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A loud beep coincides with a display signal.
“Bingo,” Aleks says. “There it is. The signal is strong. Definitely a fucking tracker. Jesus. You were right, Ollie. Renata, you might be amazing at detecting the truth, but this fucker’s got excellent instincts. Listen to him.”
“Alright, alright. How do I get this fucker out?"
As Aleks instructs, Renata watches me. I brush my free hand across the apple of her cheek. “Are you alright?"
"Never better,” she says with a smile.
“Ollie, are you listening? There should be a small bump just below the surface, probably next to her bicep. Feel for it. It's going to be tender. The tracker will probably be about a centimeter long, just under the skin. Once you see it, you're going to have to slice through her skin and use sterilized tweezers to pull it out. It’s the only way.” He pauses. "Do you want me to come and do this?"
Heat flares across my chest. "No, asshole. If you touch her, I’ll kill you, and we need you.” I’m breathing heavily. She places agentle hand on my arm, and I draw in a breath. “I mean, no, thank you, I’ve got this.”
He chuckles on the other end of the line. “Tell me when you’ve got it.”
"Alright. I’ll get one of our first aid kids, then let’s do this.”
Our first aid kits are not your normal run-of-the-mill bandages and alcohol swabs. We keep every room in this house well stocked.
The room is dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls from moonlight outside the window. But I feel a sense of urgency as I spread out medical supplies on the coffee table and take out the tools that I need.
"Come here,” I tell her, pulling out a desk chair. “Sit on my lap.”
She walks over to me, a bit reserved, but takes a deep breath and sits on my lap. I inhale and gently remove the bandage from her arm, then feel the tender skin like Aleks instructed. She hisses in a breath and grits her teeth but holds still. Wordlessly, I bend and kiss her shoulder.
"I'm sorry it's going to hurt. But I have to make sure it’s there.”
“I know,” she says quietly. "Do it. I want it fuckingout."
My fingers shake a bit and finally brush over a small, hard lump just under his skin, making her wince.
"I think I found it. Jesus,” I say, feeling a wave of nausea at the hard bump under her skin. "Feels weird."
"You got it?” Aleks says on the other side.
“Yeah.”
"Good. Next, take the scalpel. Make sure it's sterilized first. There should be alcohol swaps in the kit."
My hands continue to tremble a little as I rummage through the first aid kit and take out little white squares of gauze and the sharp scalpel.
"Not something you see in everybody's first aid kit, now, is it?” Renata says with a tight laugh. “This is the mobster special edition.”
I snort and shake my head.
While I disinfect the scalpel, she rummages through. “Bandages, gauze, tape, scissors. Pretty standard there." Her eyebrows raise when she pulls out a tourniquet and burn dressings. "Wow. Broad spectrum antibiotics, antiseptic, and a bullet removal kit.Duct tape?” Her eyes meet mine. “Are you guys preparing to go to war?"
“Always.”
I shrug. “I’ve seen a lot. I make sure we’re all well-equipped.”
"Interesting,” she says, reaching her fingers for a small leather pouch. She opens it up. "Do all of the kits have these too?"
She takes out a series of fake IDs, a passport, a portable fingerprint kit, a burner phone, some makeup, and basic prosthetics we could use for a disguise if needed. Colored contact lenses, a lock picking tool, and several massive rolls of $100 bills.
She stifles a little gasp when she finds a small vile of sedatives, cyanide capsules, and even a tranquilizer gun. "Holyshit, Ollie. What else do you have in here? This is not just a first aid kit. Thisis a survival kit. We could be bombed, attacked, and still manage to get into every country in the world.”
I shrug. “What can I say? Always be prepared.”
