Ava was right—I’d been distracted this past week, busy with my chess game. Not the unfinished one with my uncle in the library, but the one playing out in real life.
I’d had my tech guy hack into Ivan’s financial records dating back to my family’s deaths and paid him a hefty sum to work day and night until he found what I’d expected to find all along. A large sum of money had been wired from one of my uncle’s secret offshore accounts to an anonymous account two days before my family’s death, and another equal sum had been sent the day after. An even larger amount had been sent to a second anonymous account the day after the “burglars” died.
I’d paid the hacker another eye-watering sum to track down the second killer. He’d contacted me when I was on my way to meet Ava, saying he’d located the person, a notorious killer for hire who went by the name of Falcon. They’d apparently retired, but I didn’t need their “skills.” I only needed a name.
As a gesture of goodwill, I’d wired Falcon twenty-five percent of the fifty grand I’d promised them if they would confirm who hired them to kill the burglars.
Now, I waited.
11:59 p.m.
I stared at the blank black screen of Vortex, a fully encrypted messaging site popular amongst those in the criminal underworld. Unhackable and untraceable, it was where most of the world’s seediest transactions took place.
A chill whipped around me.
I hadn’t bothered to turn the heater on. I’d bought this house in D.C. under a shell company name because I wanted a place where I could carry out my more illicit activities without anyone knowing, not even my uncle. It boasted a security system the Pentagon would be jealous of, including a hidden jammer that disabled all electronic devices inside the house unless you had the code, which only I knew.
12:00 a.m.
A new message flashed onscreen.
Midnight on the dot. Gotta appreciate a punctual killer.
I read the message calmly, my blood colder than the chill creeping along the floorboards and bare walls.
No greeting, no questions. Just a name, like I’d requested.
I wired the rest of the money to the Falcon and sat there in the dark, mulling over the news.
I knew. Of course I knew. All the evidence had pointed to it, but now I had my confirmation.
The man responsible for my family’s death wasn’t Michael Chen, Ava’s father.
It was Ivan Volkov, my uncle.
34
Alex
I made pancakes.
I rarely cooked—why waste my time doing something I didn’t enjoy and which I could pay other people to do? But I made an exception today. I was waiting for a visitor, and I didn’t want to miss them by eating out.
The doorbell rang.
9:07 a.m., according to the clock on my microwave. Earlier than I’d expected, which meant he was eager.
I shut off the stove and sipped my tea as I answered the door. When I did, I had to mask my surprise.
Not who I was expecting.
“What are you doing here, Sunshine?”
Not the warmest greeting, but she needed to leave before he arrived.
Mild panic shot through me at the thought of them meeting.
Ava frowned. She looked exhausted, and I wondered if she was having nightmares again. They’d eased since she recovered her memories, but they still popped up from time to time.
Worry and guilt washed over me. We hadn’t spoken in days. She was still angry with me, and I’d been caught up in my plans. It was hard to convene a corporate board the week before Christmas—in secret, no less—but I held enough blackmail info over every member that they’d acquiesced to my request.
“We need to talk. About us,” Ava said.
Not words any man wants to hear come out of his girlfriend’s mouth, especially when he and said girlfriend were on rocky ground. I couldn’t wait until this mess with my uncle was over so I could give her the attention she deserved.
As for my twisted and apparently ill-placed revenge plan against her “father”…that was a confession for another day.
If I ever confessed.
Michael Chen was a sociopathic bastard even if he hadn’t plotted my family’s murder, and I was tempted to follow through with my original plan to hire someone to off him in prison. But I wouldn’t…yet.
“Can we talk later?” A familiar gray Mercedes came into view, and my muscles tensed. “Now isn’t a good time.”
Ava shook her head. “It’s been a week, Christmas is in two days, and I’m tired of us tiptoeing around each other. You’ve been acting weird for a while now, and I deserve to know what’s going on. If you don’t want to be with me any longer—” She exhaled a sharp breath, her face tinting red. “Just tell me. Don’t string me along.”
Goddamn it. If only Josh had come home for Christmas like he’d planned, he would’ve kept Ava away. But there’d been an earthquake in his volunteer region—he was okay, thank God—and the people needed all the medical help they could get in the aftermath, so he’d stayed. I’d donated a hefty sum to help with his organization’s expenses as well. Partly out of charity, mostly out of guilt.
Ava wasn’t the only Chen I’d fucked over these past few years.
My uncle parked and got out of his car, his face thunderous.
My grip tightened around my mug.
“Of course I want to be with you,” I said in a low voice while keeping an eye on Ivan. “I’ll always want to be with you. But I—”
“Alex.” My uncle’s pleasant tone belied the fury simmering in his eyes. When Ava turned, startled, he smoothed his face into a gracious smile. “Who’s this lovely creature?”
If the mug were glass, it would’ve cracked by now.
“Ava, Uncle Ivan,” I responded, voice clipped.
“Ah, the infamous Ava. How lovely to meet you, dear.”
She smiled, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t realize you were expecting company,” she told me. “Um, you’re right. We can talk later—”
“Nonsense. I’m just here for a friendly chat with my nephew.” Ivan placed a hand on Ava’s back and guided her into the house. Get your fucking hands off her. Anger streaked through me, but I tamped it down.
I couldn’t lose my cool. Not now.
We settled in the dining room—Ava and I on one side, Ivan on the other. Tension laced the air.
“Anyone want a drink?” I set my near-empty mug on the table. “Tea? Hot chocolate?”
Ava shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“Green tea for me.” Ivan patted his stomach. I returned a few minutes later with his drink and found him in deep conversation with Ava.
“…Thanksgiving weekend?” My uncle took the tea from me with an oily smile. “Alex, Ava was telling me about how you spent your Thanksgiving. He loves his holidays with the Chens,” he told her. “He finds them so…enlightening.”
My muscles burned from how tense I was while Ava returned his smile with her own uncertain one.
“What can I do for you, uncle?” I asked, taking my seat with careful nonchalance. “It must be important if you’re here this early. Long drive from Philly.”
“I wanted to congratulate my favorite nephew.” Ivan’s smile tightened. I didn’t bother pointing out I was his only nephew. “Ava, dear, did you know you’re sitting next to the new CEO of Archer Group?”