Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
My stomach lurched. Time had sort of gotten away from me since I went on the run. It had been almost two days. “Yep,” I said guiltily. “I’m okay.”
Calahan gave a groan of relief, and I heard him yell to Yolanda that she’s okay. Then he tore into me, which, to be fair, I deserved. “Where have you been?!” he yelled. “You couldn’t have called? I thought you were dead!”
“Sorr—” I started, but he wasn’t done.
“There was a car chase through the middle of Chicago, a BMW got swiss-cheesed, the FBI are still picking through the scene, a woman with dark hair was seen riding off on a motorcycle, I was hoping it was you, but I didn’t know—”
I tried to get a word in. “I—”
“The FBI has been all over me, but I told them you hadn’t contacted me. Except in this case, it was actually true because you couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone!”
Calahan finally finished his rant and panted for breath. And I closed my eyes, chastened. He’d always been protective of me and I’d left him terrified because I’d been too busy solving the mystery, as always. Solving the mystery...and fucking Gennadiy. I winced. “I’m sorry, Sam. I should have called.”
“You think?!” But I could hear that he was simmering down, and I knew the anger was just because he cared. He sighed. “What the hell is going on, Alison?”
I looked around. I was standing in the living room, right where Gennadiy and I had kissed for the first time. “A lot’s happened,” I admitted. I took a deep breath and moved outside, into the mansion’s gardens. Wandering across the manicured lawns, I told him everything, from the night I’d confronted Gennadiy about burning down the theater all the way up to now.
There was a long, slow rasping. I imagined Calahan rubbing his stubble. “You fell for him?” he asked disbelievingly.
I opened and closed my mouth a few times. “Not all at once. It took months. It sort of...snuck up on me.”
“Alison, the man’s a killer. How many guys has he killed, now?”
One more, as of last night, I thought. To protect me. “A lot,” I admitted.
“And from what I hear, he’s getting worse,” said Calahan. “He’s out of control.”
He sounded just like me when I’d been convincing my boss to let me go after Gennadiy. I closed my eyes. So much had changed in the last few months. “He’s not just some monster,” I muttered. “He’s…” I sighed. “I think there are reasons he is how he is. Maybe I can…”
“Change him?” asked Calahan.
I closed my eyes and said nothing. I knew how it sounded.
“I don’t want to fight,” Calahan told me. “And I’m not here to lecture you. I just want you to be safe.”
“I know. Thanks.” I meant it.
“How can I help?” asked Calahan.
I looked at the piece of paper that held Grushin’s phone number. “I have something I could use Yolanda’s help with…”
“Hold on.” I heard Calahan walk across the room. “You’re up,” he murmured, and there was the sound of a soft kiss. Then I was put on speaker.
“What do you need?” asked Yolanda.
I fiddled with the paper, nervous. “I need to know all the calls this phone number made.”
“Pfft,” said Yolanda. “Easy. Read me the number.”
“I’m a fugitive,” I stressed. “If they find out you helped me, you could go to jail.”
“What are friends for? Now read me the number.”
I read it out. I heard Yolanda’s fingers skittering across the keyboard, then a final, triumphant thump of the Enter key. “Easy,” she told me. “Got a list of names and addresses. I’ll send it over.”
I slumped in relief. “Thanks, Yolanda.”
Calahan came back on the line. “This Grushin guy sounds like bad fucking news. You want me to jump on a plane?”
I nearly had a heart attack. “No! Jesus, no, Sam, don’t come to Chicago. You could lose your job just for talking to me!”
“Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “But Alison? Be careful.”
45
GENNADIY
At first, I thought I was dreaming. I had dozed off right in the middle of the shopping mall, and I was having a nightmare. Any second, I’d wake up.
But no. Grushin was right there, ten feet away, and coming closer. His gray business suit matched his silver beard, the deep red tie like a slash of blood on his chest. He was in his early sixties, but he’d kept all the muscle he’d picked up in the military, and he had a lean toughness, like he considered fat a weakness.
I blinked, trying to process. He’s here. He’s right here. It wasn’t just that he’d tried to have Alison killed, or that he’d murdered Mikhail’s old lover. He was the arch enemy of all Bratva: it was like seeing the devil himself walking the earth. I felt the comforting weight of my gun in its holster. I can kill him. I can kill him right now, and he can never hurt anyone again…