Our lives had turned into some unofficial witness protection program. Manny had been sleeping over every night for two weeks – Kilo, too – and the outside of our building was being monitored twenty-four-seven. As promised, Manny was with the girls from sun up to sun down, and whenever they ventured out in an attempt to live life as normally as possible, Manny had two guys on their tail. He had another two outside of Karley’s office that followed her around, too. He’d insisted on sending one out with me as well, but walking into a client’s home with an FBI-looking motherfucker behind me was out of the question. I’d be fine. Besides, the initial plan started out with only four extra heads, and somehow Manny had added another four to the original count, all of which I knew he was paying out of pocket himself. I’d tried hinting I’d be more than happy to pitch in, but he was as stubborn as Hazel; at least, in this respect. There was no reasoning with him and after a few days of going back and forth about it, I dropped it. I was never going to win the uphill battle of wills, so why press my case further?
Besides, by the looks of it, we might’ve been on the verge of returning to our old lives. Week three post-Dimitri voicemail was quickly fading into week four, and he had yet to show his face. He hadn’t made any further contact either, and I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I had a theory that he knew we were on high alert, so he remained hidden in the shadows, waiting for us to put our guards down just enough for him to swoop in and cause mass destruction. I’d shared this little morsel of information with Manny, who agreed it was probable based on the type of man Dimitri was. Remember when he’d told us he was going to attempt to find out just what dirty shit Dimitri kept tightly under wraps? Well, it turns out that in just a few days’ time, he did. He uncovered a boatload of information even Maya was surprised to hear. Not only did this man smuggle drugs to and from Russia, he smuggled weapons and cases of counterfeit money to other parts of the globe too. He’d even brought a few spring chickens over from Russia under a work visa and forced them into elite strip clubs, deeming him owner of their passports until he saw fit. Dimitri Petrova was bad, bad news and, unfortunately for us, had connections all around the world. Now all we could do was wait and hope that perhaps he’d realized claiming what he thought was rightfully his was actually more of a hassle than he cared to deal with.
But we didn’t have to wait for long…
Just when I thought I saw some sort of light at the end of the tunnel, I received a text from Hazel one afternoon, while finishing up with my last client of the day. We were in the middle of our cool down when the text came in, but I didn’t see it until I made it into the 4 Series and started up the engine.
Kitten: Come home as soon as you can.
My heart stopped as I read and re-read the message several times to ensure I was reading it correctly. Obviously, my mind went to the worst place possible and, with quick fingers, I typed out a response with my stomach entrenched in my throat.
Me: Is everything okay?
Thankfully, her reply was relatively instantaneous, but the message didn’t settle me, not even remotely.
Kitten: No, but Manny’s here so don’t start freaking out.
Me: I’m on my way.
I peeled out of Mrs. Saunders’ driveway and raced home. And by raced, I mean driving through the streets at over sixty miles per hour, running a handful of red lights, and careening around corners like burning tires was going out of style. What could have happened? Had Dimitri called again? Had he perhaps upped his game to the next level and broken into the house? Had he gotten ahold of Maya?
Fuck.
I was a mere few blocks away from the condo when I got stuck in traffic. It wasn’t a constant stop and go, but it took me three cycles at the same light before I was able to make the final turn that led to the complex. Then I had to wait at least another three minutes right outside the development, as a funeral procession drove past me at the pace of a turtle. My knuckles were white against the steering wheel as I gritted my teeth impatiently, mentally counting to ten in attempt to keep it together for just a little longer.
As the last car in the succession rolled by, I threw myself across the street and jammed my keycard into the reader to access the gates. Apparently, the world was against me, or so it seemed, because the gateway had never opened so slowly.
“Come on, come on,” I gritted out, just barely wedging my way through before they opened in their entirety.
I zoomed past the buildings and screeched to a halt into my parking spot, noting the blacked-out SUV with Manny’s boys was situated directly behind me. Had to be somewhat of a good sign that they were still at their designated posts, right? I didn’t have time to consider it, though. Killing the engine, I flung myself out onto the pavement, slammed the door, and ran up the stairs to the second floor, two at a time. I rustled with my key ring and hastily jammed the winner into the keyhole, throwing the door open as soon as the locks clicked out of place.
Manny, Hazel, and Maya sat in the living room, their heads snapping toward the sound of my entrance with a quickness.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, completely out of breath after my adventurous trek across town.
Kilo bound over to me as Hazel stood to her feet with a small piece of paper in her grasp and made her way over to me. With a shaky hand, she set the paper in mine and waited for me to grasp the gravity of the situation, bending down beside the German Shepherd, who was patiently waiting for me to greet him.
You can run…
But you can’t hide.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“He was in here?”
Manny shook his head. “I suspect he knows we have eyes on the building, not to mention Kilo. Hazel found it in your mailbox when we came home from lunch with Reyna.”
I stole a glance at my girl and she nodded, leaning into the dog for support, her fingers sifting through his thick coat.
“How did he clear airport security?”
“Private jet. Unregistered.”
Of course. Should’ve seen that coming.
“So, is this message directed at all of us?” I queried, staring at the neat handwriting once more.
“No.” That was Maya, who was seated beside Manny. “That’s definitely meant for me. Think about his voicemail. He said he knew I was here. He’s telling me I can run, but he’ll eventually catch up.”
“Like hell he will. I’ll rip his head off with my bare hands,” my girl uttered viciously.
“Trust me,” Manny started, leaving his spot on the couch to stand beside the sliding glass door, “he’ll be swimming in a pool of his own blood before he gets anywhere near you two.”
Yes. He. Would.
“You think he’ll be stupid enough to try?”
“Possibly, but he’ll definitely be waiting for some prime moment, keeping us on edge with sporadic points of contact as a way to build the suspense. He’s closing in…”
“So, let’s run,” Maya inserted, instantly grabbing our attention. “My dad’s house, remember? It’s obviously not far but we can move there, throw him off. It’s not the house I grew up in either, so Dimitri won’t know where it is.”
I glanced at Manny, who nodded, a pleasantly surprised expression etched on his face.
“That’s actually a really good idea,” I said, and Hazel nodded beside me.
“When should we leave?” she asked.
“Right about now, I’d say,” Manny answered, pulling out his phone from the pocket of his slacks. “Pack light; one suitcase per each of you. Go.”
Maya bolted from her spot on the couch, down the hallway, and Hazel followed suit, belting out she’d pack for me too. Kilo wasn’t far behind them either, wagging his tail playfully, because to him, this was a game. When I turned my attention to Manny once more, he was typing away on his phone, presumably to our tagalong buddies outside.
“Alright,” he started as I dropped onto the couch, “we need to play this smart. So, with that being said, while we’re away, I’ll have these guys drop by at different times to turn the lights on and off. If Dimitri notices everything goes dark from one day to the next, it’ll give us away and he’ll start sniffing again. Hopefully this move will throw him off completely. We might even be able to catch him.”
“You think running is the right thing to do?” I asked wearily.
“I don’t know I’d call it the right thing, but it’s definitely smart. He won’t be expecting this at all.”
Or would he....