Midnight Sanctuary (Bugrov Bratva #2)(45)
I notice the bruise on Nikolai’s neck from when I grabbed him earlier. We’ve given each other our fair share of wounds over the years. But we always come together at the end of the day when the stakes get high enough.
Blood is thicker than water. That matters now more than ever.
The sun is slowly creeping out of the sky as I get to my feet. “You need to get some sleep,” I tell Nikolai, slapping him on the back. It’s as close to an apology as either of us will ever get.
He eyes me for a while before he sighs and eases. “I will when you do.”
He heads back to his place and I take a detour to the kitchen to make a tray before going to Alyssa’s room. I walk in quietly, hoping not to wake her, but she’s conscious and sitting up in bed, clearly waiting for me.
“Hey,” she mumbles quietly, nervously.
I pause at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Anxious, worried, hopeful,” she rattles off. “Did you look into who this Dominik person might be? Do you think he has Polly? Do you know where you can find him?”
I put the tray down on her bedside table and force her to lean back down on the pillows. “You need to take a deep breath and drink some tea.”
She takes the cup I hold out distractedly, but she makes no move to sip from it. “I don’t want tea.”
“Drink it anyway.”
“Uri—”
“I’m working on it, okay? I’m not sure who this Dominik is but I’m going to find out. We’ll get Polly back, I promise you that.”
With that promise secured, she takes a sip of the tea. “You haven’t slept all night, have you?”
“I need to strike while the iron is hot.”
She sighs and puts her cup down so she can grab my hands. “I’m worried about you. You need to rest. This isn’t healthy, Uri.”
“When I sleep, I dream. So I’d rather avoid it.”
“Come here.” She pulls me onto the bed in front of her with my back to her face. Then she pulls off my shirt and starts massaging me, starting from my shoulders and working her way down to my back. Her hands are small and cool on my skin and not strong enough to make much of a dent in the deep-seated knots tying me up. But it feels good nonetheless. To let myself sit here and do nothing, to let my eyes flutter closed while she pours her love into me, one fingertip at a time.
Eventually, my eyes start to tire. She coaxes me onto my side and slips in front of me.
“Alyssa…”
“Shh,” she croons hypnotically. “You’ve been taking care of me. Now, it’s my turn to take care of you. Just rest. I’m here. I’m right here.”
27
URI
The few hours of sleep I manage to get after Alyssa’s hands work their magic does wonders. I feel the most alert, the most capable, the strongest I’ve felt in a while. My thoughts are clear and focused. My determination is as steely as ever.
We’re going to bring my sister home.
While Alyssa is upstairs spending time with Lev, I pore over every bit of information my team has managed to dig up on Sobakin and both Dominiks.
The more I read up on Evanoff, the less I believe he has anything to do with Sobakin or Polly’s capture. In fact, there might even be some enmity between him and Boris based on a few deals gone south involving the two men’s respective organizations. Sobakin has burned a few too many bridges in his lifetime, it seems.
When my phone pings, I reach for it absentmindedly.
DIMIV: Call now.
The blood rushes to my fingers as I rush to dial him. He answers immediately. “Two things. Dominik Evanoff is not your man. There’s bad blood between them, lots of it. It looks like Sobakin was responsible for the deaths of Evanoff’s father and uncle.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. What’s the second thing?”
“I looked into Boris’s dealings in Moscow. One of my hackers managed to get a record of wire transactions made from Boris’s account to an offshore account linked to a woman living right here in Moscow. Elena Chernoff is her name.”
My body is pinging with adrenaline. I get out of my seat and start pacing, bearing down the same track Nikolai wore into my carpets last night. “Doesn’t ring a bell. But she has to mean something to Sobakin if he’s providing for her.”
“It’s not her he’s providing for,” Dimiv clarifies. “It’s her ten-year-old son. Artem. There’s no father listed on his birth certificate, but I got a look at a picture of the boy a short while ago. If Sobakin isn’t the daddy, you can go ahead and shoot me between the eyes.”
Yes. Fucking yes.
“Dimiv Bugrov, I owe you one. Several, actually.”
“That’s what family is for, cousin.”
“Keep digging. I’ve got business to take care of on this end.”
The moment I hang up, I fly out of my office and towards the shed. Alan squeals and hides under his blankets when I kick the cell door open.
Sobakin, on the other hand, offers me an ugly smile. “You should know by now—I won’t talk.”
“Not even for Artem?”
The moment his name is out of my mouth, Boris’s head snaps up. The smile melts off his face and his eyes look watery. The fear on his face is evident.