Page 30 of Where the Wind Whispers

Sucking in a ragged breath, one ripe with the agony he must be feeling at the hands of Alfie and his associate, Denis muttered out, “I wouldn’t. I never—”

“But is it the brotherhood, or my father, you mean?” Kaz asked cutting him off.

Denis hesitated, though only briefly, but in that short span of time, Kaz could see the way he had caught himself before he told his truth—one that he knew would end with his death.

Already knowing his answer, Kaz said, “Tell me where he is and this ends quickly. Don’t, and I’ll test how long the human body can suffer before it finally dies.”

“There are others,” Denis said on a rush of air. “He would know you were coming before you ever got close.”

That didn’t surprise him, not even a little. “Where is he?” he asked once more.

The stoic man at his back pressed two cables together, the sharp sound of electricity charging the air echoing. Denis rushed to answer. “The only place he could go where you would never look.”

“Russia,” Kaz said.

“No, Chicago.”

“Not possible,” Kaz denied with a shake of his head. “If he would have gotten within twenty miles of the state line, I would have heard about it.”

“Reginald Collins,” Rus said speaking up, like the answer had just dawned on him.

“The mayor?” Alfie asked, sounding impressed.

“He wasn’t a mayor when he needed a favor,” Kaz explained. “Just a young politician. He’s been in my father’s debt for years—seems Vasily finally called it in.”

“Looks like we’re going back to Chicago,” Rus said as reached for his phone. “I’ll give the Boykovs a call.”

“What do you want to do about this one?” Alfie asked once Rus was out of the room. “You can’t just let him go, can you?”

He waved for his man to come forward. Undoubtedly, he’d have the man toss the cables into the water until Denis burned to a crisp, but before he could, Kaz pulled his gun free, aiming it at the man’s forehead, and squeezed the trigger. His head drooped on his shoulders, and his body went slack—Denis was dead.

“Well, you’re no fun. Where’s the creativity?” Alfie asked, looking disgusted at the idea that all the killings for the day were over.

“You’re not running this show, Alfie,” Kaz said as he re-holstered his weapon and smoothed out his jacket. “Understand that.”

Silently counting backward from ten to keep the rising nausea at bay distracted Violet so much that she didn’t notice the town car slowing down before it pulled off to the side of the road. It would be just her luck that the only time her morning sickness seemed to make an appearance was when she was in the backseat of a car.

Also, morning sickness was a myth.

It was more like whenever-the-fuck-it-felt-like-it sickness.

Apparently, hers felt like it was appropriate to make itself known inside moving vehicles.

Violet was lucky today—no one but the driver delivering her to yet another thing her father demanded her presence for was there to notice she wasn’t up to par. And the driver had only raised an eyebrow at her when she fumbled for the power window latch, only to find it was locked.

Thankfully, he’d figured out her request and unlocked the windows in time.

The day was saved.

She didn’t woof her cookies all over the leather interior.

This time, her mind taunted.

Violet took a deep breath, counting back from ten once more as a shadowy figure moved closer to the vehicle and her door. She wasn’t sure how much longer she was supposed to keep this fucking charade up, but it wasn’t looking good on her end.

Hiding the pregnancy was one thing.

She could handle that.