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“Fuck!” My father hisses, and Marco draws in a breath.
Their faces have gone ashen, and their eyes flash with fear. My fists clench at my side when the green-eyed giant tells the man with him to hold Isabella. He finishes carving a message into my father’s arm and pinning one to Marco’s wall.
Right before he leaves, the green-eyed giant collects all the shot glasses we were drinking from. He takes the vodka bottle from Isabella and walks to the camera near the door. He holds the bottle up,
“Never drink or eat anything delivered to you from a pissed-off woman. Isn’t that what you once taught me, old man?” He laughs, and that’s when I notice it. The tattoo of the dagger on his wrist.
“James, can you run it back and freeze it when that fuckhead’s talking.” Walking to Marco’s desk I pick up the dagger.
The dagger has a dragon intricately carved into the silver handle with back-to-back K’s and the number 1 below it as an emblem in the middle of the creature’s chest. My blood runs cold, seeing the deadly blade stained with my father’s blood.
Leaning closer a memory flashes through my mind—I’ve seen it before. Seeing the tattoo, I’m now sure it’s the same one that had killed my older brother. The memory isn’t too sharp as it sears through the fog of that night one year ago. Someone had sprayed me with something as my brother and I walked out of Belov Towers.
My body had felt much the same as it had after drinking whatever shit we were drugged with earlier today. I dropped like a rock when my legs gave in, and I lost control of my limbs before the world faded into a blur and I passed out.
I was sure the man spoke Russian. My memory of what he said was fuzzy. My brow creases, taking a closer look at the symbol on the dragon’s chest—?. It’s not back-to-back K’s. It’s a Russian character.
“That fucking bastard,” I mutter under my breath. “It was him. The green-eyed giant killed my brother. This is the dagger I saw in his hand that day. I remember the dragon with the Russian character on the top. I also remember his dagger tattoo on his wrist.” My throat is once again dry. “Now he has Isabella.”
A thought strikes. I turn back to the video feed. My eyes take in the man that I’m going to enjoy killing when I find him. What draws my attention is the red symbol on both men’s flat jackets. It’s the same symbol that is on the dagger, ?. The green-eyed giant has the number 1 next to the symbol on his flat jacket, and the man with him has the number 2.
Well, that explains the man’s arrogant confidence the first night I met him at the Velvet Lounge three nights ago. My eyes widened as two or three thoughts hit me. “Fuckkkk!” I hiss through my gritted teeth. “He was at the club the night I met Isabella. He wasn’t scouting out my club. He was after Isabella.”
No one answers me. They’re all standing, staring at the monitor. “This wasn’t just a warning or to torment you or my father.” I look accusingly at Marco. “This was an extraction. He was only here for Isabella and to make sure you knew it was him.”
Marco’s eyes are blank as he looks at me and nods. “Yes.”
“And I’ve just realized where I’ve seen this symbol before.” My fingers trace the dragon. “?—Zhe.” My father and Marco turn toward me. Now I know why they’re not just afraid but terrified, and so they should be. “What the fuck did you two do to piss off the Zhukov Special forces?” I hold up the dagger. “And by this symbol, I’m pretty sure it’s not just anyone you pissed off, but the head of the operation.”
“His name is Konstantin Zhukov,” Marco tells me. His eyes move back to the screen, and behind the fear, there is remorse in his eyes.
“What?” Anger burns through me. “He’s Roman Zhukov’s son?” My eyes widen, and ice seeps through my veins. “Please tell me Isabella isn’t what was stolen from him.” My voice is low and warning. “Because Isabella is likely carrying my child, and I’m sure that won’t sit well with the Prince of one of the oldest and most feared Bratva in Europe and possibly the world.”
“What?” Marco snaps out of his weird fear, remorse filled daze. “No, Konstantin would never harm Isabella, and the reason he extracted her is not the one you’re implying.”
Before I can advance on him and demand answers, I have the most intense need to take a piss. “I’ll be back.”
I rush out of the office and into the guest bathroom around the corner from Marco’s home office, making it to the toilet just in time, where I piss like I haven’t been able to in days. When I’m done washing my hands, I frown, remembering that the last time I was sprayed in the face with something similar, I had the same sensation.
Walking toward Marco’s office, I hear them talking. Stopping near the door and cocking my head to listen.
“Christ, all we needed were a few more months,” Marco says. “Then we could’ve fixed this once and for all.”
“We should’ve known he’d strike,” my father replies. “It’s a good thing that Isabella ran into Andrey when she did.”
“I have to agree with you,” Marco tells my father. “If she is pregnant, we may still be able to salvage the plan, especially if we can find the fucking missing documents.”
“We need to find her, or we’ll never get the other information,” my father says. “Is there still no luck finding out who the attorney or this messenger is?”
“No.” Marco blows out a breath. “We’ve been looking for fucking eighteen years. Let’s hope whoever it is, they’re not dead.”
“That would be a big problem for us!” my father warns. “Now that they have Isabella we don’t really have leverage.”
“They still need us for something or we’d be dead,” Marco points out.
“You okay?” James sneaks up on me.
Fuck, the man moves like a goddamn cat. “What are they talking about?”
