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It rang and rang, and was then cut off.
His next call died immediately, and he imagined whoever owned the phone was now removing the sim card and crushing it beneath his jackboot.
What. An. Idiot.
Now he stood at the window of the tiny one-bedroom flat overlooking the south harbor of Helsinki, where a massive cruise ship had docked, surrounded by smaller ships, a few sailboats, their hulls gilded against the rising sun. He wanted to put his fist through it, but that wouldn’t help anyone. Instead, he leaned his head against the pane. “I can’t believe I didn’t answer her call—twice!”
“Bro, you’re lucky you saw it. Don’t you have all your unknown calls set to spam?” Behind him, Fraser sat at a small table, nursing his thirty-fifth cup of coffee, the smell of the instant brew biting in the tiny flat.
“Given the current MO of Shae calling me from unknown numbers, that’s a practice I’m going to stop. Hello, car warranty people and vacation rental spammers, have at me.”
A chuckle, and Ned rounded and looked at the man sitting on the blue foldout futon—a man who still bore the mark of Ned’s charge in the scrape across his chin.
Yeah, well, he should have identified himself better than justRoy. Should have elaborated that he was one of Logan Thorne’s men, the one who’d been watching Hansi’s house. Because a mere “Stop!” wasn’t exactly going to slow Ned down.
He’d tackled Roy going full speed, and yes, Roy was a big man and had managed to stay on his feet, but not before being slammed against a building, his face scrubbing against the brick.
Ned had to give him props. Roy had bounced back fast, spun and tackled Ned before he did something stupid like run out into the street where the Helsinki police were parked.
Apparently, a neighbor had seen the American duo sneak in—probably some kid up late gaming—and alerted the cops. And now Helsinki’s finest had questions about a dead body that Ned and Fraser couldn’t answer.
So they’d instead opted to hole up in one of the Caleb Group’s safe houses, or maybe just an Airbnb that Roy had rented. Whatever. It got them off the streets and gave them a second to breathe and figure out who might have killed Hansi.
And maybe get some shut-eye—an attempt he’d made and failed in the one bedroom, with Fraser taking up more than his portion of the tiny bed.
So he’d been prowling when her call came in. Swiped it away. Then again. And the third time…
Russia? She was in Russia? What was she doingthere?
“Can’t you track the call or something?” he said now to Roy.
“We’re trying, Ned. We have Coco trying to get the information on the call. From there, she might be able to track it, but the likelihood of getting an exact location, especially from Russia…” Roy shook his head. “But I’ve got an idea.”
Ned turned, glanced at the man. Tall, solid, the man had gone from Navy SEAL to rogue undercover Caleb Group agent after an op that went wrong in Afghanistan—or at least, that had been Fraser’s abbreviated explanation on their way to the safe house.
“I have a friend who has connections to Russia—I’ll see if he can root around and get some information.” Roy was texting as he spoke.
“That’s going to take days,” Ned said. “We don’t have that kind of time.” He looked at Fraser. “Shescreamed.Shae is not a screamer.”
Fraser just lifted a shoulder, then he leaned his chair back on two legs and scrubbed his hands down his face. “Ned. What I know—and remember—about your girlfriend—”
“Fiancée—”
He held up a hand. “—fiancée, is that she’s smart. Really smart. Didn’t she run from some killer and hide for five years?”
“Yes, but…” He took a breath. “Why Russia?”
Roy had pinched his mouth tight. Looked away.
“What?”
“According to our research, Hansi was involved with a number of human trafficking groups—one of them the Petrov Bratva.”
Ned stilled. “Wait. Those were the same guys we picked up in Slovenia, deploying a dirty bomb.”
Roy considered him. “I was briefed just a couple days ago on that. You met Ziggy, one of our contacts.”
Ned nodded. “She helped us track down the bomb, and Jonas, my brother, was weirdly involved—anyway, do you think that…I mean, there’s no connection tome, is there?”
