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I’ll tell him about Noelle and the Albanians and Benjamin. The thought of that sweet little baby being in danger still makes my chest ache and my eyes sting with tears.
This is for him, too.
I can save Benjamin, Ashley, and Gram without having to worry them. Telling them Noelle is a fraud in bed with an organized crime syndicate and Timofey is…well, a leader of an organized crime syndicate… who wants to kill them wouldn’t change anything right now. It certainly won’t help things no matter which direction this all goes. They can’t hide from him, and Timofey can’t hide who he is from them for much longer..
Especially if he’s literally holding guns to their heads.
The image curdles my stomach, and I blow out a breath. I’m the only one who can stop this.
“Ashley, I-I’m glad things are going well. I have to go, okay?”
“But wait. You just called. What’s going on with—”
I hang up before she can ask the question. Despite what Timofey thinks, lying doesn’t come easily to me.
* * *
I leave the hospital and take a taxi straight to the airport. The driver is a young guy with shaggy blond hair and a wispy goatee. “Are ya picking someone up?”
I blink away from the blur of buildings and people passing by the window. His brown eyes are framed in the rearview mirror. “What?”
“Are you picking someone up?” he repeats. “If you are, I can wait and drive you both wherever you’re going.”
I’m not sure if he’s too young to realize that would be a terrible business decision for him or if he’s trying to hit on me. I don’t need to check my reflection to know I look haggard. My guess is it’s the former.
It also occurs to me: I don’t have any luggage. I forgot that detail in my rush to save lives.
“Thanks, but I’m actually catching a flight.”
“You don’t have any bags, though.” He echoes my thoughts out loud, which is more irritating than it should be.
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “It’s a short trip.”
“Real short if you’re not even taking underwear.” He laughs nervously, and I get the sense he’s as uncomfortable with mentioning my underwear as I am. I decide not to hold it against him.
“Yeah. I’ll buy what I need when I’m there.”
Thank God I set some cash aside from each of my paychecks from Timofey. The irony isn’t lost on me that even when he’s trying to ruin my life and kill my loved ones, he’s still—in his own sick and twisted and manipulative way—taking care of me.
He hums, nodding his head to a nonexistent beat for a while. Then he sits tall and makes eye contact in the mirror again. “Make sure you hold onto your cash and passport.”
“I plan on it.” I’m not sure anyone purposely loses their money and only means of returning home. Ever since I bought the tickets for Gram and Ashley, I moved my passport to my wallet. I wanted to be able to leave at a moment’s notice.
Today, I’m grateful for Past Me’s forward planning.
“Good,” the driver mumbles. “My cousin went to Mexico last summer and lost everything. It was a whole mess. He ended up sleeping on a beach for a few nights after he ran out of money. He came home all bitten up by bugs and stuff. Got an infection.”
“Oh.” I smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“You’re just too pretty to sleep on a beach. Or get an infection.” His eyes widen, and he snorts. “I mean—I just… Be careful.”
When I first climbed into the cab, I had my suspicions about the driver. He was parked directly in front of the hospital, almost as if he was waiting for someone. And when I stepped up to the curb,hewavedmedown.
Did Timofey plant him here? Did he suspect my next move and make sure he was in control of the variables?Timofey is a powerful man, but that seemed like an overreach even for him.
Now, I’m positive this man is not a plant. If he was working for Timofey, he’d know better than to flirt with me.
Suddenly, I’m much more sympathetic to his nerves.
