"We kicked him out, but I'm concerned he might wait around for her to leave," Madisyn says.
"Can you watch Bay? I need to get to the hospital," I say. Her shift isn't over for several more hours, but she shouldn't be alone. If Mark shows up, there should be someone watching her back.
"Of course," Madisyn says as she brushes past me.
Bay drops her glass of milk, the contents spill, and glass shatters on the floor. The little one's eyes water, and her bottom lip pout. "Sorry." She sniffles and her hands tremble.
"It's okay. I'll clean this up," Madisyn says. She lifts Bay from the ground and places her on the counter.
"Are you sure?" I'm torn between helping with Bay and looking after Hannah. I can't be in two places at once.
"Yes. Go! It'll be good practice," Madisyn says. She shoos us out of the kitchen while cleaning up the pieces of broken glass on the floor.
"I'm coming with you," Mikhail says, glancing at his phone.
"What is it?" We head to the garage, and I grab the keys to the SUV. We have a dozen vehicles that we use whenever the need arises—everything from pickup trucks and SUVs to sports cars and sedans.
The keys to the midnight black SUV hang on the wall. I hit the button to open the garage and snag the keys before heading for the driver's side door.
"I had Anton put surveillance on Hannah's place after the two of you left this afternoon. Mark is there right now. How about we pay him a visit?" Mikhail suggests.
"Hopefully, Mark is packing his shit and getting the hell out of town," I mutter. I yank open the front door and climb onto the seat before starting the engine.
Mikhail yanks his seatbelt across his lap and snaps it in place. "Only one way to find out."
I put the SUV in drive and clench the steering wheel as I pull out of the garage and down the driveway for the metal gates.
The guard on duty opens the gate as he sees us approach. Mikhail gives a brief nod at the gentleman working the front entrance.
"How are we doing this?" I ask.
The street in front of the compound is residential, the area not too congested, but as we head farther into the city and closer to the apartment complex, it's clear that it's rush hour.
Mikhail grabs his phone and opens the app to check on Mark. "He's still there." Mikhail huffs under his breath.
"What?"
"Bastard isn't even packing. He's in the living room watching television."
I glance at Mikhail. "And how do you know that?"
"Camera's installed in both the hallway and living areas," Mikhail says as he lifts his phone, showing me the screen. There are a half dozen views with different angles and camera surveillance monitoring her apartment.
"It's good Hannah's not living there anymore," I say. She'd be livid if she found out Mikhail had surveillance equipment installed inside her apartment.
She doesn't have to find out.
Besides, she's not moving back to her apartment. There's no reason for her to live there, and I don't want Mark showing up uninvited, letting himself in like he owns the place and they're still together.
Traffic is heavy and inches along. I cut off another vehicle to change lanes and make a sharp right at the next intersection. I can't stand sitting in traffic, especially when I'm driving.
"You're welcome, by the way, for letting Hannah and your daughter live under my roof."
Is Mikhail looking for a thank you card?
"It's appreciated," I say, my voice gruff. I'm concentrating on getting us to the apartment and how I will handle Mark. I took the SUV, so putting him in the trunk isn't the best option.
We could rough his ass up, but he'll recognize us, and he knows where we live. I wouldn't care, but he seems like the type of guy who would run to the cops, begging for protection. We've had enough trouble with the feds, and we don't need them knocking on our door.
Mikhail may have managed to win one of them over and turn her, but he isn't likely to do that to the entire department.
"You really didn't know you were a father until this weekend?" Mikhail asks. He shifts in his seat, getting comfortable as he glances at me.
I'm not the least bit relaxed, and we're having this conversation, now?
"She didn't know how to reach me," I say. I've already told him the story. Is he second-guessing what happened? My loyalty lies with him.
Mikhail strokes his jaw and chuckles under his breath. "Then, it's a good thing you never married my sister. Shit. Imagine if you had, what a fuck show that would have been. You in Russia and Hannah here."
"Are you trying to say you're happy that Aleksandra married an Italian?" I never thought I'd see the day when the Russian Bratva and the Italian Mafia would co-exist. We're not friends, but we do keep to ourselves. We have an understanding.
"I wouldn't go that far," Mikhail says. His gaze tightens as he glances out the window avoiding my stare.
Traffic inches forward, and I make a left this time, jogging through narrow alleyways to get to the apartment.
There's an empty parking space out front, and I squeeze the SUV into the narrow spot. The moment the engine is off, we climb out of the vehicle and slam the door shut in unison.
We head inside and up to her unit. I don't have a key. I knock on the front door, and Mikhail covers the peephole to keep Mark from seeing us on the other side of the door.
Heavy footfalls fumble over the floor, and then he unlocks the door without so much as asking who is on the opposite side.
"I thought we told you to leave?" I grab Mark by the lapels and shove him backward, dragging his ass to the living room, pinning him against the wall. I shove my forearm up into his throat.
Mikhail shuts the door behind us, making sure the neighbors don't get a show.
We're not exactly on friendly terms with the cops.
"Do you like harassing women?" I'm ready to tear him apart, limb by limb.
"What? Of course not." Mark is scrawny and pale. He's like a string bean against the wall. It wouldn't take much to snap him in half.
"Do you have a weapon?" Mikhail asks as I keep Mark flush against the wall.
He's in sweatpants and a white t-shirt. I doubt that he's carrying anything dangerous.
"I'm not answering that!" Mark's top lip snarls, but I can see the fear in his eyes. He's trying to be tough, and it doesn't matter to me whether it's because there are two of us or he's intimidated.
"Search him," I say, glancing at Mikhail.