“It wasn’t cloud-based?” Virus asked.
She shook her head, fluorescent light glinting off long blonde strands. “No. Dante, the IT guy, is actually Sal’s nephew. He said that his grandfather is a stickler about cybersecurity. Apparently, for a long time, he refused to allow electronic records, but that wasn’t practical. Dante said all the Moresco files were on the server in the basement and locked down so they couldn’t be copied or emailed outside the firm. If the server was destroyed in the explosion, there’s nothing left.”
Shit.
“That explains the localized explosions,” Aleksei said.
Both Virus and Rose looked at him expectantly.
“Kemper told me that there were two explosions. One on the second floor and one in the basement, but there was no damage to the structure of the building or to the gelato store on the first floor. Kemper said Moresco owns the building. If someone wanted to make sure that everyone who worked on Moresco projects and all their records were destroyed, but still protect the building, localized explosions would do it.”
Sal would definitely want to protect his investment. He was notorious for squeezing every last dollar he could from every enterprise, regardless of who got hurt.
Aleksei didn’t like mafioso, but he understood them and, on a certain level, even respected them. In some ways, the mafia was like the military. It was a community with an established hierarchy that worked together for a common goaland adhered to a specific code of ethics. Just like a military unit, mafioso stuck together. They protected each other. Loyalty was rewarded.
But Salvatore Moresco was different. Aleksei had studied Sal when he was undercover. Moresco wielded power without respect. He put himself before the family.
Rose stood from the table and crossed the room, stopping near the couch, with her head down and her arms crossed over her chest. She was a strong, athletic woman, but her oversized sweatshirt and baggy pajama bottoms combined with her hunched posture made her look delicate and fragile, like the old cards and letters his mother kept in a box in her closet. Every time he touched them, he felt like they would crumble in his hands.
He would not let Rose crumble.
She was angry with him. He knew she might never forgive him, but he had to try. He’d hurt her.
And it wasn’t just Rose he’d hurt. In trying to protect himself, he’d screwed over lots of people he cared about. He envisioned Samuel’s face at the bar, a mix of pleasure and disappointment. They could have grieved together. He could hear the disappointment in Zina’s tone when he’d told her time and again that he couldn’t come for dinner or to the boys’ games—and compared that to the rush of hugs he’d received when he walked in the door this past weekend. There were all the unreturned calls and texts from the guys in his unit. His mother begging him to let her come visit. Virus, out here alone in the woods.
Rose, standing in the cabin kitchen, brave and nervous, her scalp shining white, baring herself to him.
He’d been too afraid to accept the gift she’d offered.
It was as if Phillipe was here, whispering in his ear, quoting Gandhi.
The enemy is fear.
Aleksei’s body moved toward her of its own volition, like the instinct of a cat finding its way back home. Her shoulders were shaking. She’d angled her body away from the table, as if she were trying to hide her anguish. He stepped in front of her and wrapped her soft, quivering body in his arms. Her back stiffened, but she didn’t push him away. He squeezed tighter, trying to still the sobs racking her body. Tears wet his neck.
He’d do anything to fix this. Anything. But for now, all he could do was hold her and whisper assurances that everything would be OK. And it would. She’d put her faith in him, and he was damn well going to make sure nothing bad happened to her. Not on his watch.
He wasn’t going to fail again.
* * *
She shouldn't let Aleksei comfort her. His arms shouldn't be the grounding force holding her together. She didn’t want him to see her this vulnerable, but if he let go, she might shatter.
“How can you do it? How can you talk about death and destruction as if it were normal? My coworkers are dead. My apartment was ransacked. Yours exploded. You smashed our phones and shot out streetlights. We’re holed up in a compound, worried that people are tracking our location. You discussed Moresco destroying the office and killing the people I worked with every day, as if it were logical. This is not normal, but I’m the only one freaking out.”
His arms squeezed even tighter. Her ribs barely had room to expand as she breathed, but it felt too good to ask him to loosen his grip.
“I was trained for this. I’ve had a long time to get used to guns, violence, and always having to look over my shoulder. You’re doing great. It’s natural to need time to adjust. The first time I saw someone shot, I lost my goddamn mind. It took Virus a week to talk me off the ledge.”
“True that,” Virus called out from the dinette.
She felt a smile tug at the edges of her lips. The light moment made her feel better. She pushed her forearms against Aleksei’s chest. The hug had gone on too long. She didn’t want him to think she’d forgiven him.
“Not yet,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “I need to apologize for the way I acted yesterday. I am so sorry.”
She wanted to push harder. She wanted to tell him to take his apology and shove it, but she also wanted to hear what he had to say. Her heart was still bleeding. She wanted to know if any part of their relationship had been genuine or whether it was all just an act.
“You were beautiful yesterday, standing there at the stove. That was my first thought. That you were so fucking beautiful. Every part of you. Inside and out. With or without hair. You were so incredibly brave and open that it scared me. I panicked. I’ll regret walking out of that cabin, the way I did, for the rest of my life.”