“What do you want, Manny?” I ask as I pull the chair out and sit across from him. My ribs scream in agony, but my expression remains stoic.
“I’ve been called to deliver a message to you,” he replies in his deep baritone.
I keep my face even, knowing what that means. Either he is here to kill me and report back that it has been done, or Nikolai has a request, one I will not want to be compliant with. From the little time I spent with Nikolai, I can only imagine what his demands will be.
My adrenaline pumps wildly throughout my body, and my hands shake as I inch closer to the gun affixed under the table. However, I decide to play along.
“What message is that?”
“I received a phone call this morning, requesting I escort you to the police station. He would like to have a word with you regarding something of great interest to you.”
I can’t help noticing Manny is not using his name.
Nothing was found in our criminal databases—or any database, for that matter—when we searched for information on the unknown dead men and Nikolai’s brother. I bet the same discovery was made when they booked Nikolai, and I told the police nothing.
Once I saw him drive away, I was in a weird mental state. Maybe it was shock, but I simply couldn’t form any words at that particular moment. Although I tried so hard to speak, I couldn’t really make sense of what was going on. Gabe decided I needed to go home for a while as I processed the events of the evening. Obviously, he was right. I guess all I needed was to sleep it off since I have no problem talking with Manny now.
“I’m not an idiot, Manny. You can use his name. Just say his name,” I say, deciding to test him.
“No, detective, I can’t. I don’t know his name. I only know him as Mr. Black, and you and I both know that is not his real name. I’d rather not know what it is, either. The less I know, the better.” Manny slides his chair back, causing me to jump and clutch the revolver.
I don’t reveal it’s there; I simply hold it as it remains attached to the table. He catches on quickly, though, and holds his hands up.
“That will not be necessary, but if it makes you feel better, go ahead and point it at me.”
I yank the gun out of the holster and stand. My ribs burn, but I keep my face stern as I hold it up and point it at his chest. “Don’t fuck with me, Manny.”
“I’m afraid I’m quite serious, detective. You need to come with me, and it needs to be now.”
“Are you aware of how this looks, Manny? I’m not a moron. Any death wish I may have had was incinerated the moment I woke in that warehouse, held captive by a psycho. So, yeah, I’ll pass. Thanks, anyway.”
He has to be crazy if he thinks I’m getting in a car with him to go to the police station. I can guarantee that is not where we will go. Most likely, he’ll have me swimming in concrete boots before the sun sets over the horizon.
“He warned me you’d be a challenge.” Manny uncomfortably laughs as if reminiscing on his conversation with Nikolai. “However, he did want me to share that this has something to do with that horrible night when you were fourteen years old. I have no idea what that means, but he said you’d know exactly what I was talking about.”
As the words leave his mouth, my body starts to wilt until I find the chair behind me. The night that changed my life forever, the night that destroyed my family and my childhood. How the hell does Nikolai know about that?
My mind flashes back to that bloody night: my sight completely encased in blackness and the sounds of my father pleading to save my mother and me from his inevitable fate. The screams from my mother send a chill throughout my body. I visibly shudder from the sound. The pain from the torture inflicted on me comes back as my insides ache from the vivid memory.
I lower the gun to my lap and push it into the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. I have to go now. If Nikolai knows anything about the night my father was murdered, I have to talk to him. The Brooklyn Police Department never found the killer, and the sleepless nights I spent trying to dig up something led me nowhere. Now the information is being offered up on a blood-covered platter, and holding all of the answers is the man who nearly killed me twelve hours ago.
Keeping my sights locked on Manny, I stand from the chair and walk backward toward the door. Slipping my shoes on one at a time, I do my best to shake off the assault my emotions are inflicting on my courage and move closer to the exit. I grab my small work bag off the back of the couch and sling it across my body, wincing from the jolt of pain in my midsection. Although, I refrain as much as I can from letting the pain show on my face.
Opening the door to my apartment, I step out to an unsettling reality.
“In front of me. Move,” I demand, pulling my revolver from my pocket to let him know how serious I really am.
