Page 93 of The Wrong Monster

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Ariadna finally has a lead worth following. I need time to check it.”

She looks surprised by how easily I agree. And then her brows knit.

“You don’t know where he is?”

“Not a confirmed address.” I watch the shiver run down her spine at the flat, cold current in my voice. “When we have him, I want everyone who’s helping him too. This doesn’t end with one man.”

I should be thinking of Kevin, but the truth is, I’d destroy Semiyon for her if she wanted me to. If she’d walked in here and said, “I want you to bury my father,” I’d be picking out a shovel.

“Get some sleep, Zvezda.”

Matilda looks startled at the nickname, the one that is a clear thread back to her father now, but then she gives me a small nod and turns toward the door.

If the lead holds, tomorrow she gets to see the man who gave her half of her blood. And I get to see what happens when Matilda finally meets the past she’s spent her entire life running from.

* * *

By the time the clock creeps toward noon, I am running on coffee and spite. Six cups sit somewhere between me and good judgment.

My team has been awake all night following the payment Ariadna traced yesterday. Until it cleared, the alias attached to the condo was another dead end. Now the money connects it to one of Yuri’s companies, and the surveillance photographs finally put Semiyon at the address.

Matilda’s request came just as that door opened. Kevin has already paid for every day it stayed shut.

I can’t imagine abandoning that woman. And I want her to see, from my eyes, how absolutely despicable he is.

I want that badly enough to take her there myself.

I take another swallow of coffee and immediately regret it. It’s cold and bitter, but the coffee machine probably won’t survive another round of brewing.

Footsteps sound in the hallway. I look up. Matilda walks into the kitchen wearing a wrap dress. I haven’t seen her in something like that before. It hints at her slight curves and adds elegance to her neckline.

For a moment I’m so distracted by her beauty that I almost sip the coffee again.

No, this is a job. Nothing more.

I clench my teeth hard enough that my dentist will have something to say about it.

She’s nervous. I can see it in the way she holds herself too rigidly, like if she relaxes even slightly, everything she’s trying not to feel will spill out.

But she’s resolute. There’s no hesitation as she looks at me expectantly, and I put the mug down.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then I ask: “Ready?”

She nods, clearing her throat before answering, “Yes. Is it far?”

I study her face. Tomorrow, she may regret asking me to find him. Today, there is no turning back.

“No, it’s not far. He’s closer than we expected. The car is out front.”

Matilda half-turns, waiting for me, and the look she gives me over her shoulder fractures something in my chest. I have to brace myself against the countertop before moving toward and past her, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the curve of her hip.

* * *

The road stretches quietly beneath us as I drive. The Adirondacks pass in a blur of green beyond the windshield. It’s beautiful; the kind of scenery that attracts tourists year after year. But it’s hard to see through the reality of where we’re heading.

“How did you find him?” Matilda asks.