Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“What did he say?” Huck asked.
“The Everglades,” I told them.
“The Everglades?” Seeley repeated. “How is that any help? That’s, what, twenty-three-hundred square miles?”
“Process of elimination says she’s not in any of the mansions. Actually, I think it would be safe to assume she’s not technically living anywhere. Not on the books,” I said.
“Still,” Seeley said, shaking his head.
“I know,” I agreed.
“Arty?” McCoy asked, making me look at him, brows furrowed. “He could hack the street cameras at least, see if he sees that car.”
That was… something. It would give us a general direction to go in.
“I’ll have Booker call him,” Huck said, already dialing.
It was no secret that Arty, our friendly neighborhood slovenly hacker, hero worshipped Booker. And while, if Arty was on a case, he would never answer the phone for us because he got hyper-fixated on his task, he would absolutely answer for Booker.
Ten minutes later, the car was full of awkward silence as we drove in the general direction of the Glades, which was just shy of an hour from Miami where we’d had our meetings with the Italians and Russians.
“Might be more helpful if we had some information about this situation,” Huck said, glancing back at me. “We know you worked as a wheelman for the Bratva under the direction of the Italians. But what did this woman have to do with it?”
I was just starting to piece that together myself.
“I don’t know the story about how Natalya came to work for the organization, but it was clear that she saw Iosif as a sort of father figure.”
“Then why’d he fire her?”
“That’s a good question,” I said.
“Meaning you don’t have the answer,” Huck concluded.
“No, I don’t. I’m suspecting it had something to do with Rolan, though.” Especially after talking to him.
“Why?”
“Because she was ride-or-die for Iosif. And Rolan wanted to take the organization over. If he saw her as an obstacle, he would have framed her for something, or found some other way to get her fired, get her out of the way.”
“So… she is pissed at you because you replaced her?” Huck asked.
“No. She hates me for being a mole. For being disloyal. It was Natalya who found me out, who somehow got word back to Iosif. She was the reason I nearly died coming off of that job.”
“But mad enough to kill you?” Huck asked, shaking his head. “I dunno. I’m not buying it.”
Yeah, it was a stretch. Especially after years had passed.
“Maybe she blames me for Iosif.”
“But there’s no link,” Seeley said.
“Not that I can think of, no. But Natalya is… cold, but passionate. If she thinks that any of my actions made it so that Rolan murdered her father figure, she would absolutely do anything in her power to make me pay, and to avenge Iosif.”
“Why don’t I have women in this club?” Huck said, shaking his head. “Seems like that level of… passion would be an asset.”
“So, how much danger is Maeve in?” Che asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I really didn’t know Natalya that well. Not well enough to know how willing she would be to hurt an innocent to get to me.”
“I mean… she shot Alaric,” McCoy reasoned.
“I think he said he drew first,” Seeley said. “And if she is as fierce as you seem to think she is, I think she was capable of a kill shot. She just didn’t take it.”
“And Alaric didn’t say she hurt Maeve when she took her.”
That was all true.
But a sick part of me was terrified that she was saving all of Maeve’s torture for when she could use it to torture me.
Even the thought of it turned my stomach, making me genuinely wonder if I was going to be sick.
Reaching up, I readjusted an air vent to blow on my face, trying to calm myself down, to stay focused.
“Got a text from Arty,” Huck said, looking at his phone. “He said that there are a lot of abandoned houses in the Glades. So once he finds the car on some traffic footage, he should be able to figure out what the closest abandoned or rental place is. I mean… it’s something,” Huck said.
And it was Arty we were talking about. The man’s bloodstream was ninety-five percent caffeine. I was pretty sure that when he was focused on a case, his fingers moved so fast on the keyboard that your brain couldn’t actually register the movement. I’d seen it happen myself. I’d hear the clicks, but it never looked like his fingers were moving. It was freaky.
With him knowing that Booker was paying attention to the case, he was going to be working even harder than usual to get us everything there was to find as quickly as possible. If for literally no other reason than a thank-you from Booker.
The man didn’t even care about the money, even though he made a fucking killing doing what he did. More than enough to move him out of his shoebox apartment.