Resurrection

by Wendy Million

  Chapter Fourteen

  Carys

  We’ve made Valeriya’s apartment base camp while we sort through her papers, search for clues. Jay is phoning airlines, checking security footage, calling taxi companies. Finn’s on a conference call with an IT company. They’re supposed to be hacking into her phone records or her email—preferably both.

  Seems like Finn’s right about Valeriya fucking me over. But since we don’t understand why she vacated her apartment, he can’t declare a complete victory yet. Or at least, that’s what I told him. Really the two of us sitting down for a sober conversation over dinner, discussing things beyond this work, terrifies me. There’s only the tiniest thread of my willpower intact.

  As I sort through the papers in a desk drawer, I come across a pile that stops me short. The surrogacy documents she signed. Back when I was with Eric, Valeriya responded to an advertisement I ran for a surrogate to carry a baby for me. In the end, the timing hadn’t been right, and I changed my mind. But I liked her enough to offer her a junior job in my Russian office. She worked her way up to the second in command to Ekaterina. A lot of time and determination went into her getting this position. Why would she do this to me?

  I’m about to rip up the contract when Finn appears in the doorway.

  “Find anything?” he says.

  I twist my mouth as I drop the pile of documents into the drawer. “Nothing useful.” Turning to him, I close it with my hip. “We need to follow the cash.”

  “You got someone who can trace where her money went?”

  “Maybe. I need to call Ekaterina.”

  “And she is?”

  “The lead person of this division. She’s in Moscow working on getting us more contracts, but she might be aware of something. We believed Valeriya was on top of the warehouse theft.”

  Finn shakes his head, his shoulder on the doorframe. “The only thing Valeriya has been on top of is her own agenda.”

  “Any luck with the IT company?”

  “Gotta give them a few hours, and you’ll need to wire the payment to them.”

  Finding her might cost more than backing down. I can’t waste time and resources on a dead end. “At some point, it’ll be more expensive to find her than to let her go.”

  “I’m sure she’s counting on your level-headed approach.”

  I laugh. “And your approach would be?”

  A hint of a smile touches Finn’s lips. “You’re aware.”

  “Pursue her to the ends of the earth and burn her on a stake?”

  He holds up his hands. “My revenge isn’t always rational.”

  “Not always, huh?”

  His expression is pensive. “Maybe never.” He cocks his head. “In my business, you needed a rep to keep people in line. Everyone in Boston understood you didn’t mess with the Donaghey family. First, because my old man was such a terror, and then because I was even worse.” There isn’t a hint of remorse in his words.

  “You’re proud of that.” I cross my arms and stare at him.

  Not an accusation, more of an observation. I’ve never considered how Finn feels about the reputation he’s built. Perhaps part of me hoped he regretted at least some aspect. Yeah, he’s impulsive, reckless even, but he makes himself sound as though he doesn’t even have a conscience.

  “Come on, Carys. You don’t think I should be? After my father died, the organization didn’t collapse. We got stronger, bigger.”

  On the tip of my tongue are the words, You also got raided by the FBI, but I’m the one who led them there. “When your father died.” I punctuate each word with a pause. “Finn, you played a role.”

  “I didn’t kill him.” He springs off the doorframe and shoves his hands into his jean pockets. “I just didn’t stop the Volkovs.”

  “Semantics.”

  He shrugs. “Sure, but it’s also true. Are you that upset about one less bad man in the world?”

  I cross the room so we’re standing close enough I can read his face. “I find it difficult to believe his death doesn’t bother you even a bit. Did you and your father have a complicated relationship? Yeah. Did he have your mother killed? Yeah, he did. But he was still your father.”

  “And the world is a better place without him.”

  His expression is hard, impenetrable. I’m heading into areas Finn doesn’t enjoy discussing. Even when we were younger, his father, the business, the things he did, they weren’t topics we delved into beyond a surface level. He didn’t dwell on the choices he made for his father, for the business when he was with me. To me, that meant he didn’t like making them, didn’t enjoy doing them.

