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A few moments pass before a thick Russian accent comes through.
My fingers tighten around the phone, a bad feeling settling in my stomach. What if Frankie isn’t who he said he was? What if he’s framing my dad?
And I’ve let him do all of this to me.
I swallow, holding my breath; waiting for one of them to speak.
“Well, I’m here. What do you have for me?” Frankie says, and I want to throw up.
“Those addresses you sent me, they’re run by the Reapers Motorcycle Club. Who apparently now have direct links to my father in Moscow.”
“And this links to George and Romano?” Frankie asks.
I let out a whoosh of air.
“My father and Romano have formed an agreement. Romano is tight on cash. Since going off grid, this is easy money for them.”
There’s a pause before I hear Frankie’s voice. “Can you stop them in Vegas?”
“I’m sure we can come to an agreement, Mr. Falcone.”
The line is silent. My heart races. I want to believe him. He’s saying all the right things. But can I really trust him?
A bang comes from the front door, and I scoot back on the couch. Muffled voices sound and I jump up from my seat. I know it isn’t Frankie outside. Snatching up my phone, I sprint to the kitchen and pick up the knife that was left on the counter.
I make a dash to my office, closing the door enough that I can still peer through with a full view of the living room. Opening my gun safe, I pull out my backup pistol. I’d feel better with my service weapon, I had to leave that at the station along with my job.
I jump as the door is beaten off its hinges and my jaw nearly hits the floor when Chad waltzes into my apartment like he owns the place. A phone in one hand and a handgun in the other.
“Go and see if she’s asleep.” Alex orders Chad over the phone, who pushes my bedroom open slowly.
“She’s not here.”
“Well, go in and start looking for the book!” Alex’s anger pours out of the tiny speakers.
Rage mixed with fear flows through me. I tighten my grip on my weapons.
Chad starts tearing through my room. Each drawer hits the floor with a thud.
These assholes.
“Anything?” Alex asks.
“Nope,” Chad grunts.
“Go check the other rooms, then.”
Shit.
I take a step back, pressing my back against the wall, aiming my gun in front of me. Heavy footsteps get louder and the door comes towards me as Chad steps in. I take a deep breath and hold it. If he doesn’t find me, I won’t have to kill him.
He moves across the room, closer to my desk. I keep my sights set on his head. Frankie’s words replay in my mind. It’s me against them.
Blood thumps in my ears, and everything is in slow motion as he turns to face me. The realization settles on his face and he reaches for his waistband.
Without thinking, I pull the trigger.
My feet are frozen to the ground as I slump against the wall.
