“When she isn’t at work, she’s with Andropov. She hasn’t left his side even to piss since hooking up with him. Which means she’s also tight with that doctor and the aid worker. I’m sure there’s little she doesn’t know about your business by now.”
“Need to put a stop to that.”
“Not sure what you want me to do. My hands are tied. I’m just giving you the info. How you want to handle it with your goons is up to you.”
“Shut up and listen to me.” Anton glanced both ways down the hallway and hissed into the phone, “I think that woman needs her chain jerked. Hard. I’ll figure something out.” Anton ended the call, stuffed the phone back in his pocket, straightened his tie, and turned to walk back into the visitation room.
Grigory Yenin had friends. Lots of them. Many of whom were probably worried about their futures and eager to make nice with Anton to ensure he intended to keep his father’s many legacies intact.
Anton hadn’t made any decisions about the future of his father’s various investments and affairs, but when he did, it wouldn’t hurt to have met some of his father’s business partners face to face. He needed his game face on for the next several hours. And he needed his mind sharp.
After the visitation, he would figure out what to do about Belinda Gallo. If the woman thought she could meddle in his business and get away with it, she was more insane than he suspected.
»»•««
By Tuesday afternoon, Anton was exhausted from making nice with far too many people. The funeral had been lengthy.
But at least he’d formulated a plan. All he needed to do was make a few calls and put it into action. By this time tomorrow, Anton would be back in Chicago and Belinda Gallo would be living with the fear of God.
He hated being so far away from Chicago while things were changing hourly, but it couldn’t be helped. He needed another day in New York, at least enough time to get the ball rolling on his father’s affairs. Viktor could handle most things without him present, but the man needed instructions.
He picked up the phone and dialed Dayton.
“Boss.”
“You still watching Belinda Gallo’s computer?”
“I am.”
“Bitch better be working on a piece about the state of the economy in Eastern Croatia, or she’s going to find herself picking out caskets.”
“If your involvement with the KGB and subsequent move to the US is related to the economy in Croatia, then sure.”
“Fuck. I’m working on a way to put an end to this. Her time is up. You have the ability to wipe her computer after I get her out of there?”
“I can arrange for that to happen, though I’m not sure how much good it will do. She surely has her computer backed up to a cloud.”
“Every little bit helps. Maybe her boss doesn’t happen to have the password to her cloud. Who knows? This goes down tomorrow. I’ll be back tonight.” He ended the call and sat back. That crazy cunt was insane. The further she dug, the more she should have realized how bad her decision was. But journalists weren’t known for backing away from a story.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Belinda’s hand shook violently as she dropped the message she’d been reading on her desk and lifted her gaze to glance around the room.
Fuck.
She stared at the paper as if it were contaminated with anthrax. And hell, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
It was Thursday. She’d been in the office every day that week for at least ten hours. Digging. Learning everything she could about Anton Yenin and his father, Grigory Yenin.
In the last few days she had opened every single article that mentioned Grigory or Anton Yenin, systematically working through the search engine.
She read through every source she could find about their lives until her eyes burned from concentrating so hard.
Grigory had been a member of the KGB. He’d worked for them for twenty years before the fall of the USSR.
When she dug deeper, she found another interesting piece of information. His son, Anton Yenin, had also worked for the KGB. He’d only been with the organization for a few months when the entire government fell, but he’d been there.
Both men had come to the US days after the fall of the USSR, assumed new names, sought diplomatic asylum. It wasn’t uncommon at the time. Hundreds of people slid into the US that month.
These two men weren’t simply Russian Mafia. They were much more. Russian spies? Informants? Something even more sinister?
Belinda had considered sharing her findings with someone. Didn’t the FBI know this about the men they were investigating? Of course the FBI knew all that. Of course they did…
Chewing on her bottom lip, she inhaled slowly and reread the message in front of her without touching it. Convenient that the perfectly normal piece of trifold paper had landed open and facing her, making it possible for her to stare indefinitely at the page without moving a muscle. But surely she was imagining things. This could not be happening.
Ms. Belinda Gallo,
How nice of you to lead us to your father’s restaurant Friday night. My men have dined there twice. He makes a mean lasagna. And your cousin Rena is a true beauty. Just my type. Her ample tits are amazing, the kind a man can bury his face in.
It would appear you aren’t capable of taking directions from anyone. I’m sure the FBI has warned you off my back several times. And my boy Nikolav. I’m disappointed in him. I practically raised him. I also know he’s dominant, which makes me wonder how feisty you are since you continue to enter Chicago Multimedia every day of the week even though it’s not in your best interest.
It’s not in Rena’s best interest, either. And since you can’t seem to lay off this incessant need to dig into my affairs, I’ve taken matters into my own hands.
Rena is with me. Don’t worry, she came on her own volition. It was easy to wine and dine her into submission. She’d probably put out for anyone with two legs and a dick. But she’s not too happy now. She’d like me to leave.
Perhaps you’d be willing to make a trade?
I thought so.
