As I get ready to walk through the door, Arthur grabs my arm and stops me.
“I will knock when you have one minute left. Please, hurry.”
I nod my head again then walk into the room. The metal door is secured behind me, and I see a shell of a man sitting before me.
Victor used to be a stocky yet slightly muscular man. He was physically fit and could handle his own. Or so the stories of his time spent next to Ademar have said. Yet now, Victor looks old and frail. His gray hair is barely covering his scalp, and he has wasted away to nothing. There is no muscle or fat, just bones and skin. However, when his eyes connect with mine, I plunge back to the time when I first met Victor. His eyes are still feral and intense. Some would say he is crazed, and maybe he is, but it will be this crazed killer who gives me the information I need.
I walk deep in the room and sit across from him. He smiles wickedly, excited for our conversation.
Before I say a single word, I bend the bobby pin and start picking the lock. I jamb the small hair barb into the key hole and press then twist slightly, triggering the mechanism to click. Seconds later, the lock pops, freeing me from the steel. I set them on the table then stand.
Victor’s eyes follow me as I yank my shirt over my head, exposing my tattoos. This is our unspoken agreement among Thieves. By looking at my body covered in our gang’s propaganda, Victor knows my entire criminal history without me speaking a word.
He lifts his cuffed hands and taps to his shoulder then motions with his eyes to the tattoos on mine. It’s my epaulet. He wants to know what outfit within the Vory V Zakone I represent with the assassin’s mark, the mark of the trusted leader.
“Stravinsky,” I say, and his eyes widen in glee. In Russian, I begin, “I need to know where to find him. Do you know where he’s hiding?”
“I took heads for mine.” Victor points to his shoulder again, alluding to what he had to do to earn his mark. “Many, many heads.” He smiles a heinous grin that chills even me slightly.
Of course, the stories have been shared among the Thieves. At the time, Victor was newer to the organization. He and Stravinsky were in their twenties and equals. We had a massive vendetta with a group of Arab overlords who stiffed the Vory V Zakone on payment for prostitutes. Victor and Stravinsky banned together, earning their epaulets by taking down thirty men and bringing back each and every head.
I clear my throat and ask him again, “Stravinsky, where is he?”
Victor tilts his head to the side. “Why?”
This is the part I was not looking forward to. I don’t really know how Victor feels about him. Yes, Victor went crazy, and Stravinsky cut him loose, but does he hold ill will toward him? Will he candidly divulge the information, or does he still have contact with him? I have been out of touch for so long.
I decide to use the Josslyn excuse. If Victor knows I’m seeking Stravinsky’s whereabouts because I have Josslyn in my possession, it won’t look suspicious to him. Well, I don’t think so, anyway.
Continuing to speak in Russian, I explain, “A woman who witnessed a crime fifteen years ago is alive. She’s a police detective and has been trying to find the men responsible for her father’s death. She can put Stravinsky away if he’s not warned of her threat. I have to protect him, but I’ve been locked up and unable to get in contact. I need you to help me out.”
“What crime did she witness?” Victor asks, still skeptical of my story.
“Her father was the man trying to take us down in Little Odessa. Remember the heat he was putting on the group? Stravinsky paid him a visit. He and his wife are dead, but the girl … She survived. She is the detective. I need to get her to Stravinsky. He’d want to deal with her himself.”
“I don’t know where he is. I haven’t heard from him in many years.” He looks out to the side and sits quietly, like he’s reminiscing about the last time they spoke. “But if you want answers, you must go to the land of Lincoln.”
“What?” I shake my head, irritation escalating with his answer. “Who is Lincoln?”
“He was a great leader during a bloody, bloody time, my friend.” Zaretski just smiles and nods his head like he agrees with me, but he gives me shit.
Needing to move, I stand to my feet then rake my hand through my hair and sigh out in frustration. As I make another lap from the table to the wall, a pounding sounds from the other side of the door—Matthews alerting me to the solitary minute I have before I need to leave.