Manny steps in front of me, and then I follow him down the stairs.
The pavement is wet from the afternoon rain, and the air still smells fresh. I grasp the damp handrail firmly and slowly walk down the flight of stairs. It hurts with every step, but I keep descending.
My clasp is firm on the gun hidden in my sweatshirt. I will not let it go until I’m safe inside the police station. I know this is dangerous, but why else would Manny say what he did unless Nikolai truly has information of that night? Nevertheless, I can’t help thinking about what he wants in return for the information he is willing to share. Nothing is ever free.
When we approach the bottom of the stairs, I look to my left, seeing an unmarked, black police cruiser. I get ready to make up an excuse about why I’m leaving with this clown, but when I pass by the door, my feet instantly freeze.
The man inside is motionless, his head tilted back against the headrest. Dead.
“Stop!” I shout to Manny, and he halts.
I walk around to the driver’s door and open it. A small, red line is embedded deep into his neck, a clear sign of someone being strangled with a wire or rope.
I pull my gun out and point it at Manny. “Get down on the ground. Hands behind your head!” I yell, aiming my gun directly at his chest.
When he gets down, I pull out my handcuffs from my bag that also holds my police issued gun and badge and fasten his wrists in the steel. I pull my cell phone out and start to dial 911.
“Detective, that’s not a good idea.” Manny slowly turns around.
“Shut up! Get down, NOW!”
“I didn’t kill him, detective. And I can guarantee the person who did is still watching us. If you call this in, they will know and your life will soon change for the worse. Please, put the gun down and get into the car.” Manny’s eyes are pleading with me.
My gut tells me he is speaking the truth. He is simply the messenger boy, nothing more. I sense he is frightened for his life, too.
“He has his people watching me?” I reply slowly, losing my will to be strong in this moment.
“Yes, and he’ll continue to have people watching you until you agree to his plan.” Manny clears his throat, worry written all over his face. “If you talk to anyone about what happened to you last night or the conversation that took place between you and him, those hired hit-men are ordered to take the person out.” He pauses to clear the discomfort of the conversation out of his voice again. “And to take you out.”
“How is that possible?” I ask, dumbfounded and frightened. Regardless, I keep my strong façade and my emotions in check. “He can’t possibly have someone watching me all the time. Do you realize where we are going?”
“Especially where we are going. Please, let’s just get in the car.” Manny’s eyes have never looked so grave.
He is strongly insisting I take him seriously. I can tell by the way he is begging me with his gaze and how he fidgets back and forth. Perhaps he’s in danger of losing his life if I don’t comply with Nikolai’s demands.
From the confines of a prison cell, that asshole still has an unyielding hold on me. I have the sickening feeling that, until I watch him succumb to the lethal inj
ection from the State of Washington, he’ll continue to keep me at arm’s length.
As that thought passes through my mind, all my fight dissolves. I have no other choice. This is no hasty threat on my life or a sick game. This is reality. I know, if I want to survive this ordeal and keep others alive, I have to play by his rules. I’m responsible for every life I encounter, and if I speak, they would be silenced permanently. This could be the last day I walk on earth.
As if Mother Nature has a secret passage to my emotional distress, the skies open up, allowing fat drops of rain to pour down. The thunder rolling in the distance vibrates through my chest and matches exactly how I feel in my head. I want to go back to bed, rewind the past forty-eight hours and the very moment I encountered Nikolai Petrov.
Instead, I’m going to have to avoid conversations with my coworkers. I have no problem evading every single one of them except Gabe. Out of all my peers, he knows me the best. He’ll be able to tell straight away when I’m lying.
I nod my head to Manny, removing his cuffs, and then we both start walking to his car. With great hesitation I fall into the front seat, resigning myself to seeing the man who has singlehandedly turned my life upside down.
CHAPTER THREE
Josslyn
August 9, 2015 3:27 p.m.
