But from who?
Questions are ruminating in my head, making me toss and turn at night. If it’s not my thoughts on Sadie keeping me awake, it’s the fact that I was left for dead, and Luka was driven to the hospital.
Something is off.
I can’t use the bratva’s resources without Mikhail being notified. During the afternoon, I head to a local internet café and use their resources to hire a private investigator. I give him as much information on Anton and Savannah as I can, using a burner cell phone to communicate with him.
I don’t want anything traceable or tracked back to me.
I’m unsure what to do when we find Anton, but I need answers.
Exhausted, I rub the sleep from my eyes and force myself awake with a double espresso. I sip the scalding coffee and head out of the café. Rounding the corner, I nearly knock Sadie over.
“Are you following me?”
“No, I was working,” I say.
She glances around. “Your club isn’t around here.”
I stare into her piercing gaze, sipping my espresso. “How would you know that?” I’m sure I’ve told her that I work at Club Sage, but I never divulged the location. It’s doubtful she knew it without looking it up.
She doesn’t answer my question. “It’s two in the afternoon. What are you really up to?” She glances me over from head to toe and notices my coffee container. “An internet café?” Her brow is pinched.
“I’m just doing a little research.”
“And you don’t have a computer at home? I thought you were Bearded Bad Boy,” she says, and I inhale a sharp breath.
“I am,” I say, confirming her suspicions. Not that she has any idea I use the game console to help traffic guns, drugs, weapons—whatever Mikhail needs me to do. Conversations are untraceable. It’s the perfect platform without rousing suspicion. “My laptop is getting fixed at the shop, so I’m stuck using this place until the repair is complete.”
She nods, seemingly satisfied with my explanation.
While it’s the afternoon, the streets are relatively crowded, and people are bustling through the city. I catch sight of Ivan watching from across the street. Sadie hasn’t noticed him, and I shift slightly so that her back is to him, and she won’t catch sight of him watching us.
“How is Allie?” I ask, changing the conversation.
“She likes you. Thinks you’re a dick for not apologizing and sending me dozens of bouquets, chocolates, the works.”
I can’t tell if she’s teasing. “I’ll make a mental note.”
“Are you… okay?” she asks before rolling her lips together. Does she want to ask me something else?
“Why wouldn’t I be? It was just a fake relationship.” I force a laugh.
“Not that,” she says, and steps closer. She takes my hand, the one not holding my coffee, and squeezes it. “You were shot, Dmitri. I can’t help but worry who did that to you and if they’re coming back to finish the job.” Her brow is knitted, and she’s biting her bottom lip.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Can you? Because I found you in the forest, shot, and you would have bled to death if I didn’t call for help.” There’s concern laced in her tone. She squeezes my hand. She’s worried about me. I don’t know why she cares.
“You don’t know that,” I say. “I could have crawled to the nearest path and gotten someone’s attention.”
“You weren’t budging when I ran over to you.”
I’ll have to take her word for it because I don’t remember anything after we drove into the forest. The rest is a blur—a mental block.
“I don’t remember,” I say, staring into her concerned gaze. “But I’m fine. It was all a misunderstanding.”
“Was it?” Sadie asks. “Because you know a lot about the Italians.” She keeps her voice low, leaning into me to ensure no one can overhear us. But it’s loud outside, and with traffic and dozens of pedestrians breezing by, I can barely hear her, and I’m right next to her.