Page 102 of Maksim
“No. Fuck no. But she loves you, so… Love will do shit to you, you know?”
I laugh dryly. “She doesn’t love me.”
“She said that she loved you.”
My eyes narrow as I turn to look at him.
He gives me a nervous, lopsided grin. “You’re about to be really pissed at me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He rubs the back of his neck and sucks in a breath through his teeth. “So, Bailey didn’t really go back outside. She and Anya heard you and Freaky-eye and went to spy on your conversation through the window. You know how Bailey is.”
I just stare at him.
“Anyway, after Elira knocked you over the head, I guess she, like, kissed you and told you she loved you. Either fucked-up or cute, I’m not sure which.”
My face doesn’t crinkle, doesn’t soften. As far as I’m aware, I show no signs of being affected by what he just said.
But inside…
This changes everything.
I clear my throat. “So Anya…”
He flinches. “Heard everything… Sorry.”
A sigh blows out my mouth while I close my eyes and lay my head back.
Well, that better explains why she’s hiding.
“Just wait for them to turn their phones back on. They will at some point.”
I huff and don’t open my eyes. They’re both clever enough to figure out that’s how I can track them. Phones are a convenient means of tracking someone but too obvious and have their limitations.
Alik standing in Hugh’s backyard comes into my mind.
My eyes shoot open.
He wasn’t tracking me by my phone.
He was tracking me by my car.
I hurry to put the car in drive then peel back onto the road.
“Woah.” Anthony grabs the center console. “Did you think of a place they might be?”
“No.” I step on it to get through a yellow light, Alik’s apartment my destination. “But I know how to find Elira.”
My fist pounds on the chipped door to Alik’s apartment, startling the woman across from him trying to get into her own. “Open the fucking door!”
The woman fumbles with her key in her lock while I ignore her gasp, and a few moments later, her door opens and shuts. I can feel her watching me through the peephole.
How does a Bratva enforcer manage to live in a shitty apartment building on the Westside? Does the kid need a fucking raise?
The door swings open, revealing an expressionless Alik, neither surprised nor bothered by my presence. “Hello.”
I shove past him into a living room with old, brown carpet that might’ve been white once and catch sight of the tiny, depressing kitchen table with one chair. There are three holes in the walls beside the front door that I linger on for a half second before snapping to him as he waves my way.