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“I’m coming for you, Ada.”
No, don’t leave. Don’t leave!
With my heart thumping, I search frantically for a glimpse of him as I’m propelled forward by the surge again.
Where are you, Frankie? Where did you go?
My head is a riot of a thousand questions, but all I need answered is one:
Why didn’t you take me with you?
I stumble in my heels, tripped up by confusion this time, as Adrik reappears by my side. “I told you to keep up,” he says angrily. “Where did you go?”
Heaven. For a few brief seconds, before heaven disappeared again.
“Move faster.”
The cars are waiting in the car park, just as O’Sullivan ordered: a sleek line of SUVs with their doors wide open. Five gaping black holes to ferry us back down to hell.
I’m bowing my head to climb into the first one when I see a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. Whatever it is, it’s approaching us at top speed.
“Get ze fuck down!” Adrik roars, pushing me face-first into the vehicle, my tender knees exploding in agony as they hit the floor, right before the sound of bullets punching metal fills the air.
Crying out in terror, I press my cheek into the leather seats as the noise goes on and on.
“Die, O’Sullivan.Pieprzony gnojek!” You fucking bastard!I hear a voice yell, and then another spray of bullets is fired into the side of our vehicles, destroying the windows and pelting my head and shoulders with flying glass.
There’s a screech of tyres, and then O’Sullivan and his men are returning fire at the escaping vehicle. Shoving me further into the car, Adrik jumps in after me and slams the door as Kirill swings into the passenger seat. Now, they’re shouting at their driver to get movingwhile they’re reloading fresh clips into their weapons.
Through the shattered window, I see the red car spin out of the car park at high speed and into a side street, cutting up a bus and forcing a white van into the incoming traffic. Moments later, I’m being shunted forward as Kirill’s driver slams his foot down on the accelerator and we’re tearing out after him, along with the rest of O’Sullivan’s SUVs.
At first, I’m too dazed to translate what Adrik and Kirill are shouting at each other. I’ve taught myself the rudiments of Russian over the years, but they’re talking too fast for me to understand.
After a minute, I start to recognisesnippets:
“The Polish want a piece of the action.”
“Assassination attempt.”
My stomach flips.“Is he dead?”
I find my answer in Kirill’s mocking smile as the wind comes whipping into the backseat through the holes in the glass. “No,meelaya. Not even a scratch. No need to wear the black just yet for yourpapa.”
A call comes through to his phone.
“Da…Sukin syn!” Son of a bitch!A moment later, I hear the wail of sirens behind us.
“We lost him,” I hear him say to Adrik. “Get off the main roads. We are too public.”
“Tell me Alex is okay,” I plead quietly. “Please, Kirill… I know you said he was here today. Just tell me he wasn’t hurt in what happened.”
But my husband doesn’t give me the courtesy of that answer.
Stupid me for thinking he might.
Turning away, I hunker down into the seat and pull my coral-pink shawl protectively around my shoulders. When I’m confident they can’t see, I open my hand to read Frankie’s note.
It’s more words and music, written in haste on the back of a betting slip that’s smeared with blood and threaded with an old assurance—plus something else that makes my soul ache and my eyes sting.
