in my head, one of them screams at me like a blaring siren.
Arman. I’ve heard that name before, and I remember exactly where.
“I’ve heard that language spoken before,” I say, my voice quavering from how shaken I am. “I wasn’t sure what it was then, but when you said that phrase I … I think you were set up. Someone fed the Armenians information about where you would be and when. I’ve heard that name, Arman, before. It’s not a common name is it? I’m not crazy, I know what I heard.”
Diego gets to his feet and reaches for me. He looks worried as he takes hold of my arms, rubbing them up and down. “No, baby, you’re not crazy. If you say you heard something, I believe it. Now, this is very important. I need you to tell me who you heard speaking Armenian.”
There’s anger in his voice as well as concern, because I know he’s having the same thought I am. He hasn’t taken me anywhere these several months where I might have heard that language spoken. He knows as well as I do that there’s a traitor in our midst.
“It was at our engagement party, when I went to the bathroom, and when I tried to … when I …”
Diego nods. “I remember. What did you hear?”
I shake my head. “I can’t remember actual words, I just know how the language sounded and the name Jovan just said. It was Viktor … he was hiding out in that back room during the party, and I heard him speaking Armenian to someone over the phone. He mentioned Arman by name.”
Letting go of me, Diego takes a few steps away and then drives his fist into a wall. The impact rattles framed paintings and makes me flinch. He releases a string of curses, gasping and grunting through the pain of exerting himself too much. I want to take care of him, but I know better than to make him look weak in front of his men—even people he’s as close to as Jovan and Jaime.
Diego’s face is a twisted mask of fury when he turns to face us, his chest heaving as his breaths come fast and panted like a bull’s. His lips curl up into a sneer as he locks eyes with Jovan.
“Gather the lieutenants, right-fucking-now,” he orders. “We’re going to take a little ride.”
Jovan leaves the room with a grim nod, and Jaime follows, saying something about setting up communication from upstairs.
Diego comes to me then, his hand surprisingly gentle as he cups my cheek. “I have to go, gatita.”
I grab his hand before he can pull away, fear sending adrenaline spiking through me. “You’re still healing, and I know you’re in pain.”
“I’m fine,” he snaps, yanking his hand from my hold. “Stay here, don’t even look out through the curtains. I’m increasing security until I get back. And I will come back. Do you understand?”
Words fail me, so I nod in response. He tears from the room without a look back, leaving me to sink onto the sofa, alone.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I close my eyes and pray he’ll fulfill his promise. I know he’s going after Oleg, but I can’t predict what will happen from there. Is this what life as a mafia boss’s wife is like? If so, I guess now is the true test of whether I can survive it.
28
Diego
I’m almost surprised to find Oleg in his penthouse. When the elevator doors slide open, my pistol is already drawn. The pain in my shoulder and my rage over his betrayal have shortened my fuse, making it a distinct possibility that anyone who gets in my way will eat a bullet for lunch. Jovan and a dozen other soldiers pour in behind me, their weapons raised as they clear the space in search of any pressing threats. We find none.
Most men would flee the city, if not the country, after trying to assassinate the boss of another cartel. But Oleg isn’t most men, and the security he feels in his own power is apparent when I realize he isn’t even prepared to fight off a counterattack. We find him in the glitzy sitting room where he entertained us during the dinner party—wearing a smoking jacket and enjoying a cigar, a glass of Yezhov Vodka resting on his knee.
At the sight of me, he comes to his feet and the glass slides to the floor with a ‘thunk,’ sending the stinging scent of Vodka