitchen to clean up the dishes.
Not to be helpful or kind by any means, but because I couldn’t sit still when Kon could be out there at that moment, bringing down his misplaced wrath on my father.
And what if it wasn’t misplaced?
“Absolutely not,” I said aloud, plunging my hands into steaming, sudsy water. The sting was also a distraction from the fears that kept piling in on me the longer Kon was gone.
I didn’t want him to return, but I needed to know what was going on. I needed answers, and far more than he did. This wasn’t merely money to me. It was my only family.
Someone who claimed to value family as much as Kon always purported to should have known that. And then what? Cut Papa some slack because his only daughter wouldn’t know how to live without him?
Yes, that was exactly what Kon should do, and it was the root of all my anger toward him, no matter if I wanted to admit it or not. He should have cared more. Not just keep me safe, as he claimed he was doing, and that was arguable.
I slammed the wine glasses back into their spot in the cupboard so hard that one of them cracked. A drop of blood welled at the tip of my finger, but I ignored it, tossing the broken glass into the trash. Sucking on my finger, I went into my room and threw myself on my bed.
Of course, the fact that Kon wasn’t on my side wasn’t the main reason I was pissed. Why should I care at all about that? He had ruined my chances to speak with Riku, the one man who might be able to lead me to my father.
If he had done something wrong, I’d forgive him. Kon could rot in hell, with or without his missing million dollars. Now I was trapped, with no means of escape. No way to find out the truth or help Papa.
Thinking about how easily Kon had found out where I was staying before he kidnapped me, I was supremely grateful that I’d had the sense to delete the most recent message from Papa and all of the messages from his assistant. I may have been sheltered, but I wasn’t stupid. If Kon was certain I knew more than I was letting on, even something so trivial, his efforts to get that information out of me would double.
And I didn’t need those intense eyes paralyzing me, planning some fate for me that I couldn’t imagine. Remembering the hunger in that gaze as he reached for my throat had me curling up under the covers for the mere illusion of safety.
But it was only an illusion. There was no such thing as safety anymore, not with Papa gone and Kon in charge. There was no sleep either as long as Kon was still out there, hunting my father.
Chapter 13 - Konstantin
I raced to my nephew Aleks’s house, where there was a convenient and soundproof shed at the back of the property. Despite the late hour, Aleks met me at the front door and shepherded me toward the back of his palatial mansion.
All of my American family members had done well for themselves when my brother left Moscow to make his mark here before I was even born. Nothing was going to get in the way of their health and happiness if I had anything to say about it.
I breathed in the leftover aroma of a family dinner as we went through the kitchen, and smiled grimly at the toys strewn around the pool. It could have been any family home, albeit someone filthy rich. There was nothing dark about the place until we arrived at the shed.
An incongruous building deep in a copse of palm trees, a guard leaned against the wall until he saw us, then jumped to attention. Aleks waved for him to continue relaxing.
“That one’s not going anywhere,” he said, nodding toward the door of the shed.
I hurried in, worried that if he was too badly injured, I wouldn’t get anything out of him at all. There was a fine line between a prisoner wanting to live through the pain and just giving up and hoping it would end. Somewhere along that border was where we got our answers.
Mat was already in there, incongruously playing a game on his phone while the detainee dozed in the chair he was tied to. Mat greeted me and kicked the chair, causing the man’s lolling head to slowly shake.
After a moment, he looked up and stared blankly at me through eyes that were almost bruised shut. Then recognition had him trying to grin. So, he knew me, but I had no clue who he was.
“Who do you work for?” I asked.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug that had him wincing. “Already told him that.”
Mat sighed and kicked the chair again. The man remained silent, so Mat filled me in. “He says he works for the Yakuza but won’t name names. Claims he can’t remember. He’s a tough little bastard.”