Chapter 85: Spy
Late that night, across the city, Arthur Pendleton sat in his dimly lit private study, a heavy glass of scotch sitting untouched on his desk.
He held a phone to his ear, listening to the calm, steady ring on the other end.
Arthur wasn’t a criminal. He was a corporate defense attorney with forty years of clean legal standing, and he had no intention of throwing his license away for Kian Carter’s desperation. But he also knew how to navigate the gray areas of the law without getting his hands dirty.
The call connected.
"Arthur," a smooth, middle-aged male voice spoke through the line. "It’s late."
"I know, Benji," Arthur said calmly, leaning back in his leather chair. "I need a small favor regarding a medical evidence log."
Benji was a senior director in medical compliance logistics, a contractor who oversaw the tracking and transfer systems for state-certified laboratories. He wasn’t a rogue agent or a thug; he was simply a man with high-level access to tracking data.
"What kind of evidence?" Benji asked cautious.
"A specific compound sample transferred from an international location," Arthur explained smoothly, keeping his tone entirely professional.
"I don’t need the contents altered or destroyed. I simply need to confirm the current processing facility, and I need to know if the release of the final report can be held for secondary verification."
There was a brief pause on the line, the sound of keys tapping lightly.
"Give me the file reference code," Benji said.
Arthur read off the numbers he had noted from the court clerk’s log earlier that day.
A moment later, Benji spoke again. "It’s already in the state. It was routed to the specialized toxicology facility in New Jersey eleven days ago. The initial chemical breakdown is complete."
Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly. "And the final signed report?"
"It’s scheduled for electronic filing in forty-eight hours," Benji replied. "I can’t delete a state-logged file, Arthur. You know that."
"I’m not asking you to delete it," Arthur said smoothly. "I am asking if there is a procedural basis to flag the filing for a routine forty-eight-hour chain-of-custody review. A simple administrative hold while we submit an independent audit motion."
"An administrative delay?" Benji pondered for a second. "That can be done. It will buy you two extra days before the document is officially delivered to the court clerk."
"That is all I need," Arthur said, his voice cold and satisfied. "Thank you, Benji."
He hung up the phone, taking a slow sip of his scotch. He hadn’t destroyed evidence. He hadn’t broken the law. He had simply bought his client time to find another way out.
...
Miles away, in a penthouse suite overlooking the glittering lights of the city skyline, a thick layer of smoke filled the living room.
A phone sat on the heavy glass coffee table, ringing loudly.
Kian Carter sat back on the plush leather sofa, his legs spread wide, his white dress shirt unbuttoned to his waist and his tie halfway loosened.
He was holding a glass of dark whiskey in one hand, his fingers dusted with sweat.
Between his knees, a woman was down on her knees, her dark hair falling over her shoulders as she took his hard cock deep into her mouth.
She was working him slowly, her lips tight and wet, her hand gripping the base of his shaft to guide him deep into her throat.
Kian didn’t look down at her. His eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded from the alcohol, staring blankly at the dark window reflecting the city lights and remembering how beautiful his wife was in the courtroom earlier.
To him Isabella had always been beautiful, too beautiful for her own good. Even when he thought he had hated her, he could admit she was a breathtaking woman.
But it seemed she had went away and became even more breathtaking by the time he saw her again but now her beauty had a stain to it, the stain of him. And he couldn’t wait to wipe it off.
The phone rang a third time.
Kian reached out with his free hand, grabbing the woman by her hair and pulling her head back with a rough, impatient jerk.
She choked slightly, her mouth slipping off his dick with a soft, wet sound. She looked up at him with wide, submissive brown eyes, her cheeks flushed bright red.
It was Lily... the young hotel worker he had taken in the service bathroom weeks ago. She was wearing a tight, short black dress, her lip gloss smeared around her mouth.
Kian reached down, jamming two thick fingers roughly into her mouth, catching her tongue. "Be quiet," he growled softly, his voice thick with liquor.
Lily bit down gently, giving him a quick, desperate, eager nod, her dark eyes filled with a terrifying mix of fear and pleasure as she sucked on his fingers.
Kian picked up the ringing phone and pressed it to his ear. "Speak."
"Mr. Carter?" a woman’s anxious, hushed voice came through the speaker. "It’s... it’s me, Clara."
...
Two weeks before the first hearing, while Aaron and Isabella were still in Russia, Kian sat alone in his dimly lit private study.
A thick manila folder rested on the mahogany desk in front of him. Inside were records of Aaron Kazarov’s assets across the country.
Aaron didn’t keep everything under his own name. Most of his holdings were buried under nameless shell companies, offshore trusts, and private real estate firms.
Kian’s investigator had managed to narrow down the list to ten potential locations where Aaron might go once he returned to the states.
Kian studied the paper, his dark eyes moving slowly down the list. He wasn’t guessing. He knew how Aaron thought.
Aaron wouldn’t take Isabella to his primary estate in the city; it was too open, too easy for reporters to track. He wouldn’t take her to a hotel or any property tied to his main corporate holdings.
His finger stopped near the bottom of the page. A quiet residence, set far back behind private gates, hidden away in a quiet neighborhood. Secure, comfortable, and close enough to major roads without attracting any attention.
"That’s where he’d take her," Kian murmured to the empty room.
Getting someone inside hadn’t required a break-in. It only required finding the people who worked there.
A few days later, Kian had arranged a quiet meeting with one of the secondary housemaids in a quiet diner on the edge of town.
He hadn’t started with threats. He sat across from the nervous woman with a look of quiet, exhausted worry on his face.
"I’m not trying to cause trouble," Kian had told her, his voice low and full of soft concern. "I’m her husband. I only want to know that she is safe and well taken care of."
He had slid a heavy white envelope across the booth table. "You don’t have to do anything complicated."
The maid hadn’t touched the money. She kept looking toward the door, her hands trembling in her lap. "I can’t... Mr. Kazarov... if he ever finds out, he’ll ruin me. He’s a dangerous man. And he hasn’t even mentioned to us that he would be arriving here—"
"He will take her there!" Kian cut her off. "I’m sure of it."
His warm expression had faded. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes turning cold and flat.
"I understand your fear, he’s a brutal man" Kian said, his voice dropping an octave. "But you need to understand that refusing me could become very difficult for you, too. I know where your sister works, Clara. I know the school your daughter attends."
It wasn’t a loud threat. It was spoken so smoothly, so casually, that the air in the diner booth seemed to freeze instantly.
The maid went completely still, her face draining of color. She looked at Kian, seeing the dark, unyielding look in his eyes, and realized exactly what kind of man she was dealing with. Her trembling hand reached out and took the envelope from the table.