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“You didn’t use the code word, Milla,” he said patiently. “I was listening for it, and you never said it. The guys were ready to storm in, if you’d needed them, but he wasn’t attacking you. If we’d intervened, Zhoglo would know for sure that you’d double-crossed him, which would mean going into hiding right now. Taking a new identity. Starting a new life. You didn’t want that, right?”
Milla responded with a foul explosion of profanity, which Nick listened to with half an ear as he watched Pavel, making sure the guy pulled no funny stuff. But he did not. He left the way he came, getting into the gleaming black Beemer, which was now equipped with a discreetly hidden SafeGuard GPS tracking beacon. The car weaved around in the parking garage, narrowly missing some of the other parked cars. Maybe the guy was still drunk, or sick.
Marcus was ready in another car, and moved to tail Pavel with a handheld. He pulled out smoothly after him, staying a couple of cars back.
So damn easy. Too damn easy. His neck prickled, itched. He was glad that Milla hadn’t gotten hurt, but it seemed strange that Pavel hadn’t thought to blame her at all.
When he looked back at Milla, she was holding the phone between her ear and shoulder, rifling through the wads of cash. She stuffed them into an oversized white purse that lay on the table.
“How much did he give you?” he asked.
“None of your damn business.”
“Everything about Zhoglo is my business,” he said harshly. “Keep the fucking money, Milla, I don’t give a shit about it. I just want to know how much it was.”
“Thirty thousand,” she said sullenly. “An advance. More later.”
He whistled softly as he watched the icon that symbolized Pavel’s car move across the city map glowing on the computer monitor. “It’s a trap,” he said quietly.
She snorted. “Pah. Life is a trap,” she said shortly. “All a woman can hope for is to make some decent money before the trap springs.”
“Don’t send him any girls, Milla,” he said. “Don’t do it.”
“He just gave me thirty thousand dollars, fool,” she snapped. “And don’t you want to know where those girls go? Tomorrow he sends me an address for them, hmm? You interested in that address?”
“Of course I am,” he said. “But you know how he operates. You send him a girl, he’s liable to send you back her head in a box, via bike messenger. I suggest you take that money and run like hell. Today.”
Milla’s painted face sagged, looking oddly haggard in contrast to her surprisingly youthful, voluptuous body.
“Take that new identity,” he urged her. “Take it now. Get the fuck out of town. It’s weird that Pavel didn’t even ask you any questions about having proposed me for the job. And now this contract, and all this money—it stinks.”
She let out an explosive breath. “Stinks? Yes. It all stinks. You stink, Nikolai. New identity, pah! As what? Housecleaner? Hotel maid? Home health aide? You think I want to empty bedpans, wipe dribbling mouths for the rest of my life? That is what stinks!”
“Milla. Goddamn it,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I’m doing my best. I cannot protect your life and your lifestyle at the same time.”
“Fuck your best,” she hissed. “I would rather eat poison.”
She hung up and flounced away, robe fluttering behind her.
Nick dropped his throbbing head into his hands, and rubbed his temples. Dealing with women was way too fucking complicated for him.
Except for Becca. A deep thrill of constant anticipation had hummed in the back of his consciousness all day long. Something inside him bounced madly around like a ball in a pinball machine every time he thought about her. Which was pretty much all the time.
God, he wished he could get away from this to go play with Becca for a couple hours, but he had a feeling that fantasy wasn’t going to play out. Not since Pavel made his move.
The frustration made him grind his teeth. Davy was right. He had it bad. Zhoglo was rolling out the red carpet for him, and he was feeling sorry for himself because he couldn’t keep a hot date.
At any rate, he was glad he’d gotten the hotel room. She was safer there, checked in under his false name, than she was in her apartment. Even if she had to sleep there alone. Fucking waste. Big bummer.
“Uh, Nick? I don’t want to flip you out, buddy, but didn’t you say your girlfriend was working till midnight?
Nick jerked around at Davy’s voice. “Yeah. Why?”
Davy gestured towards the monitor of the computer where he’d loaded Becca’s beacon code. “Uh, looks to me like she’s leaving town. Heading north on the interstate.” His voice was delicately cautious.
“What thefuck—?” The chair Nick had been sitting in shot backwards and crashed into the table behind him when he sprang up to lunge at that monitor.
Holy shit. She was north of Lynwood, moving at a brisk clip. At 9:40 PM. He grabbed his cell, pulled up her number.
