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I grabbed his hand. “No! He kissed me, just once, before I could stop him. That’s all. I never slept with him.”
Konstantin sighed and relaxed and a big, unexpected glow soaked through me. It was me, not Christina, he cared about.
“This is why Christina was so scared, when we ran into her in the lobby and she realized you were going to impersonate her,” said Calahan. “This is why she escaped and came to the mansion. She was worried you were going to find out about the assassination and stop it.” His forehead wrinkled. “But then why did she take the deal and walk away?”
I looked at Konstantin. “Because she could tell I—” I swallowed. “That I was in love with him.” Even now, even with all that was going on, saying it out loud was a heady thrill. And Konstantin just stared right back at me, the blue in his eyes fiery, and squeezed my hand and nodded. Then I swallowed and hung my head. “She could see I was past investigating anything. She could see I’d switched sides.”
I closed my eyes and just slumped in despair. I had the real villain right there, and I let her go because I was so desperate not to lose Konstantin—
Someone grabbed my other hand and squeezed it. I reluctantly opened my eyes and saw Calahan. “We’ll get her,” he told me. “And find out who she’s working for.”
I looked between the two men. Things definitely weren’t resolved between them, but there was a sort of truce, for now. And with all three of us... maybe we could catch her. I nodded.
“Where would she go?” Calahan asked Konstantin. “Friends? Relatives?”
“Her father,” said Konstantin. “She visits him once a week. He lives on the Upper East Side.”
Calahan shook his head. “Remember when you went to the shopping mall and I checked Christina’s records to see if there was a photo of her mom? Both her parents are dead.”
Another lie. But—”She did go to the Upper East Side every week, though. I found a parking pass in her purse for an apartment complex called Barlow Heights.”
“Probably meeting the person she was working for,” said Calahan. “Checking in, getting orders. She could be hiding out there now!”
“But it’s an apartment complex,” I said. “How do we know which apartment?”
Calahan cursed under his breath and we stared at one another in frustration. It would be a thirty second job... if we had access to the FBI computer system. But we were fugitives.
“Okay,” said Calahan at last. “I know someone who might be able to find out.” He took out a cell phone. “A hacker group. They’re the best, and I know one of them. If I can reach her.”
“Her?” Konstantin sat forward and narrowed his eyes. “She is one of the sisters?”
Calahan looked thrown, but nodded.
“I know one of them also,” said Konstantin, sitting back in his seat. “They are the best.” He glanced at me, then looked almost embarrassed. “She sneaked into the mansion. Downstairs.”
To the dungeon? That was a story I was going to have to make him tell me. But it could wait.
Calahan’s call connected. “Li—Mary? It’s Calahan.”
A woman’s voice, with a New York accent. “You need a favor.”
A man’s voice in the background, richly Texan. “He always needs a favor.”
Within a few minutes, the phone was on speaker and we were listening to keys rattling. The woman typed so fast, it was almost a continuous buzz. “Most of the apartment rentals look legit. But there’s one, apartment 502, that’s rented by a company in Panama.”
Calahan sighed. “So you can’t give us a name?”
“Pfft.” The woman sounded offended. “What do you think I am? I’m tracing it back...that’s a shell company...that’s a front...hello! It all leads back to a Russian company owned by….” Her voice darkened, as if she knew the name. “Dmitri Ralavich.”
62
Hailey
BARLOW HEIGHTS was a high-end apartment complex, a slab of white stone and glass ten stories high with balconies that overlooked a shimmering blue pool. By the time we reached the fifth floor, it was twenty minutes to one.
Calahan lifted his foot to kick down the door of 502 but Konstantin got there first, lowering his shoulder and charging it like a bull. The door crashed to the floor...and there was Christina in a low-cut crimson dress, hair and make-up immaculate as always, throwing clothes into a suitcase. Getting ready to run.
“Hello darling,” growled Konstantin.
Christina looked at us and cursed. I could see her eying the door as if wondering if she could break past us and run. I shuffled sideways, making sure her way was blocked, and we glared at each other: an unsettling effect, like frowning into an enchanted mirror.
“How long?” Konstantin snapped. “How long have you been working for that bastard? When did Ralavich turn you?”
Christina blinked at him... then threw back her head and laughed. “Turned me?” She gave him a withering look. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
