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“My friend, John. I’ll give you access to this evidence, and you’ll release him. I know you still have him in your custody.”
The smile fell off my face, and I narrowed my eyes at her. She cared. She cared for that asshole, the rescue leader. Irritation seeped into my veins, squeezing the walls of my chest, and I didn’t bother hiding it, even while I questioned myself for giving a fuck.
Grating my teeth, I pulled myself closer to the desk to match her glare.
“You’re not in the fucking position to make a bargain,wife. You forget that I can harm your family if you don’t release the evidence you have against that ginger-haired shitface.”
“Harm them, and I will harm yours.” She wrapped her hand over her belly, and I flinched, retracting.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Her lips curved to the tiniest smirk. “You underestimate me.”
And her eyes meant every word.
Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and called Nikolai, giving him the order in Russian to let the rescue leader go butensure he kept his mouth shut. Niko expressed his concerns at the sudden change of plan but agreed and ended the call.
“It’s done,” I said to her through clenched teeth and motioned to the laptop. “The evidence. Now.”
Quietly, she stood from her seat, clambered over to my side of the desk, and set to work.
Freya’s fingers flew across the keyboard, her hair brushing against my arm as she leaned in to sign into the cloud storage. The proximity sent a shiver down my spine, her sweet floral scent wafting up and mingling with the air of wood and books in the study. My body tingled, and my heart rate quickened as I struggled to maintain a neutral expression.
As the files loaded, her eyes met mine and fell to my lips for a brief moment. I knew she felt this, too, but neither of us was willing to set our pride aside.
A notification dragged our eyes back to the screen, and she clicked on a video clip.
The grainy footage indeed showed Ronan as he lifted a gun to a man’s head, with his lips twisted in an ugly blood-thirsty snarl, as he fired three rounds in succession.
I recognized that style. I’d used it.
Execution.
If the police laid their hands on this, that would be the end for him. Nothing he would say or do could vindicate him. If we played our cards right, I could return to LA, and Ronan would be out of my life for good. Plus, I could use this to bend him, make him do a thousand of my biddings. The bastard didn’t know what was coming to him.
As the video ended, Freya straightened, and her eyes met mine, the screen casting a pale glow on her profile. I could sense her waiting for my response, maybe a possible outpour of gratitude or my next plan of action. My fascination grew. I couldn’t help but think about how she’d managed to obtainthat incriminating video clip. Her skills as a detective were undeniable, and I found myself impressed by her tenacity. Someone with her abilities could be a valuable asset to the Bratva.
Still, I wouldn’t give her what she wanted.
I took a deep breath and pushed myself off the chair, side-stepping her.
“I’ll send this to Arlo. Goodnight.”
Without a word, I left her behind me, not bothering to glance back.
Chapter 22 – Freya
Eight Weeks Later
It was good to be back home.
However, there was a slight problem. A gnawing, nagging feeling inside that I wasn’thome.Nothing felt the same. Not even as I stood by the tall windows, gazing out at the LA skyline, the familiar city lights twinkling like diamonds against the dark canvas of the night.
To think that there was a time when I wanted nothing more than a more active life outside the walls of the cubicle back at the office, only to get stuck in the mansion of a lead mobster as his wife.
It had been a month since we’d returned from Moscow, moving into Egor’s giant mansion here in LA, and the world seemed to have settled back into its routine, except mine. Mine was forever changed.
I swept my hair behind my ears and crossed my arms over my chest, my thoughts drifting tomy husband. He’d been in and out of courtrooms, with Arlo working tirelessly to clear his name. And clear it they did—the charges against him had been dropped, and he was once again a free man. Thanks to the evidenceIprovided, even if he didn’t think it was consequential to show gratitude. A part of me felt unease knowing that justice hadn’t been served.
