Submit (The Underground Book 4) (26 page)

“Lou Gehrig’s disease,” Anton added.

“Yeah. Even if Grigory had received this treatment years ago, I can’t predict with certainty it would have prevented this from happening any differently.”

But that risk was exactly what Anton Yenin was gambling his entire life on. Because though he hadn’t shared his medical records with a single soul, including Grigory or Jorge, he knew he too was a carrier of the gene that caused ALS. It was only a matter of time before he developed symptoms.

He needed the drug to work. His own life depended on it.

“Thanks, Jorge. I’ll be back in Chicago in a few days. I need to settle things here a bit first. Hoping to return Wednesday night.”

“Understood. What do you want me to do with Number Seventeen?”

“What are you doing with him now?”

“Keeping him sedated in a sort of twilight state. He has been given injections of every disease we could get our hands on. Nothing touches him. And I don’t need Haley Sullivan to confirm her body would react the same way. It’s a forgone conclusion.”

“Okay, I’ll call off the dogs on her for now, but only because there’s little I can do from out of town.” It still got in his craw that not only had she escaped but Mikhail Dudko had a hand in it. The ungrateful bastard needed to learn a lesson. All six of the guys did. Anton made them who they were today. They had some gall turning away from him to fight for that asshole Abram Gromov.

As soon as this was all over, he would teach them all a lesson—including Gromov. The fucker was Russian. He should know better than to go against a fellow Russian to steal his men or any other thing.

Maybe the man had turned a blind eye to Anton’s side operations for years, but that didn’t excuse his behavior.

No. The anger over the loss of Dmitry, Leo, Mikhail, Nikolav, Ivan, and Sergei didn’t lessen over time. Anton would exact revenge.

But first he needed to wrap things up in New York. And then he needed to check his own labs. If he hadn’t had Hepatitis A, he would make sure he got it and soon. Step two—injecting himself with the drug before it was too late. The clock was ticking.

The moment Anton ended the call with Jorge, his phone rang again.

Dayton
.

He glanced around to ensure no one was listening to him and took the call. “Give me an update.”

“That reporter is meddling. She knows too much.”

“Fuck.”

“Figured you’d say that.”

“I thought you told me she was gagged. The FBI doesn’t want her printing this story.”

“True.” Dayton chuckled as if this were a laughing matter. “But journalists aren’t known for being held down for long. It’s only a matter of time before more shit leaks out than you’d like. She’s gone to work every day at
Chicago Multimedia
since the gag order. I’ve managed to hack into her computer. She’s done her homework. She knows things about you even I didn’t know.

“When she isn’t at work, she’s with Andropov. She hasn’t left his side even to piss since hooking up with him. Which means she’s also tight with that doctor and the aid worker. I’m sure there’s little she doesn’t know about your business by now.”

“Need to put a stop to that.”

“Not sure what you want me to do. My hands are tied. I’m just giving you the info. How you want to handle it with your goons is up to you.”

“Shut up and listen to me.” Anton glanced both ways down the hallway and hissed into the phone, “I think that woman needs her chain jerked. Hard. I’ll figure something out.” Anton ended the call, stuffed the phone back in his pocket, straightened his tie, and turned to walk back into the visitation room.

Grigory Yenin had friends. Lots of them. Many of whom were probably worried about their futures and eager to make nice with Anton to ensure he intended to keep his father’s many legacies intact.

Anton hadn’t made any decisions about the future of his father’s various investments and affairs, but when he did, it wouldn’t hurt to have met some of his father’s business partners face to face. He needed his game face on for the next several hours. And he needed his mind sharp.

After the visitation, he would figure out what to do about Belinda Gallo. If the woman thought she could meddle in his business and get away with it, she was more insane than he suspected.

»»•««

By Tuesday afternoon, Anton was exhausted from making nice with far too many people. The funeral had been lengthy.

But at least he’d formulated a plan. All he needed to do was make a few calls and put it into action. By this time tomorrow, Anton would be back in Chicago and Belinda Gallo would be living with the fear of God.

