“Your new security. The tech, the guards, the whole new system Zakrevsky Industries installed into this academy and your affiliate locations in order to improve the safety and well-being of your children. Have there been any problems I should know about?”
One of the administrators nervously clears his throat. The superintendent thinks on it for a moment, then shakes her head. “No. Why—”
“So when your guy saw my name on Willow’s contact list, you figured, what? That some other Demyen Zakrevsky must be driving the car?”
No one has anything to say. I’d be surprised if they could justify what had to be the most ludicrous acts of misjudgment I’ve seen in a long while.
I’m not a private person by any means—part of having a solid cover for the Bratva involves being one of Vegas’ most respect
