Ashes (Web of Desire #3) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,101
sister about the same age. She’s alive and resides in a nursing home in Downers Grove.”
“His sister?” I asked. “Do you think that could be Miss Warner?”
“I do. Mason made a few visits to people who have stepped away from the business.” He shook his head. “It’s a long story. Anyway, they helped us track down other people years ago. Mason followed up and was given the name Wilma Adkins, a reclusive spinster.”
“Miss Warner was always there—always. To the outside that may appear reclusive. And you say that she’s in a nursing home?”
He squeezed my hands. “She’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I accessed her medical records—”
“How did you do that? Aren’t they private?”
Patrick’s head tilted. “They are. Anyway, she was diagnosed and admitted before her brother died. The notations called it rapid onset. Maddie girl, if she’s your Miss Warner, you won’t find your answer.”
“Will you take me to her? Downers Grove isn’t far, is it?”
“I’d rather not take you out until Ivanov is dealt with.”
“Dealt with?” I stood. “No, Patrick. Kristine, Pastor Roberto, and the Millers weren’t dangerous. Andros is. Please don’t risk your life.”
“He declared war on the Sparrows. This is about you, but it’s also about the Sparrows. Could you tell me what you know about Sasha Bykov?”
I took a deep breath as years of memories flashed in my mind. “Sasha has been with Andros since I arrived.”
“Worked his way up the ranks?”
“No. He’s always been at the top.” My thoughts went to the night I was ambushed. Sasha had been the one to drag Adrik’s dead body from our bedroom.
“Satisfied in his position?” Patrick asked.
I shrugged. “Loyal, yes. I don’t know about satisfied,” I replied honestly. “I can’t imagine him turning on Andros if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Could Sasha imagine you turning on Andros or you telling bratva secrets?”
I gave that a bit of thought. “Probably not. I never showed any sign of discontent.”
“Even though you weren’t content?” Patrick prompted.
“Yes.”
“Why wouldn’t you show it?”
The answer was obvious. “Because Andros wouldn’t have allowed it.”
Patrick nodded.
“I don’t know. Maybe Sasha feels the same way,” I suggested. “I wish I could be more helpful. Andros’s other man at the top is Nikita Gorky.”
“He’s dead.”
“What? When? How?”
“Very recently. That was the news Reid learned this morning. Gorky was shot, execution-style, and left in an alley.”
My mind went back to Adrik. “Single shot in the forehead?”
“How did you know that?” Patrick asked.
“It’s Andros’s signature move.” My gaze met Patrick’s. “If you want to meet, I could translate.”
“They speak English?”
“Yes, but I’ve been present in discussions. The real information isn’t said in English. It’s kind of a power trip to be able to say incriminating things right in front of an opponent and not be understood.”
Patrick stood and walked to the dresser, returning with an iPad. “I have her picture.”
“Her? Ms. Adkins?” I asked.
“Yes, from her medical record.”
Would I recognize her seventeen years later?
This wouldn’t be like the men at Dr. Miller’s who I saw once. I saw Miss Warner multiple times a day. Her silhouette in the doorway came to mind. Patrick laid the pad on the table as her electronic chart appeared.
“Oh God,” I cried, bringing the tips of my fingers to my lips. “She’s older and thinner, but I think it’s her.” I then looked closer at the chart. “Patrick, did you see her middle name?”
He nodded. “I did, but I didn’t want to sway you before you saw her picture.”
Wilma Warner Adkins.
I looked up, my gaze meeting his. “Please, I need to talk to her.”
Patrick
“Bykov is willing to meet,” Mason said.
He and I were alone on 2, each nursing a cup of coffee. Unusually, Sparrow and Reid were absent. It wasn’t as if we’d received a call or text. This was simply what we did, taking slumber when we could and waking with a sense of duty.
Being very early Monday morning, there were hours before the rest of the household would be moving about, eating breakfast, and generally living behind our shield of safety. “It could be a setup.”
“He’s probably thinking the same thing,” Mason replied.
After a sip of hot brew, I sat the mug on the desktop. “Madeline said Sasha Bykov has been with Ivanov since she arrived to the bratva.”
Mason leaned back in the tall desk chair. Wearing blue jeans, he lifted his large cowboy boots, one and then the other, crossing his ankles with the boots upon the desktop. His colorful arms no longer caught my attention nor did his shoulder-length hair. Mason may