  “Look, Carys. I’m an asshole. I’ve never pretended otherwise. Whether or not you admit it, that gets your engine revving.” He closes the distance between us even more. “You might not want to want me,” he lowers his lips to my ear, “but you do.”

  His breath breezes across my neck. My heart explodes, galloping, straining for more. His assessment is true. I don’t want to want him, and yet he’s all I want.

  “People don’t change,” he says.

  “Some do,” I whisper, and his jaw tightens.

  “Too late for me. I’m an old dog.”

  Jay clears his throat behind Finn, and we spring apart. I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten, though my body is warm, languid with desire. Without Jay as a buffer, I would have slept with Finn on every conceivable surface at every location we’d gone to in the last twenty-four hours. The tension between us is almost more than I can bear.

  “Valeriya?” I ask Jay, over Finn’s shoulder.

  “No, but I got a lead on who intercepted your money transfer to Ricardo.”

  I raise my eyebrows in question.

  “Charles put a stop to it.”

  A shot of annoyance mixed with confusion mingles in me. “My father? How?”

  “He has privileges on the account you used. The bank says he would have he received an automatic alert about the money in transit, and he would have rerouted it back.”

  Placing my hand on my forehead, I make small circles with my fingertips. Why would my father bother to step in? He’d have no reason to interfere unless he found out why I was using the money. My relationship with Finn was a sore spot for him, partly because it ruined a business relationship, partly because it almost ruined me.

  “The money went back into the same account?” I say.

  “No, into a separate account.” Jay hesitates and then says, “Must not have wanted you to know Ricardo didn’t get the transfer.”

  Motherfucker. “I’ll deal with him later,” I say. “Ricardo is dead, so the delayed payment isn’t an issue anymore. My warehouse, Valeriya, those are priorities.”

  “And the threats,” Finn adds. “We don’t have any idea who was threatening you and why.”

  “Even you said those were Mickey Mouse.” I close the desk drawers and step around him into the main living space. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s also on the back burner for later.”

  “The threat in Switzerland was amateur, yeah. But if it was the same person opening fire at Ricardo’s piece-of-shit house, that ups the ante.” He doesn’t follow me, only increases the volume of his voice.

  “Any news from the airports? Taxi companies?” I ask Jay as I grab my purse off the couch and riffle through it for my phone.

  Finn’s sigh of annoyance echoes in the apartment. Those threats are the last thing I need to worry about. Doesn’t matter what he thinks.

  “No record of her taking a taxi or leaving via a traditional airline. She could be traveling under another name. Fake documents are easy enough to get here,” Jay says.

  “Finn, your IT guys were going to email me or text me information?”

  “They’ll be in touch. I’ve used them before. They’re good. If there is something to be found, they’ll find it.”

  “I want to go to the bank, talk to my contact in person, see if he knows where the money went. Follow the money, right?” I check
with Finn and Jay for confirmation. “The money won’t lie.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Finn

  Carys goes into the office at the bank by herself. The building is shiny windows, gleaming metal, and polished floors. I’m not sure what I expected of a Russian bank, but not this modern. Jay and I are outside the door in case there’s any trouble. He’s glued to his phone, trying to chase up leads on Valeriya or the warehouse or any of the other fucking things going wrong. I miss having a device. Standing here with nothing to do gives me too much time to think.

  Part of me is annoyed Carys didn’t see Valeriya for the lying bitch she’s turned out to be. Carys has always been that way—loves hard, finds the best in people, even when she shouldn’t.

  The office door swings open, and she hitches her purse onto her shoulder. Jay and I flank her.

  “And?” I ask.

  She takes a deep breath. “She didn’t move the money.”

  “That’s a good sign.” Jay stops fiddling with his phone and tucks it into his pocket.

  “She cleaned out her accounts. There’s no way to trace her.”

