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Some of the faces are new, but as I make my way towards the back of the abandoned garage, I see who I’m looking for huddled over an old oil can full of wood that burns to give him some heat, despite it not really being that cold. He glances up suspiciously, and I smile. “Gracie, is that you?” he asks, squinting.
I nod. “Hey, Mike, great to see you.”
“You scrub up well,” he says, winking. “I wondered what happened to you when you stopped hanging around here.”
“I need a passport,” I explain, wanting to avoid any conversations about Danny.
“You planning on leaving the country?”
I give a sad smile. “Something like that.”
“It’s not cheap,” he says, stuffing his dirty hands in his pockets. “But I can give you a name.”
“The thing is, it has to be discreet. People are looking for me . . . bad people.”
“Darlin’, I can get you a name, but what they do with your information is out of my control. These men will do anything for money. Give them a false name and buy a damn wig. That’s the best you can do.”
I watch the house from across the street. The name led me to this address, and I can’t help the nerves. This is out of my comfort zone completely. Danny was the one who knew contacts for everything.God, I miss him.
I take a deep breath and head across the street, knocking on the door. A man pulls it open and eyes me suspiciously. “What?”
“I called about a passport.”
He nods, glancing out into the street nervously before opening the door wider for me to go inside. I follow him to a room with a computer. There’s a machine connected to it and a stack of passports on the side. “Cash,” he mutters, taking a seat. I pull out two thousand and place it on his desk. He snatches it up and flicks through it. “Name?”
“Lara,” I reply. “Lara Morozov.” Ivan wouldn’t think of searching for this name. Not now he has his answers.
I wait patiently while the guy taps away. “Picture,” he mutters, nodding to a camera set up in the corner.
I nod, removing my cap and shaking out the blonde wig I purchased. He snaps my picture, and it uploads to his computer. “What happens to that now?” I ask. “I mean the picture.”
He shrugs. “You on the run or something?” I nod. “I can delete it,” he says, pressing a button to remove it from his camera, and I relax a little.
He fiddles with the machine and, minutes later, hands me a fresh passport. I open it and smile. “It looks good.”
“You pay the best money for the best goods.”
IVAN
I press the mobile to my ear. “We’ve found the car,” says Alek. “It’s on Rider Street, abandoned. No sign of her or the keys.”
“Okay, watch from a distance. She might return to it.”
“I doubt it, boss. There are two parking tickets on the screen.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Ask around the area. Someone must have seen her. I’ll be there soon.”
I stare up at The Lodge Hotel. The place where it all began, and the place I know she would have returned to because she had a contact here who helped her.
I’ve spent the last three days upgrading my security, hiring new men, and getting rid of anyone who I thought might have been following Maxim. As I stride into the hotel with my men flanking me, I feel powerful. All I need now is Grace by my side.
The older-looking man at the desk smiles as I take in his name badge. Lenard. That’s her contact. I remember the way she smiled when she told me his name, Lenny. She’s fond of him. “Good evening. A room?”
“No. I’m looking for someone,” I say. “Grace Parker.”
He glances towards the lift, suddenly on edge. “I don’t recognise the name, and I can’t give out guest’s details.”
Alek steps forward and slides cash across the desk. “Of course, you can, old man. Just do as you’re told, and everyone can stay relaxed.”
