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“Ann,” I lie.
“This is Ann. She was trying to reach for a T-shirt and fell on me, and see, her parents are dead, and, well, that’s not why she fell, but it’s still sad, and she cried because she’s short. Well, she didn’t cry because she’s short, but…shit. Ann, you tell her. Ann? Ann?”
I can hear him calling me, but I’m already halfway down the Boardwalk. While he babbled, I inched my ass toward the door and took off. I had no intentions of sticking around when Jason and Nancy found out I robbed them blind.
I’m out of breath and have no idea where I am, but I do know it’s close to noon because the brutal sun is almost completely overhead now.
God, I’m hot.
Common sense would tell me to ditch Niko’s jacket, but I can’t. I haven’t let myself wonder if he made it out of that fire until now, but the possibility that he didn’t twists my stomach in a knot so hard, I’d throw up if I’d eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours. If it’s the last thing I have left of him, I won’t let it go.
But I’m too hot to keep it on, so I unzip it and tie it around my waist.
My first instinct is to veer off onto a side street and call Ethan, but that’s the first place the police will look for me. As the saying goes, the best place to hide is in plain sight. Instead, I settle into a corner booth of a crowded bar and pull the tourist’s phone from my pocket. It’s not even password locked.
“Jason, you dumbass.”
My stomach feels like it’s devouring itself, so since I’ve recently come into some money, I flag down a waitress and place an order. Returning quickly with a frosted beer mug, she offers a pleasant smile that I don’t return.
I’m not being a bitch, there’s just nothing pleasant about what I have to do.
Taking a sip of my beer, I let the cool liquid coat my dry throat as I punch in the number I know by heart. I’m not shocked when Ethan doesn’t answer. He’s an FBI agent. Why the hell would he answer a random line based in Alabama? So, I text him instead. Three simple letters that I have no doubt will get his attention.
AVA.
Not even ten seconds after I hit send, the phone rings. I nod and smile at the waitress as she sets a plate of nachos in front of me. “It’s about time.”
“Where the hell are you, Ava? Where the hell have you been? Who the hell’s phone are you calling from?”
“So many questions,” I say, crunching on a chip as a glob of cheese slides off and back onto the plate.
“The whole department has been looking for you!”
“Well, I’m fine, but I can’t talk right now. The only thing I can tell you is that I’m in an Irish Pub called Mickey Byrne’s on the Hollywood Beach Boardwalk. If you leave now, you’ll be here by the time I finish my nachos.”
“Fuck, Ava, you’ve been missing for almost a week. Look, Dmitry called me a few minutes ago and told me everything. I know you’re still with Gaheris.”
The chip in my mouth suddenly tastes like cardboard, and I have to take a huge gulp of beer just to get it down. “Dmitry called you?”
“Yes. You’re in danger, Ava. I need to get you into protective custody now.”
“Then come and get me, Ethan,” I reiterate, scooping up the pile of cheese with my finger and licking it off. “And I’ll hand you Sergei’s killer.”
Disconnecting the call, I motion for the waitress to bring me another beer then stare at the screen. Finally, I clear my throat and dial one last number. It rings and rings and rings, and just when I’m about to hang up, there’s a click followed by complete silence.
“This is Ava Chernova, but you already knew that, didn’t you? Don’t bother answering. That was a rhetorical question, and I’m sure neither of us have time for idle chit-chat. I’m calling because I have a business proposition for you…”
