Page 127 of Savage Don

Something isn’t adding up.

Maksim’s lopsided face twists as he tries to remember. “In the revolving doors, just before I went numb, he might have been saying something about another incentive…” he mumbles.

“What?” I push, desperate for more.

“Fuck. Everything is still so blurry… Did he mention that she might have also offered him blackmail on some high-profile political families in return for his services? Yeah, that might have been it… or was he just stalling?”

“Political blackmail?” Leonid and I both grumble at the same time.

“This is the first I’m hearing of that,” Leonid assures me.

“Which one of our enemies would have dirt on a political family? What woman could possibly be powerful enough to get that type of shit, while staying off of our radar?” I ask out loud, fingers clenching and unclenching as I begin to pace back and forth along Maksim’s bed.

Who the fuck could this mystery woman be?

For hours, I rack my brain for an answer, as do Maksim and Leonid.

It’s hard to tell how long the three of us stay in this hospital room for, brainstorming, but by the time I even bother to look up from my feet, it’s dark outside.

I stare out of the room’s single black window, but all I can see is my own reflection. I look worried.

Fuck. I look weak.

That needs to change.

Before I can twist my melting features into a snarl, though, I feel my phone start to ring in my pocket.

Immediately, I think of Francesca.

She’s been alone all day, and that’s after I promised her that she could go back to school. After I promised that I would buy her.

Is she waiting up for me, worried sick?

Or is she glad that I’m gone?

No. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about her. There is no future there unless you figure this shit out first.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone.

The call is coming from an unknown number. Usually, I wouldn’t even bother to answer. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

“What?” I bark, picking up.

“We have decided to accept your offer.”

It takes me a second to recognize Domenico’s voice.

Running a hand through my hair, I compose myself. This fucker can’t hear any signs of weakness or frustration in me. He can’t know that I don’t suspect him anymore. He was hiding something from me at our meeting earlier.

I’ll find out what that is, and I’ll make him pay for it.

But that will have to wait.

“Good,” I say, as if I’ve been expecting it all evening. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” Domenico responds, his voice gravelly, like he’s been yelling since we parted ways this morning. “We would like to see our daughter one last time before you take her.”

‘Who’s we?” I growl.