Page 104 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

“Yes,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “I noticed.”

For a moment, he waits. Waiting is worse when he does it like this, because then I have to be fair.

“You didn’t come in,” I say, dropping my hand.

Dmitri adjusts the tablet in his grip. “He didn’t ask for me.”

Something in my chest twists before I can stop it. Mikhail calls from the nursery sitting area, and I walk away because staying there would make me think about Dmitri doing the right thing.

The nursery sitting area has become Mikhail’s base camp.

Elena sits with him at the low table, her baby asleep in a basket beside her chair. She wears a soft gray sweater and no jewelry except her wedding ring.

Mikhail has turned the table into a repair shop with toy tools, cardboard boxes, tape, and a row of screws Mrs. Wentworth must have inspected twenty times before allowing them within reach. Two cars sit upside down in front of him, and one small chair has a strip of tape across the leg.

“No,” Mikhail says, picking up a toy wrench. “This chair is broken in the fast part.”

Elena leans closer. “Chairs have fast parts?”

“This one does,” Mikhail says, very serious. “It’s a race chair.”

Kathryn sits on the rug with a coffee cup in both hands. She hasn’t brushed her hair, and her eyes are red from too little sleep.

“Can I steal you for five minutes?” Kathryn asks, looking up at me.

Elena lifts the baby basket handle with one hand. “I can watch the repair shop,” she says, then looks at Mikhail. “If the boss allows it.”

Mikhail studies her with deep suspicion. “Don’t touch it.”

Elena places her palm over her heart. “I will never.”

I take Kathryn into the small library off the north-wing corridor. Warm green walls, two deep chairs, plants in the corners, and a rounded window facing the inner courtyard make the place feel almost gentle.

Kathryn shuts the door and covers her mouth.

When I reach for her, she grabs my wrist. “Tell me how much Evan knew.”

“Kath,” I say, guiding her into the settee. “You didn’t hand him anything.”

Tears fill her eyes. “He knew the clinic. The pickup schedule. The scraggy planter by the side gate because I made one stupid joke over takeout.”

“Small things,” I say, crouching in front of her. “That’s what Patrick uses. Gossip. Bar chat.”

Kathryn presses both hands to her face. “I thought I was just talking.”

“You were,” I say. “Evan heard normal things from someone he was dating, and Patrick pulled them out of him because that’s what Patrick does.”

Her face goes pale. “What is Patrick doing?”

I take her hands. “He put my name in the Blacklist. He used me to pay a debt, then ran. That’s why I’m here.”

Kathryn goes completely still. “What the hell is the Blacklist?”

“It’s how they collect debts,” I say. “Money, secrets, territory, people.”

Her face loses color. “And Patrick put you in it?”

“Yes.”