Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Yes.” She wraps her arms around my middle. Like us.” Then she propels me toward the door. “Come on. You don’t have a jacket, and it’s cold out here.”
“Yes. And Ravil is waiting for us.”
Kira
Maykl hates the idea of me being bait, but I can take care of myself. I have a gun strapped to my leg. According to Dima, the Chicago Bratva’s hacker, Stepanov has not left the country. His phone seems to have been destroyed, though. I called the office line at work and left him a message, saying I needed help getting home because my passport and things were still at the Kremlin.
Stepanov called back and asked where I was. I told him I was staying at the flophouse where my sister’s body had been found.
It seemed like something he might believe, and I sort of enjoyed the full circle of returning to the place where it all began in Chicago.
I wait now on the broken steps to the graffitied house.
A black town car pulls up. The doors don’t open. No one gets out. Which means the bratva members hiding in the building to shoot, won’t be able to.
I get up and walk to it, pulling open the door.
I sense Maykl’s silent protest from behind the boarded-up windows of the flophouse. The Chicago bratva are waiting there, hoping to make clean kills here in a neighborhood where no one talks about criminal activities.
It’s all right, though. I’m strapped with a weapon, wired for audio, and have a half-dozen trackers on me. I know Maykl and his brothers will be right behind us.
I climb into the backseat of the car, which takes off driving before I’ve even shut the door. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
Stepanov is in the backseat. He pats me down for a weapon but misses the gun in my boot.
“I slept here last night. I ran after you left last night.” I make my face sullen and stubborn. “I’m not going back.”
“No? What of your lover? You won’t forgive him?”
I’m not much of an actress, but I draw on the genuine anger I felt last night. The shock and betrayal that had rocked me. “Never.”
But I fold my arms across my chest. “You told me I was working with the FBI.”
“A little lie to ensure your cooperation,” Stepanov says. “But I do have contacts there, and they are working on finding your nephew.”
Another lie, I’m sure.
“But we are leaving the country right now. If you wish to come with us, this is your only chance.”
“But I told you, I don’t have a passport.”
“You don’t need one. We travel on private aircraft.”
I pretend to relax. “Good.” Hopefully, Maykl heard that and knows where to go. I’m not sure I actually believe I will end up on that plane alive. Even if Stepanov’s intentions are good, I don’t plan on going back to Russia with them.
I sweat through the remainder of the drive. No one makes conversation, which makes it even more tense.
Seventy minutes later we reach a private airstrip where crates are being loaded onto a plane.
Stepanov gets out without a word. I follow him.
A large man with an oversized forehead stands in front of the plane, and I draw in a surprised breath. “Leonid Kuznetsov.” I say it out loud, so the Chicago bratva will hear. I recognize the head of the largest branch of the Moscow bratva.
He glares at me. “Why is she here?”
“She cannot forgive her lover for what he’s done. She’s coming back to Russia with us.” Stepanov puts a meaty hand on my nape and when his thumb slides up and down, my stomach turns. I remember how he made a play for me in the past.
I imagine he expects me to play nice with him now. Disgusting pig.
“She’s your responsibility,” Kuznets says.
“Of course.” Stepanov maneuvers me toward the plane’s entrance.
I start to panic. What if the guys don’t get here in time? Do I just cut my losses and run? I have a weapon, but there’s no way I can take down four men by myself. Besides, I’m not the one with a vendetta. I don’t need these men dead.
I just needed to do this for Maykl. To prove my loyalty and clear my name with his brotherhood. So, I can be accepted into their circle.
“I have to use the restroom,” I say, trying to avoid getting on the plane.
“Use the one in there.” Stepanov jerks his thumb toward the cabin.
Blyad’.
I climb the steps to get on the plane and find the tiny bathroom where I lock myself inside to formulate a plan.
Maykl
“Where’s their location?” I shout, taking a turn at fifty miles an hour. “I lost the signal.” I’m in my Ford Bronco with Adrian and Dima. Two other vehicles loaded with Chicago bratva soldiers hurtle behind us.