“Ah, I see.” He continues, voice even and controlled. “I’m on my way to the meeting.”
“Okay.”
“It will be over soon, Alex,” he says, making every attempt to be reassuring. “This ends today. One way or another.”
I pour my coffee, taking a deep breath as I do so.
“Okay,” I echo.
There’s a brief pause before he speaks again. And I can hear from the motion in the car that he is not alone. And I find myself wondering who he is with.
“If you don’t feel safe at the apartment one of my men can take you and Evie to my penthouse,” he offers. “It’s more secure. Higher floor, better sightlines, fewer access points.”
I think of my to-go bag under the floorboard in my room as I pour the second cup of coffee and walk it to Vera. Considering her presence in my living room and the men across the hall as I do so.
“I’m okay here,” I lie.
Another pause. Then, in that tone that says, don’t lie to me, “Alex.”
“I know. I know.” I say, brushing his concern off. “Go. Do what you need to do.”
“I’ll call you when it’s done,” he relents.
“Okay,” I say again.
He hangs up, and I lean on the counter in the kitchen, holding the phone in one hand, my coffee in the other, and look at the grey sky outside. My mind starts running scenarios, that familiar anxious panic that screamsrunfinding its way in.
I stand there like that for thirty, maybe forty seconds. Then put my coffee down on the counter, pocket the phone, and go to my bedroom. Closing the door quietly before pulling the rug back and kneeling. The floorboard comes up easily, and the bag is right where I left it. I look at it for a long moment. Then pull it out.
This is what a responsible person with a child does. They prepare, and they run when necessary. I am packed and at Evie’s door in four minutes.
She’s already awake when I open it. Sitting on her bed with her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes locked on the window, she’s got her go bag on the bed beside her already. Which means she heard me moving and has been waiting. She already knows where my mind is going.
“Time to go?” she asks.
“They’re coming. Get dressed,” I tell her with a nod. Glancing at her bag, I add, “Bring that with you.”
When I go back to the living room, Vera is on her feet the moment she sees the bag in my hands. Assessing the situation.
“Victor sent instructions to go to the penthouse if you don’t feel safe here,” she says. Nodding at the bag, “I’m going to go out on a limb and say that means you don’t.”
“We need to get out of here,” I tell her. “Now. Those men are going to come for her and I am not going to sit here and wait for them. I can’t.”
Vera’s expression doesn’t change. “Alex–”
“I am not asking, Vera,” I say firmly. “I am telling you. We are leaving.”
She considers me for a long moment with those steady eyes, and I feel Evie step into place behind me. Vera’s eyes shift to her, then back to me, evaluating us both. Then she steps aside.
I take that as permission and move fast. Everything we need is already packed in our bags, documents, cash, burner phones, and new identities. But when I open the front door, there is another bodyguard there. His large frame is broader than the doorframe by an inch. He looks at my bag, then at Evie, then at Vera, and then at the look on my face.
“Mrs. Rozovsky,” he says. “I can’t let you leave without an escort.”
The name causes me to pause for a moment, but the urgency to move overwhelms the curiosity.
“Move.”
"I can't do that either."