I turn back to Victor, leaning my hands on the table. “Where can I find Stravinsky?”
“Baseball, sir. I never thought I’d like this American sport, but baseball is fun.” He gives a little wicked laugh and looks over at me. “Don’t you think so, sir? Baseball is fun, no?”
He has officially lost his mind, and I’m getting nowhere with him. I snatch my shirt off the floor and pull it over my head just as Matthews flies through the door, nervous and sweating.
“They’re here. The interns are on the floor. You have to get out of here.”
Moving quickly, I step from the old man at the table. “See you in Hell, Victor.”
I make my way over to the door. Matthews peeks his head out and looks down the hall. “You’ll never get out of here without someone seeing you.”
“Take it off,” I say, pointing to his white doctor’s coat. “All of it. Take it off.”
“My clothes? Why?”
“If you want to get out of this, then do what I say and stop fucking questioning me.”
Arthur shudders yet quickly starts removing his clothes, and I shrug my clothes off, as well.
“Here, put these on.” I toss him my prison attire and pick up his tan dress slacks and button down shirt off the floor. Then we both frantically change our clothes.
I get myself situated, tucking in the cotton dress shirt and pulling on the white doctor’s coat. Victor is in the background, laughing heinously, the chilling soundtrack to our desperate situation.
“Look at me,” I say curtly, keeping Matthews calm and focused solely on me. “I’m going to cuff you and take you back to the room I was in.” He gulps down his fear and nods his head. “When we get out to the hallway, look at your feet. Say nothing. Do nothing.” He is on the verge of losing it, but I keep him reined in as much as possible. “Got it?”
Matthews nods, and then we step from the door. I look over at Victor as he smiles a big, toothy smile and shouts in Russian, “Good luck, brother. Don’t forget to take in a baseball game!”
I shake off the comment and close Victor’s door behind me.
The only exit out of this place is swarmed by young and hungry college students getting a tour by someone who surely knows I’m not Arthur Matthews, which is why it’s important for me to get to my room undetected.
As we start walking down the hall, Matthews’s legs wobble with each step, and I can tell he is about to keel over soon.
I link my hand under his elbow, grabbing him tightly. I lean forward and whisper, “Keep it together. We are almost there.”
The group of interns is coming our way. We are at a crossroads, and if I don’t get to the room soon, they will be standing in front of it, looking in on nothing. My cover will then be blown. Then plan B will have to be put in place. That is a very bloody and destructive plan I won’t initiate unless I absolutely have to.
I can hear the hospital tour guide give a brief description of the person behind the door and why they are being seen today. I’m certain she is aware of me—the unknown man responsible for killing an entire family, mutilating two random men, and holding a police officer captive. I’m sure the buzz of having me and Victor on the same floor, arranged to have the same test, is very appealing to the students. Too bad it will never happen.
We get within a few feet of the door when the crowd of interns moves to the door next to the one we are planning on going in. Matthews’s arm starts to moisten my palm the closer we get to the group. I squeeze it firmly, letting him know I will not allow u
s to get caught if he just keeps his head. Finally, we arrive at the door.
I pull the group of keys on the metal spool and the small chain extends from my waist. There are about ten keys on this thing, and the group of interns is within moments of coming up to me. I look at each one of them, biding my time and alerting Arthur for help all in one.
He looks down and sees me fumble with the keys then says, “Fourth from the left.”
I fan the keys out and select the one he directed me to. The second I put it in the lock and twist, it pops open and we quickly move inside. I don’t bother shutting the door, not for what I need to do.
“What the hell are we going to do? We can’t change our clothes in time!” Arthur is in a full-on panic. He is pacing frantically and choking back his tears.
He mumbles, “I should have never done this,” over and over. The sound of his voice frustrates me, splitting every controlled nerve I have in my body.
