“Blyat’!” I slam my fist on my desk, the sharp crack of wood bouncing off the glass walls. “These f*****g mudaki.”
“We’ll get them,” Maksim vows. “They’ve shown their cards now.”
I shake my head, because if I keep dwelling on the rage, it’ll consume me. I need to do what I’ve always done: focus. Plan.Prepare.
“Update me on Nikita,” I order.
“No news, I’m afraid,” Maks sighs. “But we found her getaway bag. Which means she didn’t take it.”
“Which means she didn’t run.”
Of course she f*****g didn’t, my instincts snap. Nikita wouldn’t run. Not when she’s got as much skin in the game as I do.
“Find her,” I growl. “I want men looking for her ‘round the clock. No one sleeps until she’s back.”
Maksim inclines his head. “Yes, boss.”
I make a mental tally of the past twenty-four hours.
Fuc
