“Oh my god,” I gasp.
“What is it?” Matthias leans in to get a better look.
“Holy fuck,” he whispers. “That can’t be?—”
At the bottom of the small box, beneath the first photo, is an old grainy photo that is dated March 1990. It isn’t hard to recognize the young girl in the photo with her long strawberry-blonde hair and brown eyes. She has the same angular features now as she did back then and is even wearing the same necklace she wore in all of the photos I have seen of her.
“Marianne.” I finish his sentence, horror rushing through me. The girl in the photo can’t be any older than twelve or thirteen. Not long before my mother becomes friends with her. “I don’t understand.”
“Let’s get this back to the hotel and we can go from there,” Matthias empties the trinkets in his hand back into the box and shuts the lid before ushering me out of the room.
The rain has stopped, the sky empty of clouds allowing the stars to shine through. It is such a peaceful place for such tragic memories. This time, we aren’t alone. Several of our men wait for us, along with my father and Sully.
“You two were taking too long so we thought we’d come and find you,” my father approaches me. His eyes scan my body, checking for injuries.
“I’m okay,” I placate him. “We found a few things that—” God, how am I going to tell him? He didn’t take it very well the first time I suggested Marianne had something to do with Mom’s kidnapping and murder. How is he going to take this?
“Where did you get that?” he asks, pointing at the box in my hands.
“Umm,” I stutter, holding the box tighter in my hand. This is the proof I need to bring my mother’s murderer to justice. I am not going to let anyone take it from me. Not even him. “In one of the rooms downstairs. It was hidden in a wall.”
“That’s impossible,” he tells me harshly. Matthias growls at his tone and steps forward.
“Watch your tone,” my husband snarls at my father. Goosebumps break across my skin at his protectiveness over me. The fucker is still in the doghouse, but damn if my body isn’t catching up to that.
My father’s shoulders fall, and he looks contrite as he says, “Your mother had one exactly like it,” he explains. “It was handmade, and a family heirloom given to her by your great-grandmother. There are only two in existence.”
“Who has the other one?” I ask curiously.
“Your grandmother.”
twenty
“Does she still have it?” Ava asks her father.
Liam shrugs. “As far as I know,” he says. “I’ve never actually seen it. It was just what your mother told me when we were children. Your great grandmother gave it to her when she was born.”
My wife is silent for a moment, and I recognize that the gears in her head are working out a puzzle. I don’t miss the look in her eyes when she sees the box. Like she recognizes it and the minute she remembers where, her eyes light up like fire.
“We need to go back to my old house.” She snaps her fingers and smiles. “That’s where I’ve seen this before.”
“Where in the house?” I ask because if one of her mother’s enemies saw it, they might have taken it.
“In one of my hiding places in the kitchen,” she tells me excitedly. “I always thought it was a recipe box.”
I nod my assent.
“Vas,” we both call for him at the same time. This could get awkward. My wife looks at me askance as Vas steps forward with a broad grin.
“Yes, bosses,” he gives a dramatic pause before adding the extra-eson the end.
Fucking asshole.
“You and Maxim follow us to the house,” Ava orders before I can get a word in edgewise. It’s fine. This is her mission and I’ll let her have that.
For now.
I’m not sure how I planned to take back over the Bratva when I came back, but I know I don’t want Ava near it if I can help it. I do, however, want her to become the face and full-time CEO of Arctic Security. She’s proven several times over that she’s intelligent enough to be able to run it.