“Okay,” he said, the words still tinged with worry. “Call me later if you need to talk anything through.”
“I will. And Julian? Thanks. For everything,” I added before he could disconnect. In case I never got another chance to tell him.
CHAPTER 30
My heels clicked with purpose over the tiled entry of the jail. Resisting the urge to conceal my face, I held my chin high, swiping away a long dark strand of the wig as it blew into my eyes. I could do this. My name was Ekatarina Rybakov. I was Feliks Zhirov’s personal attorney, here to review some court documents with my client. I clung to my messenger bag. The papers inside were copies of Vero’s last accounting exam. Delia had scribbled smiley faces on them with watercolor markers, and I was pretty sure the green blob was a booger of Zach’s. Hopefully, the guard would be too busy trying to look down my blouse to notice.
The attendant at the counter was an older woman with thinning gray hair and red-framed glasses. She handed me a basket without looking up. Her name badge said OFFICER LOIS PYLE.
“Keys, cell phone, anything in your pockets,” she droned, sliding a clipboard across the counter. I surrendered all my personal belongings and signed the form using Kat’s name. “ID?”
I snapped the edge of Kat’s business card as I set it in front of her. Officer Pyle’s eyes slid to it, then back to her screen. “I’ll need to see some identification.”
The fact that she didn’t seem to know Kat personally felt like a small victory. I studied my nails, channeling Theresa’s unflappable inner bitch. Vero had glued on falsies and polished them a deep blood-red, the same color I’d seen Kat wearing in the restaurant. “I left my license in the pocket of my other suit. It’s currently at the dry cleaner’s, enjoying a hot tumble. Which is more than I can say for myself. And yet, duty calls, so here I am. If we could just get on with it.”
“I can’t let you in without ID.”
“Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to give you one. As it is, I’ll be spending all day at the DMV tomorrow having mine replaced.” I pushed the business card toward her and tapped Kat’s name. “I’m in this place almost every damn day for this man. You can look me up. I was just here yesterday.” It was a gamble, but I was willing to bet an empire as big as Feliks’s would require daily briefings at the minimum.
Officer Pyle glared at my card. With a huff, she typed something into her computer. My heart stopped as her fingers paused over the keys. She raised an eyebrow.
“Go on,” she grumbled. “But next time, bring your ID.”
I nearly melted into a puddle of relief. With a curt nod, I surrendered my messenger bag, turned on my heel, and sashayed to the metal detector, my file in hand and stilettos snapping.
I shifted uneasily as the officer inspected my file, but he was more concerned with removing the tiny staple from the papers than what was written on them. I was instructed to wait for an escort. Doors buzzed, jangling my already-spent nerves as they clanked open and I was guided into the jail. Officers gossiped loudly in the corridors and I averted my eyes, praying I didn’t know any of them. Their chatter quieted as I passed. Hopefully Vero was right and they were too busy staring at my ass to notice anything else about me.
My toes and heels were already blistering, the balls of my feet aching from the stiff leather shoes, but I was far too nervous to sit when my escort deposited me in an empty meeting room. I paced the length of it, freezing when the door opened.
“A little late for a visit, Katya.” Feliks Zhirov paused just inside the room. His coal-black eyes surveilled me through a fringe of tousled bangs, the tightening of his lips framed by a thick shadow of dark scruff. He was taller, leaner than I remembered, his coldly handsome features cut sharp. In his baggy orange jumpsuit, without his smooth-shaved face and gel-styled hair, without his fancy cuff links and tailored suit, Feliks looked far more dangerous somehow … less like the man who ordered the hits, and more like the man who killed with his own hands.
“Professional visitation ends at ten,” the officer said, oblivious to the flare of tension in the room. “Knock when you’re ready, and someone will escort you out.”
Feliks nodded once for both of us. My breath caught as the officer stepped out and closed the door. A single set of restraints bound Feliks’s wrists, connected loosely by a chain around his jumpsuit. Feliks strolled toward the table where I stood, his movements almost predatory, his dark eyes missing nothing as he took a seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Ms. Donovan?” His voice was silken and dangerous. I glanced up at the camera on the ceiling and Feliks’s gaze followed, a slight smile tugging at his cheek. “They do not record our conversations. Only our behavior.” I swallowed when his piercing eyes settled on my throat.