He hated being so far away from Chicago while things were changing hourly, but it couldn’t be helped. He needed another day in New York, at least enough time to get the ball rolling on his father’s affairs. Viktor could handle most things without him present, but the man needed instructions.

He picked up the phone and dialed Dayton.

“Boss.”

“You still watching Belinda Gallo’s computer?”

“I am.”

“Bitch better be working on a piece about the state of the economy in Eastern Croatia, or she’s going to find herself picking out caskets.”

“If your involvement with the KGB and subsequent move to the US is related to the economy in Croatia, then sure.”

“Fuck. I’m working on a way to put an end to this. Her time is up. You have the ability to wipe her computer after I get her out of there?”

“I can arrange for that to happen, though I’m not sure how much good it will do. She surely has her computer backed up to a cloud.”

“Every little bit helps. Maybe her boss doesn’t happen to have the password to her cloud. Who knows? This goes down tomorrow. I’ll be back tonight.” He ended the call and sat back. That crazy cunt was insane. The further she dug, the more she should have realized how bad her decision was. But journalists weren’t known for backing away from a story.

Belinda’s hand shook violently as she dropped the message she’d been reading on her desk and lifted her gaze to glance around the room.

Fuck.

She stared at the paper as if it were contaminated with anthrax. And hell, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

It was Thursday. She’d been in the office every day that week for at least ten hours. Digging. Learning everything she could about Anton Yenin and his father, Grigory Yenin.

In the last few days she had opened every single article that mentioned Grigory or Anton Yenin, systematically working through the search engine.

She read through every source she could find about their lives until her eyes burned from concentrating so hard.

Grigory had been a member of the KGB. He’d worked for them for twenty years before the fall of the USSR.

When she dug deeper, she found another interesting piece of information. His son, Anton Yenin, had also worked for the KGB. He’d only been with the organization for a few months when the entire government fell, but he’d been there.

Both men had come to the US days after the fall of the USSR, assumed new names, sought diplomatic asylum. It wasn’t uncommon at the time. Hundreds of people slid into the US that month.

These two men weren’t simply Russian Mafia. They were much more. Russian spies? Informants? Something even more sinister?

Belinda had considered sharing her findings with someone. Didn’t the FBI know this about the men they were investigating? Of course the FBI knew all that. Of course they did…

Chewing on her bottom lip, she inhaled slowly and reread the message in front of her without touching it. Convenient that the perfectly normal piece of trifold paper had landed open and facing her, making it possible for her to stare indefinitely at the page without moving a muscle. But surely she was imagining things. This could not be happening.

Ms. Belinda Gallo,

How nice of you to lead us to your father’s restaurant Friday night. My men have dined there twice. He makes a mean lasagna. And your cousin Rena is a true beauty. Just my type. Her ample tits are amazing, the kind a man can bury his face in.

It would appear you aren’t capable of taking directions from anyone. I’m sure the FBI has warned you off my back several times. And my boy Nikolav. I’m disappointed in him. I practically raised him. I also know he’s dominant, which makes me wonder how feisty you are since you continue to enter
Chicago Multimedia
every day of the week even though it’s not in your best interest.

It’s not in Rena’s best interest, either. And since you can’t seem to lay off this incessant need to dig into my affairs, I’ve taken matters into my own hands.

Rena is with me. Don’t worry, she came on her own volition. It was easy to wine and dine her into submission. She’d probably put out for anyone with two legs and a dick. But she’s not too happy now. She’d like me to leave.

Perhaps you’d be willing to make a trade?

I thought so.

This is what you’re going to do. Find a way to get out of that building without detection and meet me at five o’clock this evening at Rena’s townhouse.

That’s right. Your dumb cousin even invited me into her home.

If you call anyone, she’s dead.

If you tell anyone, she’s dead.

If you so much as breathe wrong, Rena is dead.

Are we clear?

