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Or two, Viktor lied to me.
“Eduard,” I snapped into the phone the second he picked up. “Meet me at the fountain as soon as you can.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Not on the phone. Just be there.” I hung up and threw the phone on the dash.
“Who was that?” Roan asked. He didn’t sound mad, like I’d been when I heard the old woman discussing some boy with eyeliner. Eyeliner? What kind of a man wore eyeliner?
“A friend,” I replied, tamping down the desire to drive to the flower shop and see this boy with eyeliner for myself. It would have to wait — at least until I got my current issue squared away.
“You’re really freaked, huh?”
“You have no idea who Sergei Sidorov is, what he can do. You think I’m not a good person?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “With one phone call, he can have your entire family eliminated. Just like that.” I snapped my fingers right under his nose.
“So why would your boss want to mess with this guy?”
“That is what I am going to find out.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence. As soon as I put the car in park, Roan undid his seat belt.
“No,” I said, grabbing the belt and shoving the clip back in. “You stay here.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Ignoring him, I leaned across his lap and opened the glove box. I snagged the pistol inside and pulled the slide back a bit, making sure there was a bullet in the chamber.
“What are you doing?” Roan asked, pushing back into his seat, eyes wide.
Holding the gun by the barrel, I held it out to him so he could take the grip. “Take this.”
“What? No.”
I grabbed his hand and slapped it against the grip, forcibly curling his fingers around it. “If anyone but me comes to the car, shoot them.”
“Sasha!”
“You have fifteen rounds. There’s no safety. Just pull the trigger.” I squeezed his hand briefly and got out of the car.
Throwing a glance over my shoulder every so often, I cut through Grant Park, headed toward Buckingham Fountain. Lighting a cigarette along the way, I tried to look unhurried, like I hadn’t just stumbled across a little electronic death sentence.
I spied Eduard in the distance, smoking his own cigarette. His hand was shoved in his coat pocket, despite the warm evening temperature. Tugging up the back of my t-shirt nonchalantly, I tucked the fabric behind my pistol, giving me easier access to the grip.
“Sasha,” Eduard said, exhaling a stream of smoke as I approached. “What the fuck is going on?”
“When’s the last time you talked to Viktor?” I asked as I stepped in closer, keeping my gaze moving between his face, his hands, and the people walking near us.
He shrugged, taking another puff. “Whenever I got off the phone with you? So, what? Couple hours ago?”
“What, exactly, do you know about the box?”
He made a face and shrugged again. “Nothing. You think Viktor would tellmeanything? All I know, I got from Igor, same as you.”
“Does Yuri know?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Get him on the phone.”