This is what you’re going to do. Find a way to get out of that building without detection and meet me at five o’clock this evening at Rena’s townhouse.
That’s right. Your dumb cousin even invited me into her home.
If you call anyone, she’s dead.
If you tell anyone, she’s dead.
If you so much as breathe wrong, Rena is dead.
Are we clear?
See you at five.
She lifted her gaze again, leaned back in her cubicle, and scanned the room. No one was paying any attention to her. She had no idea who had set the sealed, plain, white envelope on her desk in the first place. Could have been any number of people.
And it wasn’t as if she could start questioning folks.
Because the last thing she wanted was for anyone to know about the message.
Whoever sent it couldn’t possibly realize she was digging deeper into the affairs of the Russian Mafia every day, learning more, getting closer. Could they?
Surely Anton Yenin was speculating. Her research was private. She hadn’t shared her findings with a single soul. Not even her boss. Which meant either Yenin had managed to hack into her computer, or he was hedging.
Either way, he had Rena. And although her cousin was annoying as all hell, Belinda did not wish her dead.
If Nikolav found out someone was threatening her… Hell, if her boss or the FBI or any number of other people knew about the threat…
Fuck.
She knew the danger was real. Nothing idle about it. But that didn’t mean anyone else needed to find out about the letter. She carefully put the trifold page back in the envelope and slid it into her desk.
With trembling hands, she grabbed her phone off the desk and touched the screen in a few places to dial her cousin.
She would answer. She had to. This couldn’t be happening. Her sing-songy voic
e would pick up and ooze sugar while she asked ten thousand questions about Nikolav. And Belinda would gladly answer them in exchange for peace of mind knowing Rena was perfectly fine and safe.
Instead, the male voice that startled her back to the real world made her stop breathing. “You fucking doubted me, bitch? This better be the only number you dial today.” The line went dead.
Attempting to control her racing heart, she dropped the phone in her top desk drawer and reached under the desk to grab the bag she always kept there filled with street clothes. No one would think anything of her changing and leaving the office. It happened all the time to all of them.
No way was she going to walk out the front door for everyone in the world to witness.
With determination, she headed for the bathroom where she changed out of her skirt and blouse and into her jeans and T-shirt. Thank God she’d included a pair of tennis shoes. It was chilly out, though. She needed a jacket—and definitely not the one that matched her skirt from this morning.
After depositing her bag of dress clothes back under her desk, she reached into the drawer, grabbed the note, and stuffed it in her back pocket. She wasn’t even going to take her purse or her computer bag with her.
Her hands shook as she removed her ID, credit card, and several twenties from her wallet to tuck them into her back pocket also.
With a deep breath, she stood tall and glanced around again over the tops of the cubicles. Everyone was busy. Her boss wasn’t in his office. Good. Hopefully that meant he wasn’t even in the building to question her. She didn’t want him to know what she had in mind, nor did she want to lie about it.
She stood, stepped away from her desk, and then returned to grab a ponytail holder out of the middle drawer. It would surely come in handy. On her way through the rows of cubicles, she spotted one of her co-workers leaning over her computer, an intent look on her face. That wasn’t what Belinda cared about, however. It was what hung on the back of Heidi’s chair that caught her eye.
“Hey,” Belinda said as she reached the woman’s desk. “I need to run out. You mind if I borrow your jacket? I only have my suit coat with me.”
Heidi lifted her gaze and smiled and then frowned as she tugged the jacket from the back of her chair. “Knock yourself out. It’s about fifteen years old, though.” She giggled. “And I have no idea when I threw it in the washer last.” She held it up by two fingers as if she herself couldn’t stomach the idea of touching it.
Belinda smiled as she took it from her. “No worries. Just trying to stay warm. Not trying to make a fashion statement.”
Heidi laughed. “The only way you’re going to make a fashion statement in that is if you intend to head down to one of the tent villages.”
Belinda chuckled and rolled her eyes, as if that were not exactly what she intended to do. “See you later.” She felt bad about the fact she undoubtedly wouldn’t return to the office any time soon, which left Heidi with no jacket. But it couldn’t be helped.
Neither of them was going to freeze outside. That wasn’t her intent. But the dingy-gray, zipped, hooded sweatshirt would go a long way toward hiding Belinda’s identity.
Instead of aiming for the front door, she turned to go out the back of the building. She knew there would be an agent posted out front. Chances were slim one was also positioned in the back. They didn’t have the manpower for that.
And Anton Yenin? He undoubtedly had eyes out front too. Hell, he also probably had men positioned in the back. Hopefully she could evade them either way. If not, she was toast.
When she reached the back door that led to little more than an alley behind Chicago Multimedia, she shrugged into the jacket and then gathered her hair into a loose knot at the back of her head.
With a deep breath, she zipped up the hoodie and stuffed her hands in the pockets, shrugging deeper into its warmth as if she were cold instead of hiding.
As luck would have it, when she exited the building, no one seemed to pay any attention to her, and she strode quickly down the street to the corner where she easily hailed a cab driving by. In less than a minute, she was in the backseat of the cab, slumping down to avoid being seen.
