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“Everyone has a past.”
“None that I can find and you know I can find anything.”
Walking into the motel office, I tried not to cringe at my surroundings. The place smelled awful. The putrid stench was making my stomach queasy. The place was filthy. Trash and rotted food containers littered the desk.
“We’re filled up,” a grumpy voice said, from behind the desk.
Carefully walking closer, I laid eyes on an old man, chewing on a straw as he watched some black and white television with antenna ears held together by aluminum foil.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for someone.”
“Ain’t no one here,”
“A woman, about my age. Black hair with silver tips. Has tattoos running up and down her arms.”
“She ain’t here.”
“So she’s been here?”
“Said she ain’t here.”
“Do you know where she might be?”
“Try the old dirt track. Around twenty-five miles north. If she ain’t there, she’s gone.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, grabbing Sypher’s wrist as I hurried out of the place.
It was a quiet drive as Sypher continued to look for information in the journal, scouring every page as to the identity of the mole or what Petrovitch’s end game was. That journal was my only clue. I knew the answers were in there. Sypher just needed to figure out the clues the mole had left. I wanted this over with. I wanted my life back, and that wasn’t going to happen as long as Petrovitch lived. I knew Maxim would never tell me anything. He was bound by some damn code that prevented him from saying anything. My brothers were no better. They would do everything they could to keep me from learning the truth.
Even Montana would keep his trap shut.
They may have given me a seat at the table, but in their eyes, I was still a woman. I knew that going in. In their eyes, I would never be a major player. I would never hold a seat of power. Women were around for one thing and one thing only. To solidify a man’s bloodline.
“Turn off up ahead,” Sypher said, looking up from his computer. “The dirt track should be... oh crap!”
Looking at where he was pointing, I slowed the car to a stop as Silver stood in the middle of the road, legs a few inches apart, as she pointed a gun directly at us.
Turning off the engine, I whispered, “Let me handle this.”
“Okay,” Sypher muttered, his eyes glued to Silver.
Reaching for the journal, I got out of the car as a hot, southerly wind whipped around me, suffocating me. The air was thick with heat, making it hard to breathe. Cautiously walking forward, I heard her say, “You shouldn’t be here, Illyria. He’s looking for you, too.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
“You stupid bitch,” Silver sighed, dropping her gun. “You are going to get both of us killed. You know that, right? Why do you think I left the only home I ever loved? I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I left to protect them.”
“Why does Petrovitch want you?”
Walking away, I followed Silver into a small guard shack near the entrance of the dirt track. The place looked abandoned, as if no one had used it in years. The place was small. No bigger than a shoebox. Sitting on the small cot, Silver sighed. “Does he know you are here?”
“Who?” I asked, grabbing a small wooden stool to sit.
“Montana? Malice? Your man. Take your pick.”
“No. None of them know. In fact, none of them know where I am. I left the city last week and haven’t returned.”
Silver looked at the door and muttered, “I wouldn’t if I were you. He’s looking for you. He knows everything. If he finds you, he will kill you.”
