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“I didn’t go that far. Just down by the walkway with all the baby’s breath on the sides. It’s really pretty down there.” I know the game she’s playing, and I can play it just as well. “So what did Dima want?”
She doesn’t give anything away. She doesn’t even flinch. Even her shoulders are relaxed. “Just following a lead about your sister. He thinks he might have some new information that could be helpful.”
“Have you found her?” I feign anxiety and hope.
“No, not yet. But we will. It might take a few days, though.”
“And what about Dad?”
“We’re doing our best, Taylor. Just sit tight, okay? Sometimes, these things take longer than we expect.” Then she turns to the door. “I’m stepping out for a bit, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’m sure you will,” I say with a harsh laugh. “It’s not like I can go anywhere.”
She leaves, and I watch as the door clicks shut. I count to fifty, then slip back outside into the broad hallway. It’s open enough that it wouldn’t be hard to spot me from the staircase, but I inch closer anyway. I’m counting on the fact that everyone’s going to be too focused on the mission to pay attention to anything else.
I manage to get all the way downstairs before I hear voices approaching. I glance around and hide behind the first door I find. Turns out to be a bar of sorts—leatherbound stools, a luxuriously long counter, shelves upon shelves of opaque glass bottles, and everything an insanely wealthy crime boss could want in his personal liquor stash.
I keep the door ajar so I can see what’s happening on the outside. Through the crack, I catch sight of Dima. He’s changed clothes into tight-fitting, all-black tactical gear. Two holsters hang from his hips, a pistol handle oiled and gleaming in each of them.
Ilarion joins him a moment later. They exchange what look like small walkie-talkies. Static crackles as they test the channels. The two men exchange a few muttered words and then stomp outside to the driveway.
Seconds later, Mila skirts past my line of vision. She stops at the entrance and looks back over her shoulder. “Disen?” she says to someone I can’t see.
“We’re just loading up the last of the Hummers,” says a man with a raspy voice and a thick mop of dirty blond hair. “We should be able to leave in three.”
The panic is making me miss things, so I bite down on my tongue until the pain washes out all the extra noise. I have to do this. Fear be damned.
“Tell Ilarion and Dima to move out,” Mila orders. “We’ll catch up to them on the road.”
I push the door open a little bit more and watch as Disen goes outside. Mila is polishing her gun against the leg of her jeans. When she’s done, she reaches around back and pushes it into a holster positioned over her rear.
Perfect.
The hard part is going to be sneaking up on her before she notices.
She leans against the threshold of the doorway. When her back is all I can see, I decide it’s now or never. And if one of her men or one of the maids decide to make an appearance in the next ten seconds, I’m screwed.
But for once, I choose not to think about all the things that could go wrong. I choose to focus on things going my way for a change.
I tell myself I can do this, and the more I repeat it, the easier it is to believe. There’s a thin line between confidence and delusion.
The commotion of tires and clacking guns outside masks my footsteps and labored breathing as I inch closer.
And closer.
And closer.
Mila is three steps away, then two, then one. Then she’s within reach. I take a big inhale…
Then I make my move.
41
TAYLOR
By the time Mila has whipped around, I’m aiming her own gun directly in her face. She’s surprised, but even now, she isn’t afraid. I’ll have to ask her how she does that—once this is all over, of course.
“What are you doing, Taylor?” she asks calmly.
