Kruger set the meeting up three blocks from the police station. I suppose there’s something to be said for hiding in plain sight—but as a man who’s spent my whole life operating on the dark side of the law, it’s unsettling to conduct business literally in the shadow of a building filled with men who enforce it.
Well, mostly enforce it. The one I’m here to meet with today might help me bend things enough to drag Polly back through the cracks in the system.
I park just in front of a police cruiser and step out of the car. It’s an empty lot, strewn with tumbleweeds and trash, infested by rats burrowing through piles of junk in the corners. A chain-link fence plastered with placards advertising some bullshit tech company rings the perimeter.
In the shadows along one wall, I see Kruger and the Gallagher cop. When the latter man sees me coming, he stiffens and glances accusingly at Kruger.
“You didn’t tell me anyone else was coming,” he hisses just before he turns around. His eyes go wide when he catches sight of me. “Fucking hell. Are you—”
“Uri Bugrov,” I say smoothly, offering him my hand. “And you’re Tony Gallagher.”
Tony is still glaring daggers at Kruger. “Yeah. That’s me.”
I nod solemnly. “I won’t waste your time, Officer. I just need some information and I’m told you are the man to see.”
Gallagher shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the lot like he’s worried we’re being watched. “Listen… I… I got a reputation to protect.”
“And it is safe with me—as long as you do what you can to give me the information I need. I hear you have connections to the rings.”
One eyelid starts twitching. It looks like the man is buffering with pure, uncut anxiety. He sighs and his chin droops to his chest. “You looking for something in particular?”
“Someone in particular.” I pull out the picture of Polly that I slipped into my jacket pocket earlier. A headshot from her school yearbook.
Gallagher stares at the picture for a long time before he drags his eyes back up to mine. “She a relation or something?” I narrow my stare and he balks. “Never mind. Don’t matter. Not my business. Let me make some calls.”
He pulls out his phone and walks away. “Blyat’,” I mutter under my breath. “He didn’t recognize her.”
Kruger stares off after Gallagher. “Is it possible that we need to expand our search? Gallagher’s got connections, but only to the local rings. What if this went bigger?”
I don’t respond because the cop’s already walking back to us. Judging from the pinch of his eyebrows, I’m not going to like what he has to say.
“No one’s seen a girl like that,” he says, confirming my worst suspicions. “But listen, it’s not so easy to locate a girl once she gets dropped into the marketplace. Oftentimes, sellers will change up their appearance to help avoid detection. Color her hair, change up her look, pierce a nose or some shit… Your girl could look completely different by now.”
Fuck. I know he’s right. I just wish like hell he wasn’t.
“Will you keep a lookout?” I ask. “There’s a payout in it for you.”
Gallagher swallows. “Then I’ll definitely keep an eye out.”
I dismiss him with a nod and he ambles off towards his cruiser. Kruger turns to me looking grim. “What’s the next plan of action, sir?”
“I need you to look into any international ring with a footprint in Los Angeles. It’s possible that Sobakin sold her to some foreign fuck just out of spite.”
“I’m on it, boss.”
“However fast you’re going, speed it up by ten,” I growl. “We don’t have time to waste.”
Correction: Polly doesn’t have time to waste.
15
ALYSSA
Halle-freaking-lujah!
I’m out of the basement at last and freedom tastes so sweet. I wander around the house looking for Nikolai so I can thank him, but he’s nowhere in sight. When I ask Svetlana where he is, she says only that he’s working and he’s going to be away from the house most of the day. I figure the same is true for Uri, because he’s nowhere to be seen, either.
I’m not sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, avoiding him seems crucial for my mental sanity. On the other hand, there’s an ache for him that I can’t seem to kill.
I roam the gardens until my legs get tired. But even when I sit down underneath my favorite oak in the center of the lawn, I can’t stop thinking about Lev. He used to keep me company when I was out here, but like his brothers, he’s a ghost.
Which is how I end up back in the house, tiptoeing through the hallways, searching for clues that he’s okay.
I run into George on the third floor when he steps out of a room with a brass door handle. “Alyssa!” the physical therapist says, his eyes going wide with surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I glance towards the door. “Is Lev in there?”
“He—er—well, yes.”
“How’s he doing?”
George sighs and crumbles forward. “Good days and bad, I suppose. H-he… asks for you a lot.”
My chest tightens. “Has he been cooped up in his room all day?”
“Try ‘all week.’” George snorts. “He hasn’t stepped foot out of that room since he was brought back to the estate.” He passes a hand over his face and I realize suddenly that he seems impossibly tired. Like he’s holding Lev together with his own bare hands. “The abduction really did a number on him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore. I think staying in there soothes him.”
Oh, the guilt. It’s like a jab to the stomach.
“Can I see him?”
I know I’m probably gonna be in a world of trouble with Uri for even asking, but I can’t just walk away knowing that Lev is hurting. If George turns me down, I’ll walk away and deal with it.
“Well… I probably should clear it with Nikolai or Uri first. But…” I hold my breath. “I’m worried about Lev. He hasn’t regressed this badly before. Maybe seeing you will help.”
“Y-you’re gonna let me in?”
“No.” My heart starts to fall before he adds, “I’m going to go to the kitchen to get some lunch and forget to lock the door behind me. And if someone just so happened to wander in while I was eating my sandwich—very, very slowly—well, then, I’d just have no way of knowing about that.”
Whistling happily, he saunters off down the hall, very determinedly not looking back for even a second. When he rounds the corner and his whistling starts to fade, I turn to the door with the brass handle.
Putting one palm on the cool wood, I push it inward just enough for me to slip through the crack.
The room I walk into is massive. Bigger than the basement, though with almost exactly the same amenities replicated in almost exactly the same spots. The most obvious difference is the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Or rather, that would be the most obvious difference, if each and every one of those windows didn’t have the blinds drawn tight so no sunlight can sneak through.
I spy a familiar shape on the bed. “Lev?”