The Hollow: Preacher Brothers, 4

by Snow, Jenika

  I rested my head back on the seat and closed my eyes. They’d be out soon, less than a literal minute. In and out, get the drugs and money, and get the fuck out. The plan was simple, easy... without fault. No one was even there, the place empty. There’d be nothing and no one to hold anything up.

  I opened my eyes and looked at my watch, seeing the hand counting down the seconds, feeling my adrenaline rush. I had the car idling, ready to bolt as soon as they were in.

  I glanced over my shoulder at where I could see the storefront of Mackerel’s.

  Come on, assholes. Let’s get the fuck out of here.

  I faced forward again, and movement across the street up ahead caught my attention. I watched as a woman briskly walked down the sidewalk, a bag in her hands, her baseball cap pulled down low. She was walking fast—hauling ass. She had dark-blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, and I could assume she was another junkie, but she didn’t walk like one. Her gait was even, her steps never faltering. She also looked put together, appearing clean, with her clothes in place and decent.

  The only thing that was askew was her.

  She definitely seemed out of place on this side of town, and it piqued my interest as I watched her walk into the laundromat. She went over to the waist-high table and set her bag on it before pulling out her clothes. She was facing the street, but the brim of her hat made it impossible to see her face.

  I didn’t know why I was so curious. I really didn’t give a fuck who this woman was, but the fact that she stuck out like a sore thumb on this side of town made her an oddity. And if I noticed her, others would too.

  I was about to turn my focus to the road, when she looked up, and everything in me stilled. She was far enough away I couldn’t make out the little details that made her up, couldn’t even see the color of her eyes, but I was close enough that I’d be able to tell if it was someone I recognized.

  And I knew her. I felt her. She’d been a part of me for the last five years.

  I felt the world align, felt my center even out. And for the first time in my life, I felt... at peace.

  It was Nadja.

  I could try and rationalize that there was no way it was her, that she wouldn’t be in this shitty part of town. But I told myself that even though her hair color and length were different, that she wore a baseball cap, I wasn’t losing my mind. Right?

  Right?

  Maybe it was my eyes playing tricks. God, it looked just like her right down to the facial features, the bone structure, and her body shape.

  “Frankie.”

  I heard my name called distantly, but it was as if I were underwater. It was distorted, something far away and hard to focus on. I couldn’t stop focusing on her. She kept glancing up, looking around. I saw the fear, panic in her eyes. She was nervous, clearly scared, as if she were worried someone would see her.

  “Frankie.”

  My name was called harder, aggression laced in that one word.

  I blinked and had to force myself to look away from her. I looked at the passenger side and saw Wilder sitting in the seat, his face hard as he stared at me. A glance in the backseat showed Dom and Cullen.

  “Fucking go, bro,” Wilder roared, and I realized I’d been sitting there while they’d been in the van.

  I fucked up. We should have been gone by now.

  I cranked the car, put it into drive, and peeled out of there, the sound of the tires squealing on the pavement too loud, too noticeable. I looked out the driver side window and into the laundromat, looking at her again, watching as she lifted her head and stared at the van.

  I wasn’t going to let this go. I couldn’t, not if that was Nadja.

  12

  Nadja

  I’d been at this ratty apartment for the last week, living off the processed food and bottled water I’d been able to snag at the corner store, but I had no more clean clothes, and I had to make a trip to the laundromat right next to the apartment building.

  I had to venture out.

  My anxiety was high, having to leave the shelter of these four nasty, water-stained walls. But I couldn’t be trapped in this place any longer. I couldn’t let fear override me. Being smart, that’s what I had to focus on. Being careful, making sure I didn’t mess up and leave any information that could lead back to me was what I had to grasp, get control of. It helped me move forward. Fear had me making mistakes.

  So I grabbed all my dirty clothes, shoved them in my bag, and waited until it was late—really damn late—before heading toward the laundromat.

  The scents of the stale city life filled my nose. Car exhaust, cigarette smoke, booze, and the tangy scent of indiscretion surrounded me.

  I quickly made my way to the laundromat, keeping my head down, yet I was still very aware of my surroundings. Once inside, I noticed how many people were in here. Just one. A woman who didn’t seem like she was quite in touch with reality at the moment. She kept mumbling incoherent things, pacing back and forth, and swinging her arms as if pushing invisible things away.

  I started focusing on the clothes, taking them out of the bag and separating them. That kept me a little calmer.

  I’d only been here for about five minutes when the sound of tires squealing on pavement right outside the laundromat had me snapping my head up, panic taking hold. My heart instantly started racing, my nerves moving sky-high. I had a tight grip on a shirt, pulling at the cotton like it was a lifeline, something to keep me stable.

  I looked out the front window, the glare on the glass from the light above making it almost impossible to really see anything. But I did notice a dark van speeding away, swore I could feel the driver’s gaze trained right on me. Panic swelled inside me. Was it Maximillian? Was it someone he hired to try to find me?

  Common sense told me it wouldn’t actually be him, because he’d never do something as lowly as dirty work, or so I’d heard him call it. He was “too good” for that, too “high in rank” for the grunt work.