  “At least you were right about one thing.” If she’s gone, we have even less time before the scent fades. We’re wasting our energy here, so I head for the exit.

  “And what was that?” Carys trails behind me.

  “Nobody in Russia wants to be poor.” At the exit, I scan outside and check my gun in my waistband. “Also means we’re at a dead end to find her unless Jay can pull a rabbit out of a hat.”

  “Lots of hats,” he says. “No rabbits yet.”

  The car is parked close to the curb. We’re careful to keep Carys between us, searching for any signs of danger. I hate not knowing who shot at us earlier. If they were after Ricardo, we might be in the clear. Until we know for sure, I’m not taking any chances.

  “I bet you really want a drink.” I tease her as I open the door to the backseat. My head stays raised, my focus on sweeping the buildings and other cars.

  “My life for a glass of wine.” She climbs in and scoots over so I can follow behind her.

  “Shame you won’t get one tonight.”

  “She could have taken the money out through coercion.”

  Look at her trying to wiggle out of our deal. “Did the manager mention someone else?” I settle into my seat and give her a mild look.

  Her lips twist, and she takes in the view out the window. “No.”

  Jay slams his door and starts the engine. We leave the curb and ease onto the busy streets.

  “I get it. No one wants to admit they misread a situation. Happened to me recently. It was a killer.” I offer her a sly smile, and she shakes her head. I muffle my amusement with a splayed hand before continuing, “She’s fucked you over. We don’t understand why, but it’s safe to say it’s happened.”

  “She must be involved in the warehouse theft.” The scenery whizzes past us as we head back to the hotel. “Why else would she run?”

  “Maybe,” I concede.

  “You’re not convinced? You believe she’s screwed me over, but the most logical answer doesn’t make sense to you.”

  “You’ve got all this shit swirling. Your business is a toilet bowl right now. The warehouse. The threats. Valeriya missing. FBI dickhead dead. Charles interfering with the cash transfer. Could everything be connected? Possibly. Coincidences this great don’t exist.”

  “Even still, Valeriya’s piece of the puzzle has to be the warehouse.”

  I stare at her for a moment. “You ask the bank manager for the video footage of Valeriya taking out her money?”

  “I did. Jay always likes to check.”

  “I will too when it comes in.”

  Carys smooths her brow. “None of this is your problem, Finn. I don’t—you don’t have to take this on.”

  “You think I’ll leave you wading through this on your own? I don’t give a rat’s ass when I resettle somewhere. I have no plans. I gotta figure out which banks accounts the FBI didn’t freeze or find ways to recover cash from the house in Boston so I can start over, anyway.”

  “I can go to Boston, get you the money if you give me the codes.”

  “Nah.” I flex my hands. “They’ll be watching the house.” What I don’t say is that if Lorcan told the FBI anything, they’ll understand the easiest way to get to me is through Carys. Hauling her in will get my attention.

  A buzzing sound emanates from her purse. She digs around for a minute before her hand emerges with her phone in triumph. When she sees the caller, she frowns.

  As soon as she answers, and I realize she’s talking to my IT guys, I keep a close ear on the conversation while staring out the window. Valeriya doesn’t have any suspicious email activity, but she made a five-minute call to someone in Chicago after we left the other day. Carys takes a pen and a pad of paper out of her purse and starts writing the digits. She doesn’t finish, though. Instead she brings the pen to her lips, and she chews on the tip as the person on the other end keeps explaining something.

  “Is that the only time the number was called?” she asks.

  I can’t hear the reply, but her frown deepens.

  “Right. Okay. Thanks. This is helpful.”

  When the call ends, I give her a minute to tell us the details, but she’s focused out the window, not bothering to speak.

  “And?” I prompt.

  Her sigh is heavy. “She contacted someone in my Chicago office before she went to the bank.”

  “In Chicago?” Jay’s grimace is visible in the rearview mirror. “We got a fucking mole?”

