She couldn’t allow herself to be in love with Vlad Karev.
Madison gazed at her rumpled reflection in the mirror. She wetted her hands in the tap and attempted to smooth her curls down. When she dropped her eyes, she noticed the purchase from the store she had unpacked earlier the day before. With all the excitement of the past twenty-four hours, she had nearly forgotten the problem already on her doorstep.
She couldn’t bring herself to wake Vlad. She still had one last mission to complete on her own, to confront the man who wanted Vlad as dead as his father; and then…
Madison reordered the contents of the box, leaving them out on the bathroom counter. Hoping, and then pushing that hope aside. Then she quietly slipped from the room and out of the apartment.
8
Vlad woke to his cell phone buzzing. He cursed in frustration and rolled over to answer it; he normally left it on silent, but he had evidently forgotten to last night. He raised the phone to his ear.
“Vlad,” he stated flatly. “Someone better be dead.”
“Really?” an acerbic female voice demanded. “You’re answering her phone for her now?”
Vlad blinked. He pulled the phone away from his ear and read the contact name: Savannah. He didn’t have anyone in his address book by that name. What the hell was going on?
“Are you… Madison’s Savannah?” he guessed after a long moment.
“She didn’t mention you were smart,” the voice sassed back to him.
“Shit.” Vlad drew a hand down his face as his brother’s obnoxious observation replayed in his mind. You guys even have the same phone. He turned to find the bed empty beside him. “I’m sorry… Savannah. I think Madison took off with my phone.”
“Took off?” The voice sounded perplexed now, maybe even a little worried. “She doesn’t work until later today. Did she say where she was going?”
“No.” Vlad’s eyes cut across the room to the briefcase on the floor, and the crumpled note left on the counter.
It hit him all at once: Madison still wanted out. She had said it herself the night before. Even if they had allowed themselves to get carried away by their feelings, that still didn’t change the fact that she had a mission outside of her relationship with him, and that was protecting the interests of her family at all costs. And if that involved confronting the man she thought was the killer and gaining collateral with the Bratva…
“She’s gone to the gallery,” Vlad stated as he yanked on his jeans.
“How do you know that?” Savannah demanded. “What’s going on?”
“She’s going to confront Peter. Peter Franklin.” He paused. “I don’t know how much she’s told you…”
“Shit,” Savannah swore, seemingly to herself. “I know enough. Don’t worry,” she continued. “I’ve got eyes on her down there. If there’s trouble, we’ll know about it.”
The line went dead. Vlad stared at the screen of Madison’s cell for a long moment. Savannah had eyes on Madison? Just what the hell was going on?
Vlad entered the bathroom, hunting for a clean shirt, when his eyes fell to an open box on the counter. He was in a hurry, but even then he couldn’t fail to recognize the scattered contents in his haste.
He had never seen a pregnancy test before in his life, but he didn’t need to; once was enough.
“Shit.”
“I knew it!” Madison whispered heatedly as she paced the floor of the west wing, glaring at the phone in her hand. “I knew you were spying on me, you son of a bitch!”
It was all too apparent now whose phone it was she had taken with her that morning, but it was too late to correct her error. She didn’t know Vlad’s password to unlock his cell phone, but she could still see the banner notification pop up every time he got a text from Lukas.
She couldn’t leave now, so she settled for glaring up at the camera mounted on the ceiling, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. With any luck, Lukas Safin would be able to read her body language and understand her complete disapproval of the little operation he and Vlad had set up behind her back. She considered flipping him the bird, just in case he missed a signal, but another set of footsteps alerted her to Peter’s entry into the gallery. She turned away from the camera, ever conscious of her placement in front of it. She was going to use Vlad’s paranoia to her advantage.
On Vlad’s camera, she would get Peter Franklin to confess to Sergey’s murder.
The rose bouquet was still littered at her feet, discarded and forgotten. Madison studied it, trying to calm the nervous beating of her heart, as Peter’s shadow detached from the gloom of the main room and approached her. She had to be strong, for everyone she loved. She would protect Vlad, solve a murder, and earn herself the leverage she needed with the mafia to get her family out of the criminal underworld… all in one fell swoop.
“I found your note after you left yesterday,” she stated without glancing up. “I know what it means.”
Peter stopped abruptly, still several feet from her. “You don’t know anything,” he stated finally. “And whatever you think you know, it’s better if you keep quiet about it.”
“I also know you’ve been in contact with my father more than usual this past month,” Madison pressed on, undeterred by the man’s veiled warning. “Since Sergey’s death. The timing can’t be coincidental. So tell me honestly, Peter, did you murder him?”
Did my father? a traitorous voice asked in the back of her mind. Madison suppressed it quickly. Maybe her father had met with Sergey before his death, but there’s no way the man who raised her—a man who locked his desktop computer with a pun —was capable of brutally ending another man’s life with an ice pick.
“You don’t know anything,” Peter repeated in a desperate whisper, although he sounded less certain this time. “You only suspect me because you… because I lied to your family about my involvement with the Bratva. But there’s more to it than that, Maddie, believe me. I’m not just some double agent padding my pockets on both sides of the playing field. I answer to someone else.”
“Someone who wants Vlad killed? Someone who murdered Sergey?” Madison demanded. “Who, Peter? Who?”
“The FBI,” Peter stated. Madison stepped back, stunned, and it was only after the admission left his lips that Peter came forward into the light. His eyes flashed so brightly he might as well have presented her with a badge. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came to her. No protest, nothing. She couldn’t account for Peter’s sudden assertiveness, like he had just dropped every mask he was juggling to finally reveal the face he had hidden from her for so long.
“If what you say was true, then your e-mails to my father…” She turned it over in her mind, trying not to reel with the revelation. “Did he know who you were? Were you advising him all along on how to get out?”
Peter inclined his head in a slow, noncommittal nod. “The FBI is who I answer to, Maddie,” he said instead. “But they didn’t kill Sergey, and neither did your father. I know who did.”
Madison closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead, summoning the strength to endure what she was about to hear.