  More rationalization told me I’d been very careful, so careful about leaving a carbon footprint. There’s literally no paper trail of Nadja Romanoff. She didn’t exist anymore. I was now Rachel Clayton. A name that sounded common enough. A girl who had no face, no identity, no background.

  Maybe it would’ve been smart for me to leave, just wear these dirty clothes for the next couple days until I was sure things were okay. But I forced myself to stay there, to wash and dry them. And after a couple hours, I was shoving the clean clothes back in my bag and walking out the laundromat and to my shitty but semi-safe room.

  I kept my head low, the brim of my hat pulled down. I passed by men who would’ve seemed frightening to other people, drug dealers, criminals, men who did deplorable things to stay alive. But I lived my own nightmare, had been around demons and devils my whole life.

  These men who catcalled me, whispered, propositioned lewd things were nothing. They were no one.

  They weren’t the danger. They may’ve thought they were, but they’d never stared into the eyes of pure evil like I had.

  Once I was inside the building, I ran up the stairs, out of breath and sweating by the time I reached my floor. I unlocked the door and walked inside, slamming it shut behind me and leaning against it. I stood there for a moment, my hands behind me, my palms flat on the scarred, worn wood of the door, catching my breath, telling myself everything was fine.

  It was. It had to be.

  But in the back of my mind, there was a constant war waging.

  Should I leave, continue to run?

  Or should I find Frankie? Should I go to him, see if he was even still in town, if he could help me?

  I didn’t know the answer and was afraid of both sides of that war, but right now, the only thing I could do was hide. And I was good at it, damn good at it.

  Because being in my situation meant surviving.

  13

  Frankie

  I could hear my brothers bitching, felt their rage and annoyance directed at me, but my min
d wasn’t focused on anything but the woman at the laundromat.

  I stood by the sink, braced my hands on it, and stared out the kitchen window. I couldn’t see anything with the darkness covering everything like a cloak, but I didn’t mind, because my mind was so clouded with the possibilities of that woman being Nadja.

  “He’s not even fucking paying attention,” Dom muttered, but it went in one ear and out the other.

  “What the fuck is up with him?” Cullen was the one to speak now.

  “Frankie, look at us, man.”

  I turned when Wilder addressed me and stared at three very pissed-off faces. I had no excuse for fucking up like I did. Doing what I had could’ve meant us getting caught, or worse, getting killed in that part of town.

  I exhaled and ran a hand over the back of my head. “I thought I saw her,” I said in a low, deep voice. I wasn’t about to admit I thought it was her. They’d think I’d lost my damn mind.

  Maybe I had.

  Cullen and Dom looked at each other with confusion in their faces. “You thought you saw who?” Dom was the one to ask.

  I could see on Wilder’s face he knew who I was talking about.

  “Nadja.” The room grew tense and quiet after I said her name.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Cullen muttered and started pacing the kitchen. “You thought you saw a woman you had a fling with over five years ago, and that’s why you nearly fucked us over on this job tonight?” His voice was raised, his anger clear.

  I felt my own anger rise and pushed away from the counter to step up to him. Wilder inserted his body between us, a hand on my chest to stop me as I leveled a stare at my older brother.

  “It wasn’t a fucking fling.” The way I said those words would have had any other man cowering. Cullen just narrowed his eyes at me even more. “You fucking know it was more than that.” My voice was low, deadly. Cullen took a step toward me, but I held my ground, wanted to tell Wilder to move the fuck along and let us hash this out. “You tell me how you’d feel if I said that fucked-up bullshit about your woman.”

  Cullen curled his lip, and I thought he’d shove Wilder aside so we could go at it. But he finally exhaled and took a step back. I watched as he walked away, rubbing his hand over the back of his head and muttering under his breath.

  “Dude, you know logically it can’t be her.”

  I snapped my head in Dom’s direction.

  “I don’t know that.” I could hear the malice, the acidic denial in my voice. I didn’t know that. But I did. Chances that it was Nadja were so fucking slim I almost couldn’t even grasp it. But I had hope. That’s all I had at this point.

  “You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Cullen rumbled. “I’m going home to my woman. We’ll discuss the job details tomorrow. I can’t deal with this bizarre shit right now.”

  I growled, wanting to deck Cullen in the fucking jaw. Wilder’s hand on my shoulder had me realizing I’d been about to do just that, stalking toward him, about to get into it with him.

  “Let him go,” Wilder said deep and low, so low only I heard.

  I watched as Cullen left. Dom just shook his head and finally exhaled.

  “You can’t let anything get in the way of a job, brother.” He clapped me on the other shoulder and then left as well.

  You can’t let anything get in the way of a job, brother.

  I clenched my jaw. “Funny coming from you.” Dom’s nostrils flared as his anger rose because of my words. “Kind of like taking a woman hostage during a damn job and keeping her prisoner in your room?”

  I heard Dom’s teeth gnash together. I’d gotten under his skin. Good. None of my fucking brothers had any room to talk. Yeah, I’d nearly fucked up the job severely. But we were here and whole. Things had worked out. I didn’t want to hear one word from them regarding this.