  “The timing is suspicious,” Carys admits, twirling the pen. “But she’s called that number several times in the last few months. The general switchboard. Your IT gurus said they couldn’t get an extension off her log.”

  I rub my jaw and then cross my arms. “Would it be normal for her to call there? Who would she talk to? You?”

  “Possibly.” She stares at the seat, the pen spinning across her fingers. I’m tempted to snatch it. The motion is fucking distracting. “There are a few people. Eric. Hailey. Eliza. Daniel.”

  “They each have something to do with the Russia division?”

  “Sort of. They’re employees she could call, and there would be a plausible reason to speak to them. Accounting. Product movement. Storage. Ordering.” She peers at me. “Ekaterina might be able to account for some calls. The IT company is faxing a list of the days and times to the hotel.”

  “When can we meet with her?”

  “She sent me an email. She’s back in the area tomorrow.” She drops the pen into her purse. “I have two hundred people working in the Chicago office.”

  I nod. She doesn’t need to tell me what that means. If those calls weren’t placed to the four individuals she mentioned, we’ll be chasing our tail. “The front reception,” I say. “Who answers when a person doesn’t have the extension?”

  “Lilly. Most of the time, it’s Lilly.”

  “We start with Ekaterina. If that doesn’t work, we see if Lilly remembers Valeriya calling for anyone in particular.”

  “You can access employees through their last name in the system without ever speaking to Lilly.”

  “People get lazy. Get in a hurry. Multitask. We follow the leads until there’s a dead end, and then we bulldoze a new path.”

  She laughs. Her face, alight with amusement, makes my stomach clench.

  “I like your thinking, man.” Jay points to me in the mirror. “I’ll drive the dozer.”

  “First,” I say. “We go to dinner. I saw a gourmet burger on the hotel bar’s menu.”

  “You want to eat a burger in the hotel bar?”

  “I’m in the mood for a burger and a beer. What are you going to get?” I tip my lips up. “Oh, yes. You can’t drink tonight. So just the burger, then?”

  Carys twists a ring on her right hand and gives me a sideways glance. “You weren’t serious about that bet, were you?”

  “All b
ets are serious. Always. I don’t make them unless I can win. And when I win, I collect.”

  Our gazes connect before mine wanders over her body, the ever-present desire humming between us once more.

  “I would’ve been happy to have you collect if you’d won,” I say.

  A dull pink rises to her cheeks. “You don’t even know what I would have asked for.”

  I chuckle. “Don’t I?”

  Her blush darkens, and I laugh again.

  “On your right,” Jay says as we sidle up to the hotel. “What’s the plan, boss?”

  “Dinner at the hotel, I guess.” She closes her purse. “You can go to your room. We’ll be fine.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “You can eat at another table or in the lobby. We don’t understand what’s going on. You’re not minimizing the little security you have. If anything, we should call in more people.”

  Her jaw tightens, and she purses her lips. “I’ve never been under a direct threat before.”

  “There was that stalker,” Jay chimes in from the front before taking a valet spot.

  “Years ago,” Carys says. “And in Chicago, which was both better and worse. I had lots of guards.”

  “You had a stalker?” I frown, wondering where this person might be now.

  She gives me a wry look. “He saw me in a magazine. Had a vision we were married. With kids, no less. He had a very elaborate life cooked up.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Got too close for comfort.” Jay slides out the driver’s side. When he opens the passenger door for Carys, he continues, “Ended up being committed to a psychiatric ward by his family.”

  She climbs out, and I round the car, my gaze zipping the perimeter for any threats. If she stays in the same hotel, it would be very easy for someone to track her. “How long ago?”

  “Ten years.” She glances at Jay for confirmation. “It was the catalyst for my relationship with Eric.”

  “Eric didn’t seem like such an asshole back then,” he clarifies.

  She grimaces. “Oh, he was always an ass. He just hid it under fancy clothes for a while.” When she gazes at me, her expression changes, but I can’t read it. “Most men don’t turn out to be who you think they are.”