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“On that, we agree, vozlyublennaya,” I drawled out before getting to my feet, so that she could rest some more.
“I’m serious, Avgust,” she warned.
“As am I, Samara,” I shot back as I grabbed the tray, pleased that she’d eaten everything.
When I neared the door, she called out to me, surprising me. “Avgust?”
I turned to look at her, and whether she realized it or not, she belonged in my bed. “Yes, baby?”
“What am I supposed to do with the N that’s carved into my leg?”
Rage warred with heartbreak inside my chest at her question, and Louie Manziel was lucky that he was already dead. Had Samara not been able to save herself by killing him, I’d hold him in a basement to endure years of torture and crimes against nature.
“Once the stitches come out, we’ll give it a few weeks to really heal, and then I’ll begin contacting plastic surgeons that specialize in such procedures,” I answered. “If they cannot give you perfection, then we will take what we can get, and then create the most magnificent tattoo that has ever been created to cover up what cannot be erased.”
Tears immediately sprung to her eyes, but I knew that if I went to her, she’d lose it. Though Samara was a fighter at heart, no one was that strong. Samara had endured a lot these past few days, both physically and emotionally, and now her mind was beginning to join the chaos.
“It’ll be okay, Samara,” I promised her. “You’re finally safe, and I won’t ever let anything else happen to you.”
“Am I safe from you, too?”
Since I wasn’t in the habit of lying to her, I told her the truth. “No, baby. You’re not.”
She gave me a resigned nod before she pulled back the covers, then got comfortable in my bed. I waited until she was nestled underneath the blankets, then I turned off the lights and let her get back to sleep. It was only five in the afternoon, but if the pain pills did their job, then she’d probably sleep through morning, and I could only hope that was the case. If she was asleep, then I didn’t have to worry about her overly much, and I needed to call Sartori again to see what Morocco could tell me about the three numbers in Louie Manziel’s phone.
After delivering the tray back to the kitchen, I went to my office where I could speak with Sartori privately. It wasn’t good business to be beholden to the enemy, but I didn’t see where I had a choice. Morocco Carrisi was the best at obtaining information without getting caught, and he was priceless in a world like ours. I had no idea how he’d gone to work for Sartori, but there were times when I envied the talent that Nero Sartori had under him.
When Nero answered the phone, I could only roll my eyes. “Kotov,” he greeted. “What a pleasant surprise. It’s almost like we’re friends.”
“Samara killed Louie Manziel,” I informed him.
“Yes, I’m aware,” he replied smoothly. “The O’Brien filled me in.”
“Well, I found a burner cell on his body, and it had three numbers programmed into it,” I went on. “The first two went to voicemail, but someone answered on the third number.”
“Klive Simpson? Or whatever Nikel is going by?”
“I think so,” I answered. “Though no one spoke, so I cannot be too sure.”
“Did you speak?”
“Of course,” I scoffed. “I told him who I was and that I’d be seeing him soon.”
Nero chuckled. “You Russians do have the flair for the dramatic.”
“I need the numbers traced,” I stated, ignoring his flippancy.
“You know that they’ll probably lead to a dead end, right?’
“I’m aware,” I replied. “However, it’s a loose end that needs to be tied up.”
Nero was silent for a second before he said, “I heard about the carving.”
“Yeah, it is not pretty,” I admitted. “And Samara is…is troubled by it.”
“Which is why you’re getting another freebee, Kotov,” he said, making him the biggest asshole on the planet.
Chapter 38
