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“Ms. Brumfield?” a cultured male voice asked.
I sat bolt upright in bed.
“I am she.” I then frowned, wondering if that was the correct way to say I was me.
“This is Jefferson Evador. I’m a special agent with the FBI,” he introduced himself.
My stomach was doing summersaults inside my torso as I said, “Hi.”
“I assume you were aware of the DNA tests that were conducted on you?” he asked.
“Y-yes,” I stuttered. “I am.”
“The DNA tests were a hundred percent match,” he said. “You are the daughter of Josey and Wayne Semyonov. You’re Marina Semyonov.”
Marina Semyonov. “Call me Maven, please.”
I felt sick to my stomach all of a sudden.
How was this going to work?
What did I do now?
“Of course,” he said. “I’m assuming you have a lot of questions.”
“I do,” I confirmed.
“Where would be best for you to meet?” he asked.
I thought about it for all of two seconds before I said, “Can I get you to call me back in like ten minutes? I need to talk to a friend who can let me know where best to meet.” I paused. “We’re worried that my dad—not dad—will try something, and I want to be in a safe place.”
Like hell I’d tell him where that safe place was, though.
He may be on the up and up, but my dad was the chief of police for Dallas PD. I wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances.
“Of course,” he said. “Ten minutes.”
I got up, snatched up my clothes from the floor, and stepped into them on the run.
When I got to the living room, I was very unsurprised to find a Carter already standing in it.
“Hey,” I breathed. “Where’s Boss?”
I mean, priorities.
“He’s sleeping in the sun,” Garrett jerked his chin at me.
I walked over to the sleeping dog and bent down, giving him some cuddles which he didn’t bother to return.
“What has your feathers ruffled?” Garrett questioned.
I stood up and turned before explaining.
He nodded. “Unsurprised, right?”
“Right.” I licked my lips nervously. “The special agent in charge, Jefferson Evador, wants to know where we can meet to discuss.”
Garrett pulled out his phone and placed a call.