My hair is dripping from the sudden onslaught of rain. I pull strands back and pile them on top of my head, securing them. My hands are shaking, so messing with my hair—with anything—will keep the visibility of my nervousness out of sight.
I look over at Manny and study his face. He is very good at keeping his emotions locked away, but he was desperate to get me in that car with him. He couldn’t hide his fear of what Nikolai could do. And I completely understand what Nikolai is capable of. He can mutilate bodies with no reservations and kill without losing any sleep. This is what truly frightens me.
If Manny is concerned for his safety, how can I not be petrified?
“Detective, you needn’t worry too much,” Manny says, busting into my thoughts.
“Why do you think I give a shit?” I try to keep the terror out of my voice.
“Because your thoughts are loud and clear. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. All you have to do is comply with whatever he wants, and you’ll be okay. I promise you.”
I turn to the side, pain wrenching through me from my ribs, and angrily face Manny. “How can you even say that? Do you know whom we are dealing with? He’s a damn psychopath! None of this is okay!” I shout so loudly Manny’s shoulders hop slightly toward the ceiling in his car.
He looks over at me, concern in his eyes, and agrees, “I guess you’re right, detective. None of this is okay. You and I are in the same boat. However, after I drop you off at the police station, my duty has been fulfilled. Well, I hope so, anyway. But yours might take a little more effort on your part to please him.”
“To please him? Really? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I huff out.
“Yes, detective. He is a man who is rarely told no and a man of great power in his own right. He possesses skills that no average criminal has. And the worse part, he enjoys using them.”
“How did you get involved with him, anyway?”
“I didn’t. He came to me because of my connection to the ports and the information I have on certain individuals who come and go from any major ports in the United States. I thought he was done with me after that one visit until his lawyer summoned me … and here we are.” Manny smiles a stupid, boyish grin that makes me want to deck him.
I turn my attention back to the scenery outside my window and erase the dreaded thought of my upcoming conversation with the killer.
.*.*.*.
August 9, 2015 3:54 p.m.
The air conditioning bites my wet skin as I make my way through the door of the police station. I can feel my skin prickle from the cool air, sending a shiver down my spine.
Manny told me the quickest way to get this over with is to just listen to what Nikolai has to say and do whatever he asks. He warned me that, even if he’s locked away in jail, it will do nothing to keep him from getting what he wants. Manny is clearly intimidated by Nikolai, but I do trust what he says. He’s been working with criminals like Nikolai for his entire life, and he’s still alive, which tells me Manny is compliant more than he is not.
When the elevator opens, I step forward and pull my ID badge from my bag, swiping it over the black scanner. The familiar beep sounds, telling me I’m clear to enter, and then I pull open the painted steel door.
The quiet noise of detectives working stops immediately as Cathy stands from her chair and squeals out in relieved happiness. “Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!”
Cathy is the grandmotherly type. She is in her early sixties, I guess, and always feels like it’s her job to soothe and console the rest of us.
She plods around her desk and pulls me into a tight embrace. The jolt of discomfort sends shockwaves through my midsection. She is truly a nice lady, but when she is causing my insides to explode with pain, I don’t want her anywhere near me. It’s all I can do not to grab her arm and break it off.
I should be happier than I’m to have her hold me. I always have my guard up, preventing my protective bubble from being invaded, but I’m in a different state of mind, and it surprises me how I’m letting her embrace me. After all, I haven’t been held by anyone like Cathy since my mother died, and sometimes, you need the comfort of their arms when you are desperate to feel love.
“Cathy, you need to let me go,” I demand, pulling my head back as much as I can so she can look into my eyes.
“I’m sorry, darling, but when I heard what you’d been through I … I just got overwhelmed.” She finally lets me go and studies my fragile state. “Oh, honey,” Cathy lifts her hand to my cut, swollen eye and grazes her thumb over the scabbed bruise.