  Dom had taken a female during a heist simply because he wanted her. Cullen had his black, cold heart brought to life while he was trapped with his woman. Hell, Wilder’s woman had been kidnapped by me, because she’d seen too much, and all that shit worked out.

  “Dom, just get the fuck out and let things cool,” Wilder said, and Dom exhaled once more before giving a nod and leaving.

  “Yeah, that’s probably best before we are at each other's throats.” Dom left without another word.

  “Christ,” I said once it was just Wilder and myself. I moved out of my twin’s hold and paced for a few seconds. My thoughts were right back on Nadja now that the aggression and testosterone faded.

  Wilder was smart. He kept his mouth shut about this. But I knew it wouldn’t last.

  I didn’t know how many minutes passed, but I knew Wilder was mulling over the shit he wanted to say. He wanted to make sure he didn’t fuck this up and say the wrong thing. I knew him better than he knew himself and vice versa. Maybe it was a twin thing. Maybe it was because we were one and the same.

  Either way, this needed to get out in the open or it would just fester between us.

  “Just say it, Wilder. Say what you want to say.”

  Wilder was silent for so long I didn’t think he’d say anything. He leaned against the kitchen island across from me, crossed his arms over his chest, and then just stared.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he finally asked, but there was no malice or judgment in his tone. He sounded genuinely confused and interested.

  I exhaled and lifted a hand to scrub it over my jaw. The several days’ worth of scruff moved along my palm, the sound loud in the kitchen as the silence descended on us.

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly.

  He gave me a slight nod as if he knew I really had no idea what the hell I was doing.

  “But you’re not gonna let this go?”

  I shook my head slowly. “I can’t.” And I honest to God couldn’t. I had to find out who that woman was. I had to figure out if I was losing my damn mind, or if the love of my life was finally back.

  And if it was the latter… I was going to make her mine again, even if it killed me.

  14

  Frankie

  Three days later

  I’d been sitting in this car, staring at that fucking rundown laundromat off and on for the last three days.

  For seventy-two hours, I’d been anxious, obsessed, chomping at the bit to see the mystery woman again.

  And I hadn’t. Not one shred of evidence that she even existed.

  Fuck, am I losing my damn mind?

  I took my baseball cap off and scrubbed a hand over my head. I was tired, so damn tired I felt it deep in my bones. But just thinking—hoping—that I wasn’t crazy and I’d actually seen Nadja gave me this renewed sense of energy.

  The sun was starting to rise, and I turned the car on, knowing my brothers would wonder how long I’d do this.

  However long it took. If it took an eternity with the possibility of seeing my girl again, I’d sit out here every fucking night and watch the sun rise.

  I was never considered a rational man. But no one had ever been as determined as me, and when it concerned the woman I loved... all bets were off.

  * * *

  Nadja

  I’d wanted to go to the laundromat again, but something felt off, felt different. But I’d pushed it off to paranoia, to the squealing tires of the van that had sped away just days prior.

  So I left to go to the corner store, and that’s when I’d first noticed the dark SUV. It was out of place for this side of the city, and as I stared out the cracked and foggy glass of the apartment building's front door, I noticed it sitting in the same spot across from the laundromat for three days.

  The windows were tinted so dark I couldn’t see who the driver was. Fear was strong in me, wondering if I’d been right and that van speeding away the other night had in fact been the bratva, or if not the Russian mob, then maybe Maximillian had found me.

  I didn’t know for sure, but what I knew with certainty was I had to find Frankie, to see if he was still at the same house... to see i
f he’d help me. And if he wasn’t there, if he had a family, a new life, and I was just a complication, then it was time for me to leave. It was time for me to run and hide, to get a new identity.

  And that’s what I was going to do now. I had my clothes, the few items of food, and the two bottles of water I had left shoved in my bag.

  My baseball cap was pulled low, and as I stood by the apartment building’s front door waiting for the cab to take me across town, I stared at the now empty spot where that SUV had been parked all night. I’d watched it leave just as the sun rose, and I knew that’s when I’d make my escape.

  I didn’t know if a replacement was coming, but I couldn’t take the chance or waste time waiting and seeing.

  And as the cab pulled up to the curb, I hurried out and got in the back. I gave him Frankie’s address, my heart racing and beads of sweat covering my whole body.

  If Frankie was even still there, would he recognize me? Would he remember who I was or what we shared? Would he forgive me for just leaving?

  I guess now was as good a time as any to find out.

  15

  Nadja

  Nearly an hour later, the cab was pulling to a stop in front of the gates that surrounded Frankie’s home. I knew his brothers all lived here together, or at least they had years ago. I’d never actually been inside, but he’d shown me his home.

  Although I knew my father would have been able to find out every shred of information on Frankie with little effort, I’d still been too afraid to even drive by his house. But Frankie insisted, telling me he could handle himself if need be, and then he’d given a wink like it was no big deal. God, I’d wanted to be able to just push my worries aside, to not know who my father was and the organization he was associated with.