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"We shall talk again, when I consider what we need. In the meantime, please accept this as a gift from me to you."
He removed a different rifle and scope from the crate, slipping them into a carrying case, and then handed it to me. I accepted. You don't question when a mobster gives you a gift – that much I knew.
I nodded and followed him back to the main entrance where one of his guards stood waiting.
"And now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to. We'll be in touch about the contracts and anything I need from you."
"Thanks for this," I said and held up the rifle bag.
"My pleasure," he said and waved a hand dismissively.
Then he turned and went back to his office.
I went to the front door and the guard opened it for me. Outside, my SUV stood at the ready, the engine idling. These Russians were on top of things. They'd no doubt checked every inch of my vehicle and probably planted a listening device or GPS tracking device somewhere. I'd have to check it out when I got back to the gym, use one of George's little sniffers to find them. I'd probably leave them in so Sergei could think he was tracking me. I could disable them, but I wanted to keep in Sergei's good graces.
He'd know I'd check for bugs, if I was even the least bit competent. How I handled it would tell him what he needed to know. I'd disable the bugs and then re-enable them, so he knew I was aware of them, but accepted them as part of doing business with him. I just wouldn't use that vehicle anymore for anything I didn’t want Sergei to know.
It was a game of chess, this working with the FBI to get in deep with the Russian mob. Luckily, I was a natural at the game. But I couldn’t afford to be too proud – as they say, pride goeth before a fall.
And I didn’t plan on falling.
Chapter 2
Celia
Present Day
We arrived at my mother's house. There were already satellite vehicles outside on the street, and several reporters standing together talking.
"What do I do?" I asked as we pulled up. "I don't want to talk to them."
"Let me escort you," James said from the front of the SUV. "I'll keep them from talking to you."
"My mother must be okay if they released Spencer's name," I said, hoping that my mother had somehow forgot to call me when the police contacted her about Spencer's body being found. But how could she forget? How could she not think of calling me right away as soon as she knew Spencer was dead?
James got out and opened the door to let Amy and me out, then he led us up the driveway to the house. A reporter must have recognized me – he came up to us, sticking his microphone into my face.
"Celia Parker? Can you tell us what you know about your stepfather's death?"
I turned away, and James stepped between me and the reporter. "Ms. Parker's not taking any questions. Please respect her privacy at this sensitive time."
We made it to the door without any other reporters arriving. I tried the door but it was locked. I entered the security code on the pad and the door opened, admitting us into the entrance.
Inside, two uniformed police officers sat in the living room with my mother. She was dressed in a robe and slippers – her usual garb – and looked haggard, her hair a mess, her skin grey.
"Mom," I cried out and ran to her. I sat on the sofa beside her, my arm around her shoulder. "Why didn’t you call?"
"I tried," she said, her voice tired. "It said the cellular customer was out of range or something."
Then I realized she must have used my old cell. I was using a new one since I met Hunter.
"Tell me what happened," I said, turning to the two police officers.
"We're waiting for detectives to arrive," one of the cops said. "I'm Constable Roberts. This is Constable Franks. We came by to notify your mother of your stepfather's death and she asked us to stay until the detectives came by. They should be here soon."
I nodded. "You can leave us now, if you want. My friend and I will stay with my mother."
Roberts nodded and the two police officers stood and left us alone.