On a whim, I turn on my heel and punch him in the temple. Arthur goes down like a brick, knocked out cold. Wasting no time, I yank him off the floor and put him in the prisoner’s chair at the table. I position him hunched over the table, laying his head on top of his folded arms and turning his face away from the door. I can hear the voices getting louder as I quickly walk to the door. The doctor leading the tour meets my rushed body, and we collide. I can feel the heat rise up as my anxiety about getting out of this place undetected skyrockets.
Her hands land on my chest, her eyes meeting mine. “I’m sorry.”
She’s a woman of my age and very beautiful, though obviously embarrassed. Her body is curvy with full breasts and womanly round hips. Her smile is gleaming, and she smells of a soft rain and clean laundry. I momentarily stir awake. However, I ignore the intensity of my cock pressing firmly against my zipper.
I smile at her with my eyes. “Pardon me, ma’am.”
I nod my head then move around her and toward the stairwell. The other students look at me, but I ignore their eyes. I trudge down the hall, certain I’m in the clear.
“What can you tell us about this patient, doctor?” My feet slam to a halt when the woman addresses me.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and turn on the charm. Turning around, I tell them, “He’s out cold. The patient was very disruptive during transport, and we had to give him a sedative. I was just checking on him, but it looks like he’ll be out for a while.”
I turn back on my heels and stroll toward the stairs. As I descend, I assume the identity of Arthur Matthews.
With each step I take, I start thinking about how I can put it all together. Victor proved to be a dead end, so now I’m back to square one. However, I have one benefit from today. I’m walking the streets free from the confines of my prison cell, but now I will be on the run. Next stop will be Blythe Harbor to get my briefcase, my car, and my insurance policy—Josslyn.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Josslyn
August 10, 2015 10:03 p.m.
My head is in a fog when I hear the pounding on the other side of my door. I slowly blink my eyes open. The thudding sounds again, only louder and more authoritative this time. The smallest hint of déjà vu hits me. I was awoken the same way yesterday by Manny.
I pull my sweatshirt over my exposed arms and slip on my yoga pants. After my hot shower, I was too tired from my emotional rant to fully get dressed. I only pulled on a pair of panties and an old T-shirt then passed out from the mind-numbing concoction of exhaustion and two pain pills. Not recommended by the doctor, but I wanted to be certain I slept off the emotional turmoil. Turns out, it’s a day later. Plan succeeded.
The person on the other side of the door slams his fists into the door again, and I’m now fully aware to what is happening. I walk to my couch and pull the .38 from my bag. I palm the heavy steel weapon and get comfortable with it in my hand. I walk slowly to the door, careful not to alert the person on the other side.
Damn, I really wish my door had a peephole. I push my ear against the wood, hoping to hear the identity from their voice or something before I allow them to come in to my apartment.
“Joss!” Gabe screams from the other side.
I roll my eyes and stand back before unfastening the locks. When I yank open the door, he is standing there in his khaki pants and polo shirt. It’s basically the same outfit he wore the day before, only a different colored shirt.
“Dammit, Joss, I was about to break down your door. I’ve been blowing up your phone!”
I think for a second. My phone. Where is it? I never have it too far away from me, but then I remember it’s in my bag, dismantled from my meeting with Nikolai. I totally forgot to put it back together before I went to sleep.
He holds up the keys to my car and puts his other hand on the barrel of my gun, lowering it to the ground. I take my key ring and hold up the one that goes to my apartment.
“Some detective,” I respond, simultaneously rolling my eyes.
“He escaped,” Gabe interjects.
Instantly, my stomach drops to my feet as my blood runs cold. He escaped? How? How could that happen? He was heavily guarded while awaiting arraignment. There is no way he could have gotten out.
I look over at Gabe, unable to comprehend, unable to speak.
“He was sent to the state hospital in Walla Walla for testing, and he managed to escape there.”
“Do … Do you think he’ll come here?” I ask, knowing the sickening feeling in my gut is never wrong.
“Walla Walla is three hours away, Joss. They have the state police, sheriffs, and local law enforcement searching the area. He won’t get far.” His eyes are trying to convince me of what my mind knows is a lie.
