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“You’re trying to follow that car, right? That intersection up there leads to the highway, but there are four lights between here and there. If we take the access road off to the left up here, we can shave off the time it took to get into the car.” She spoke matter-of-factly, her voice almost toneless as she craned her neck to check the cars ahead.
I didn’t pause in taking that left then, nor did I voice my being impressed by her quick thinking.These were to be discussed later. Later, should she be right and should we make it out of the car chase uninjured.
I flipped between the gears easily as we exited the access ramp onto the highway, my eyes scanning the vehicles already cueing at the intersection.
“They were in a Maserati Quattroporte, right?” Manya asked, drawing my eyes back to her once more. She pointed ahead, focused on one of the cars I hadn’t gotten to yet—the exact car I had been looking for.
“Da,” I grunted, not pausing to ask how she knew the make and model so well. Maybe she liked cars.
“How do you figure they won’t spot us?” she worried aloud, her inky eyes moving between me and the vehicle I was now tailing from two cars behind. “Shouldn’t you be further back?”
“You watch a lot of TV?” I muttered, again biting back my irritation as I dropped another car behind. “I’m not worried about it; did you see this car? It’s a Lincoln. Who would expect a Lincoln to belong to one of my father’s men?” I snorted, shaking my head slightly and waiting to take the same exit the car had taken so as not to appear too eager. “They’re heading into Lebev’s territory. . .”
Our conversation was stilted, fraught with the tension of the situation and my unfamiliarity with conversing while on a job with her. It didn’t help that rage still bubbled in my veins like boiling water, fueling both my movements and my tone.
“Lebev’s territory?” she parroted, lifting her eyes in question again as we turned off into a residential neighborhood.
“He’s sovietnik for Pakhan Luca,” I muttered, my eyebrows furrowing further as I turned into the street the Maserati had disappeared down. Sure enough, at the end of the street, in front of a house I recognized all too well, the Maserati sat, empty.
I pulled up four houses behind it, staring at it for too long of a second. Manya allowed me a moment to observe in silence, and then I turned off the idling engine, pocketed the keys, and leaned across the console between us. “You stay in the car, da? Don’t poke your nose out. Don’t ignore this direction.” My eyes searched hers with the command, looking for even the faintest trace of disagreement.
Instead, she just nodded, her eyes overly serious. Their black depths spun, like water through a sieve, and I found myself leaning in further to press my lips once to hers before pulling back, exiting the car and heading towards the expansive, green door that I had only stepped through once before.
