Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“What do you think?” She rolls her eyes without fear of repercussions. I’ve more looked out for her than made an effort to be her friend the past several months, but she doesn’t fear me. She thinks I’m playful.
I doubt she’ll feel the same way when I send the text burning a hole in my pocket since I stored my phone in there when she exited the bathroom.
My eyes snap up from the floor when Katie says, “Lera mentioned she’s going on a plane. Do you think that is what this is about?”
“A plane?” When she nods, I ask, “Does Ghost know?”
There was no mention of a plane in the file Kirill shoved into my chest. It was standard travel the Bobrovs use when going abroad. A cargo ship full of whores and maids.
“I don’t know.” She twists her lips while touching her ear with her shoulder. “He was in the pantry when she said it, so he may have heard her.” After a brief pause that gives me nowhere near enough time to work out if Ghost knows I’m a snitching prick, she asks, “Did he stay here last night?”
Her sigh ruffles a strand of hair fallen in front of my eye when I shake my head. “He comes here every night, though.”
“To check on Lera?”
I laugh. It is what I do when I’m feeling manic. “Lera was only moved here last night. You, however, have been here for months. If you were two seconds later, you might have passed him in the secret stairwell.” Needing an excuse to leave, I nudge my head to her clothes splayed out on her bed. “I will wait for you outside while you get dressed.”
Katie walks me to the door, her stomach dropping as ruefully as mine did when she mentioned Lera going on a plane when she peers down the hallway.
Kirill has no intention of returning to Russia. He’s packing everything, including the paintings that were hung on the wall when I arrived on this monastery’s doorsteps with ringing wet hair and an ugly scar.
After moving into an alcove a couple of spots down from Katie’s room, I yank my cell phone out of my pocket and dial a frequently called number.
Ghost doesn’t bother issuing a greeting, “She’s right. They’re on a fucking plane.” The relief in his tone is mammoth, and I can’t wait to loosen the noose that commenced strangling me the instant it was freed from Ana’s neck. “Now we just need to… get… out. Everything is… set… I… ha.. t…”
“Ghost?” When he fails to answer me, I pull down my phone and check the screen. Our call is still connected. The timer is moving. “Can you hear me?” I ask after returning my phone to my ear. “Ghost?”
While cussing about the silence, I end our call before dialing another number.
“Did you check the airport?” I ask the instant my call connects with Yev.
A loud whoosh sounds down the line, closely followed by a request for me to repeat what I said.
“The airport? Did you check on that investment I bought at the local airstrip?”
“We’re heading there now. I got a tip-off that the owner may be shedding a few more shares,” Yev replies just as I spot a man at the end of the hall. His watch is so fucking obvious, the instant he realizes I’ve spotted him, he races down the stairs.
“Keep me updated.”
I end our call before Yev can reply before taking off after one of Kirill’s men on foot. I need to stop him from calling Kirill and announcing I’m seeking ways out of our agreement. If he makes contact with Kirill before I catch him, Anastasia is dead.
I’ve been dying for carnage for hours, so I don’t yank my gun out of my jeans when I catch up to the man pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. I slam his head into the brick pillar holding up the front veranda before punishing his ribs with back-to-back jabs.
When his phone lands on the floor, its screen shows his call has connected but that there are only a few seconds on the countdown.
I snatch up the phone, block the microphone, then warn in an extremely threatening manner exactly what I’ll do to him if he doesn’t blame his pocket for dialing Kirill’s cell.
Once the scent of his piss is drenching his jeans, I hit the speaker button on his phone’s screen, then tilt it toward his mouth.
His inability to hold his bladder when scared exposes he will follow orders, but he ups the possibility of him staying alive by murmuring, “They’re on their way to the docks.” As his begging eyes dance between mine, he adds, “No issues.” His caller thanks him for the information before saying they’ll meet him at the port. I wait for him to agree before disconnecting the call.