See you at five.

She lifted her gaze again, leaned back in her cubicle, and scanned the room. No one was paying any attention to her. She had no idea who had set the sealed, plain, white envelope on her desk in the first place. Could have been any number of people.

And it wasn’t as if she could start questioning folks.

Because the last thing she wanted was for anyone to know about the message.

Whoever sent it couldn’t possibly realize she was digging deeper into the affairs of the Russian Mafia every day, learning more, getting closer. Could they?

Surely Anton Yenin was speculating. Her research was private. She hadn’t shared her findings with a single soul. Not even her boss. Which meant either Yenin had managed to hack into her computer, or he was hedging.

Either way, he had Rena. And although her cousin was annoying as all hell, Belinda did not wish her dead.

If Nikolav found out someone was threatening her… Hell, if her boss or the FBI or any number of other people knew about the threat…

Fuck
.

She knew the danger was real. Nothing idle about it. But that didn’t mean anyone else needed to find out about the letter. She carefully put the trifold page back in the envelope and slid it into her desk.

With trembling hands, she grabbed her phone off the desk and touched the screen in a few places to dial her cousin.

She would answer. She had to. This couldn’t be happening. Her sing-songy voice would pick up and ooze sugar while she asked ten thousand questions about Nikolav. And Belinda would gladly answer them in exchange for peace of mind knowing Rena was perfectly fine and safe.

Instead, the male voice that startled her back to the real world made her stop breathing. “You fucking doubted me, bitch? This better be the only number you dial today.” The line went dead.

Attempting to control her racing heart, she dropped the phone in her top desk drawer and reached under the desk to grab the bag she always kept there filled with street clothes. No one would think anything of her changing and leaving the office. It happened all the time to all of them.

No way was she going to walk out the front door for everyone in the world to witness.

With determination, she headed for the bathroom where she changed out of her skirt and blouse and into her jeans and T-shirt. Thank God she’d included a pair of tennis shoes. It was chilly out, though. She needed a jacket—and definitely not the one that matched her skirt from this morning.

After depositing her bag of dress clothes back under her desk, she reached into the drawer, grabbed the note, and stuffed it in her back pocket. She wasn’t even going to take her purse or her computer bag with her.

Her hands shook as she removed her ID, credit card, and several twenties from her wallet to tuck them into her back pocket also.

With a deep breath, she stood tall and glanced around again over the tops of the cubicles. Everyone was busy. Her boss wasn’t in his office. Good. Hopefully that meant he wasn’t even in the building to question her. She didn’t want him to know what she had in mind, nor did she want to lie about it.

She stood, stepped away from her desk, and then returned to grab a ponytail holder out of the middle drawer. It would surely come in handy. On her way through the rows of cubicles, she spotted one of her co-workers leaning over her computer, an intent look on her face. That wasn’t what Belinda cared about, however. It was what hung on the back of Heidi’s chair that caught her eye.

“Hey,” Belinda said as she reached the woman’s desk. “I need to run out. You mind if I borrow your jacket? I only have my suit coat with me.”

Heidi lifted her gaze and smiled and then frowned as she tugged the jacket from the back of her chair. “Knock yourself out. It’s about fifteen years old, though.” She giggled. “And I have no idea when I threw it in the washer last.” She held it up by two fingers as if she herself couldn’t stomach the idea of touching it.

Belinda smiled as she took it from her. “No worries. Just trying to stay warm. Not trying to make a fashion statement.”

Heidi laughed. “The only way you’re going to make a fashion statement in that is if you intend to head down to one of the tent villages.”

Belinda chuckled and rolled her eyes, as if that were not exactly what she intended to do. “See you later.” She felt bad about the fact she undoubtedly wouldn’t return to the office any time soon, which left Heidi with no jacket. But it couldn’t be helped.

Neither of them was going to freeze outside. That wasn’t her intent. But the dingy-gray, zipped, hooded sweatshirt would go a long way toward hiding Belinda’s identity.