crew was still current. It makes no sense. Unless…
Phillipa’s eyes snap to mine when I garble out, “The Bobrov crew is reforming.” She watches me cross the room with her mouth hanging open. “Kirill Bobrov arrived stateside a few weeks ago. Grayson is undercover in his crew.” I show her the photo Grayson forwarded to my private email a few weeks ago. It shows Katie Bryne in the flesh standing directly in front of Grayson. She aged similarly to the composite sketch the Bureau funded years ago, but she doesn’t look malnourished and scared. She’s smiling in the picture, albeit apprehensively. “This could cause significant national security. Hence the CIA’s interest.”
“Alleged interest,” Phillipa corrects while removing Katie’s photograph from my grasp. “Does Grayson have direct conformation Kirill is stateside?”
I shake my head before arguing why that means nothing. “Kirill doesn’t go anywhere without Katie. You thought I was obsessed with Melody enough to kill for her. There’s no guessing with Kirill. He has killed for Katie. Many times.”
Phillipa gives off a range of emotions during my comment. She nodded when I said she believed I was obsessed enough to kill for Melody, screwed up her face when I admitted Kirill has killed for Katie, then looked on the verge of vomiting when I added an unnumbered amount to my confirmation.
“Unless we have credible evidence Kirill is stateside, I can’t take this to my father.” She wobbles Katie’s picture during the last half of her statement. “Get me proof, Brandon, and then I’ll push for the privileges we swear we don’t have.”
“I’ll get you proof, and I’ll get it through him.” When I nudge my head to my laptop to point out who I’m referencing, the peanut butter that raced up my food pipe when Melody’s fiancé asked her to come back to bed coats my tongue. I knew I’d seen Kwan before, but it took me a few seconds to put the pieces together since it occurred the day my life was upended. He’s as big and as thick as he was in Melody’s photo, but the ones from Phillipa’s secret files show how different someone can look with a head full of hair.
“He was on the scene of the Greggs’ accident.” Phillipa swallows as forcefully as me. “He broke protocol to tell me which hospital they went to.” The width of my eyes doubles when another notion crashes into me. “He was at Melody’s house looking for her when Dr. Giorgio disclosed she wasn’t at the hospital.”
As bile burns the back of my throat, I snatch my phone off the dining room table before scrolling through my recently called list. In my panic, it takes me a few seconds to recall why Melody’s number isn’t displayed. She had texted me before we FaceTimed.
Once I have the Messenger app open, I hit the number at the top of the screen before squashing my phone to my ear. Melody’s phone rings and rings and rings and rings, only connecting when I’ve hung up and redialed for the fourth time.
“Where did you take the photo you sent me?”
I take a step back when a gruff male voice asks, “Who is this?” My panic had me forgetting Melody can’t answer my call, so this must be Julian—her fiancé.
The idiocies keep coming when I reply, “It’s Brandon. Is Melody there? I need to speak to her.” Of course, she’s there. You were just talking to her, dipshit.
“She’s not available at the moment, Brandon.” I don’t miss the quickest hiss of disdain when Julian speaks my name. “Is it anything I can help you with?”
I’m about to demand him to put Melody on the phone, but the quickest flurry in the corner of my eye stops me. Phillipa is pushing across the four photos she took of Melody when scrutinizing her from afar. The ones with a man in the background that we’ve yet to identify.
I hear Julian gulp when I ask, “Do you have a security detail following Melody?”
“Melody’s security is of utmost importance to me—”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” His silence speaks volumes. “How many?”
Phillipa silently begs for me to play good cop when my snippy tone wakes her from the dead, however, Julian doesn’t seem to mind. What good, upstanding citizen would? I’m not attempting to mow his turf, I’m endeavoring to keep his fiancée safe. Only a narcissist would have an issue with that.
“At the moment, I have one man shadowing her, but her security detail consists of five men