She rattled off the address and held her breath, her eyes scanning around constantly for several minutes before she officially decided she was in the clear.
It took a while in the lunch-hour traffic, but finally the man pulled to a stop. “You sure you want me to let you out here? This is a pretty rough part of town.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be fine.” She handed the man a twenty. “Keep the change.” And then she slid from the cab, pulled the hood over her head, and ambled down the street, trying with all her might to walk slowly, casually, as if she were in no hurry.
When she reached her destination and pushed through the front door, she realized she’d been holding her breath. She hadn’t been able to look around to make sure no one followed her or saw her enter the building. Any odd behavior on her part would have aroused suspicion she didn’t need. And she had no doubt at all that several people watched her walk straight through that front door—both good guys and bad guys.
All she could do was hope none of them paid a bit of attention to a woman on foot wandering down the street in jeans, tennis shoes, and a dirty gray jacket.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anton stared into the mirror in his bathroom, combing his hair while he waited for Dayton to answer his phone.
He’d been back in Chicago less than twelve hours. Coincidentally the men he’d hired to follow Belinda’s cousin had found her at a bar last night. Anton jumped at the opportunity and headed straight for her location when he got off the plane.
Drunk was the best kind of woman, especially when he needed them to be compliant. And that crazy bitch had easily fallen for his charm and led him back to her townhouse. Once he got there, it took every ounce of strength to walk away without fucking her.
But he had shit to do, and he was exhausted. It was inconvenient that he needed to deal with Belinda Gallo in the first place. Stupid cunt meddling in his affairs. What he needed to do was get to the lab and move forward with his own plans. The clock was ticking. He needed that drug. Now. Yesterday.
After watching his father die, his internal clock had sped up. Chances looked unlikely the drug would heal something he was already sick with. With that new knowledge, he wanted the drug in his system before he got sick. And that meant he needed antibodies for Hep A. If he didn’t already have Hep A antibodies, he needed to find a way to contract the disease and fast. Again now. Yesterday.
Dealing with Belinda Gallo wasn’t on his short list, and it pissed him the fuck off that she’d made herself rise to the top of it. The bitch would pay.
So Anton had improvised. After easily drugging Rena, he’d called his men to come in and take over babysitting, leaving those huge, sweet tits untouched. He left one man inside her place, ensuring she didn’t wake prematurely and cause trouble. Another man was outside watching the townhouse for unwanted guests.
If Anton was lucky, his men would be able to snatch Belinda when she arrived and leave Rena without her ever knowing she’d been used as a hostage trade. The bitch would wake up later that night having missed a day of her life, hung over and confused.
Meanwhile Belinda would be in Anton’s possession. He’d seen pictures of her. She was Italian and hot. Her tits weren’t as big as Rena’s, but still nice to look at. Not that he had plans to tap that cunt, either. At least not in the next few days. His libido would have to remain on hold until other matters were settled.
The important thing was getting Belinda off the street and keeping her from fucking with him.
Dayton finally picked up. “Boss.”
“Where are you?”
“You asked me to watch Belinda’s office. I’m doing it. What am I looking for?” Dayton asked.
“Have you seen her come back out yet?”
“No. She’s still inside. I put a bug in her purse the other ni
ght.”
“Good. I’d rather hear that you tapped her phone, but I don’t suppose she’s gone anywhere without it. Hell, most of the women I know even take it to the bathroom.”
Dayton chuckled. “Not a chance. But her purse is just as good. Slid it into her wallet. Even if she takes that part out, I’ll still be able to trace her.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Stay on the front door. I want to know when that woman leaves the office. Follow her. Do not lose that bitch. I’ll call you back in a few hours.”
“On it.”
Anton ended the call, combed his hair, and left the bathroom.
»»•««
Belinda wove through the dozen people sitting in the clinic’s waiting room until she reached the receptionist.
Mandy lifted her face and smiled. “Bel—”
Belinda interrupted her. “Is Dr. Schwan available? It’s important.”
Mandy’s face fell, and then her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, but instead of speaking, she stood and walked around the desk to the left to open the door that led to the patient rooms.
Belinda knew the stairs to Katie’s apartment were at the far left end of the hall, and her office was at the far right end of the hall.
Mandy’s brown bob shook as she motioned Belinda into the hallway with a wave of her hand. She pointed to the right. “Go on in her office. I’ll let her know you’re there.”
“Thanks.” Belinda lowered the hood of her borrowed jacket off her head as she walked. “And Mandy?” She turned to speak to the sweet, rounded receptionist again.
Mandy nodded. “Go on. Don’t you worry. I never saw you today.”
Belinda blew out a breath. Thank God for Mandy. Without words, the woman understood the importance of discretion.
When Belinda stepped into Katie’s office, she found Alena inside. The petite woman was up on her tiptoes, reaching to put a book on a shelf above her head. She spun around when she heard Belinda enter, and a smile split her face. And then her smile fell just as quickly. “Belinda, you okay?”
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