There is nowhere else he would go except for straight at me. I know too much. He’ll kill me before he moves on.
I shake my head and swallow down my uncertainty.
“Joss, he won’t come near you. I promise you. I won’t let him touch you.”
The air between us is heavy, nearly as heavy as my worry. Manny warned me he would never stop until he finished what he started. I don’t know why I ever thought this was over. God, I’m a damn idiot!
Nikolai is a criminal mastermind, the ultimate manipulator, and if he wants something, he’ll take it by any means necessary. Why should I be any different? He won’t just forget about me. His entire way of life has been seek and destroy. It’s all he understands, and it won’t be too long before that destruction is standing on my doorstep.
I shake the looming thoughts away and attempt to distract myself from any other thought. I recall the events of yesterday, and wonder how Gabe found out about Nikolai.
“Did Ortiz call you?”
He nods his head and walks to the door, locking the dead bolt.
“Did you get suspended?”
“Two weeks without pay, all because of that fucking lowlife murderer.” He grits his teeth, scowling. “I can’t believe I let that piece of shit get to me the way he did. I’m not normally like that.” He gestures to me. “You know that better than anyone.” Gabe walks deeper into my apartment, looking very agitated and on edge, which is completely warranted.
I get it. Nikolai is a cold, evil mastermind, a manipulative criminal who has been playing all of us from the moment he stepped foot in Blythe Harbor. Shit, I wouldn’t be surprised if he concocted this entire let’s get captured and torture the police detectives until they all disappear.
The awkward silence surrounds us as much as the blackness of the space. The only light shines from the blinking clock on my oven. My apartment is as dark as it is outside.
Walking cautiously, I move to the side table lamp and turn it on. Gabe keeps his distance, looking at me like I’m a frail cat. The agitation from his earlier rant disappears the moment he sees me move. We are very close as partners, so I’m sure seeing me broken is not easy for him. However, the pathetic, sad look makes it all that much worse. Frankly, it disgusts me.
“Spare me the pity party, Gabe. I’m fi
ne.” I cross my arms over my sides, trying to keep my tough front. “He won’t get me, because if he does, he has no idea who he’s coming after. Besides, I’m not comfortable with you standing here like I’m some broken flower. Yes, I’m sore, and yes, what’s happening sucks, but when you look at me the way you are now, it only makes me feel worse. Okay?”
I still feel a little vulnerable from the crying nonsense in the shower, but I know, if anyone could break me down in my fragile state, it’s Gabe.
I’m worried. Shit, I’m frightened. It’s plausible that, before I could even stop him, Nikolai could have his knife in my chest and watch the life escape from my body as Gabe lies dead next to me. We both would be dead. Nikolai would win.
“Look, I’m just here to check on you and return your car.” He takes a step closer, but he doesn’t reach out for me. “If he’s out for you, you can’t be sitting here alone in the dark. You need someone to”—Gabe hesitates—“protect you.” The anger begins to grow again, but it’s much more controlled. “The guard I put outside your apartment was killed. It looks like it was a professional hit. I’m not sure how, but I know this asshole is behind it. Jim said the guard was killed yesterday and that asshole hadn’t escaped yet, but he has to be behind it.”
The sight of seeing that man hunched over the steering wheel and the conversation I had with Manny comes flashing back to me. I have barely begun to mentally process what I went through in the hours I spent with Nikolai, and then to be told I’m being watched by a hit man … Every move I make until Nikolai is done with me will be scrutinized and reported back to him. Or he’ll do it himself. If they deem I’m in violation of his rules, I will be killed, along with anyone who is with me.
I blink the thought out of my head and return to what is presently happening.
Gabe starts to take his shoes off and gets comfortable on my couch.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not leaving, Joss, not until I know you are out of danger.” He puts his legs up on the end of the couch and crosses them at the ankles. He is clearly getting cozy for the long haul.
Away with You (The Revenge Series Book 2) Page 8