I didn’t see the butt of his gun coming until it was smashing into the side of my face, and I didn’t really feel any pain until the rush of adrenaline dissolved in my veins. Then that was all I felt—excruciating pain. It was and still is everywhere. The wound bled for a while, but luckily, the paramedic patched me up without the need for stitches. It’s still tender to the touch, but my ribs are the cause of the pain crippling me right now. Damn, Nikolai. I should be home, recovering from what he did to me. Instead, I’m here, agonizing pain and all, only to see what more information he has on my father.
I step back and turn my body away from Cathy. The emotional distress from last night is starting to bubble under the surface. Her warm embrace only reminds me how much I miss my mother. I could really use her comforting arms right now. If I stay in Cathy’s presence for another second, I will explode into a fit of tears.
I ignore everyone else’s eyes, pull the hood of my sweatshirt up, and pull my iPod from my bag. Like I have done hundreds of times, I scroll through my song list until I come across “Oats in the Water” by Ben Howard. I fall away.
My coworkers are very familiar with how I work. I’m not the popular one, not by a long shot, and I’m okay with that. I’m the one who can take a glance at their open cases and tell them how badly their investigative skills are. I have called out many people’s mistakes in our debrief meetings, making it known to everyone in the room how they singlehandedly fucked up a lead or clue. Candidness like mine is not well received, which is why I’m never assigned to work with anyone. Gabe is the only person who can tolerate me and doesn’t take to heart when I tell him he screwed something up. The rest of them are a bunch of damn babies, crying at constructive feedback.
I walk to the kitchenette area and pour myself a strong cup of coffee. As the smooth sounds of music drown out the surrounding noise, they do nothing for my anxiousness.
I wrap my hands around the mug and bring it to my lips. The touch of warm steam swirling over my skin slightly relaxes me as I inhale the rich coffee.
I lean back against the counter and sip my drink, knowing I will be face-to-face wit
h Nikolai again. I will look into his wolfish eyes and try like hell not to be his victim. Nevertheless, I can sense that something inside of me will die. It may not be my physical life, but he’ll take something from me.
My gut swims with the agonizing thought. If I learned anything from being a detective, it’s to trust that feeling. My gut rarely lies, yet it kills me that I don’t know what part of myself I will lose.
I step from the break area and pull my cell phone out of my pocket. Scrolling through the list of contacts, I locate the one for the prisoner transport and hit send.
“Transport,” a man blurts after the second ring.
“This is Detective Stowe. I need a prisoner brought in this morning for questioning and placed in interrogation room two,” I state with the firmest voice I can muster. It sounds strange. I need to correct it if I’m going to be face-to-face with the master manipulator who happens to be the captor and criminal I’m trying to have prosecuted.
“What’s the prisoner’s name?”
“Ummm …” Then it occurs to me: I can’t say anything about him. According to what Manny said, I’m being watched.
I look up from the floor and crane my neck, looking over my shoulder. I scan the hallway outside the break room, but it’s empty. I don’t sense I’m being watched right now, so how would he know if I said something that would expose him? I’m not some loud-mouthed drama queen who only talks about her personal life. Shit, I hardly talk to anyone.
Then it hits me. I pull the phone away from my ear. He has a tap on my phone. He has to! Damn him for interfering with my life. The bastard has his hold on me, and I’m not anywhere near him. The moment I mention anything about Nikolai’s identity, his damn flunkies will seek out whomever I speak to and kill them and then … me. The instant I talk, I have sentenced someone to death. But the only person who deserves the sentencing is Nikolai.
It is my responsibility as a police officer to protect people. I have to take the threat seriously. Nikolai isn’t some idiot with a gun who has happened to get lucky so far. He is a methodical psychopathic killer, the worst kind of serial killer. He plots and plans, waiting for the right moment to see his ideas come to life. Those ideas are his babies. Nikolai creates them, nurtures them, and watches them grow until they’re ready to be unleashed. He wouldn’t frivolously say something that could jeopardize his plan. He would never go against his word. In fact, he has been pretty truthful thus far, with the exception of killing me. That wasn’t a mistake. He planned to keep me alive, just like he planned on getting arrested.
Away with You (The Revenge Series Book 2) Page 3
