Nik had several inquiries he was trying to get answers from, so we had to table some of the investigation until we had more information. Pavel Lenkov was even more sure that Kinsley was his former dance partner. Nikolai met with him to provide the documentation that we had gathered.
Nik didn’t share any information other than everything Kinsley had told Pavel checked out on her end. And that, to our knowledge, she wasn’t his old dance partner. A simple case of mistaken identity or having a doppelgänger.
It was easier to keep him in the dark than to potentially risk his life by involving him or encouraging him to dig deeper. Until we knew what that connection was, he was better off not knowing.
“If Pavel is right, someone went to great lengths to convince the world that Mischa Natalya Dmitrieva died,” Nik said.
He was talking about the car accident in which the little Dmitrieva girl died, along with her parents. Having family in Russia, we were able to get official reports of the accident and information about the family’s funerals.
It was confirmed that the family of three had an accident coming home from the little girl’s audition, and that alcohol was a contributing factor. The car lost control, went over a cliff, and burst into flames. The child was approximately eight years old.
Simple math showed that Kinsley was the same age as the Dmitrieva girl. But other than being Russian, neither parent had been involved with or related to any high-ranking Bratva person.
There was so much we didn’t know. We were completely stumped, but there was enough in Kinsley’s perfect life on paper that gave room for doubt to creep in.
One being that she’d never been enrolled in a traditional school. Records showed her with online transcripts from accredited schools, so she was educated. But with her not cooperating, it made finding the cracks damn near impossible. If she was Mischa, why was she hiding? The case was so frustrating.
“I still can’t believe she called Marcel,” I remarked, pulling up my phone and checking her location. She was at the café this morning.
“Man, you’re becoming obsessed. What the hell, Brother?” Ivan kicked my foot, getting my attention.
“Shut it. I don’t recall asking your opinion.” I glared at him as he smirked. He leaned back into the chair he was sitting in.
We had placed a tracker on her phone while she was in dance class to keep a closer eye on her. A full twenty-four-hour surveillance team was unwarranted at this juncture, so it was all Nik would agree to. Damn him for being the voice of reason. I could override him, but I didn’t want to give them more ammo to give me shit about.
“She still not giving you the time of day? Look, if you need some tips, I’d be more than happy to help you win her over,” Nikolai teased.Asshole.
“Seriously, ask her out already or move on, because you’re so damn distracted lately. Did you get the email I sent you on our newest target?” Ivan rubbed his eyes.
“Yes, Brother, I did, and I agree. I’m on board. Happy now?” I ignored both of their comments, tuning them out while they discussed our newest target.
I hated to admit they were right. She had me distracted. Getting her to go out with me seemed damn near impossible. She was quite challenging, but I was enjoying the chase. Was it slightly obsessive? Probably. But that made it all the sweeter.
I’d never been the chaser, so this was new for me. I chalked it up to that stupid existential crisis I was trying to ward off. Smiling, I thought to myself,time for another round of questions for Kinsley. I took out my phone.
“You guys got this? I need to make a call,” I lied, excusing myself.
“Girls like gifts. Flowers and shit,” Nikolai called over his shoulder, leaning back as I walked down the hall to find Marcus. Little did he know, I was two steps ahead of him.
“Marcus, I’m going to need you to do something for me today.” I decided to try a different approach with her. This playing hard to get was driving me mad.
“Absolutely, Boss. What do you need?”
“I ordered a dress for Kinsley. I’d like you to pick it up, as well as some accessories.”
“Accessories?” he repeated with a mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips curled up in amusement.
“Yes, a little something for underneath.” I imagined her tight body in black thigh highs and sexy lingerie with heels.
I grinned at Marcus as he shook his head. Just thinking about her in the lingerie set had me hard as fuck.
“I’d ask if you have her sizes, but something tells me you do.” He shook his head as he opened the car door while I smirked at him. Of course I had her sizes—the little shit was barely five feet tall.
I may have agreed not to wire her house, but that didn’t stop me from doing a quick walk-through while she was at work three days ago. The guys would kick my ass if they knew I had been in her house. Hell, I’d kick their asses if it were the other way around. Not that this was the first time any of us had broken into someone’s house.
Normally, it was to dig up dirt on assholes who’d end up on the other end of Ivan’s blade. I’d learned quite a bit, though, while going through her house—information I hadn’t shared with the guys.
Kinsley’s home was very modest. Again, another thing that stood out to me for someone with an estate the size of hers. Everything from the sheets on her bed to her panties was plain Jane, the absolute opposite of how I saw her.
