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“I’ve been thinking about it. You have the look of a fed. I know you say you aren’t. And maybe you’re not. But I made a promise a few years ago. A promise I intend to keep.”
Cora tensed. She frowned at him. “Hang on, keep your hands where I can see them.”
One of his hands had disappeared down the side of the chair. And he didn’t pull it free. He just kept watching her, grinning slowly now. The look of a man who had decided that he held all the cards.
“There’s a guy who works for Warbucks. He’s like you.”
“Hands. Now!”
“Except, he likes playing with his food. I’ve seen some of his work. It’s not pretty.”
Cora’s teeth were pressed tightly together. Her gun was pointed at the man’s head.
And then he said quietly, “I promised to never spend another day behind bars. And I intend to keep that promise. Besides, it makes me happy.”
She knew he was waiting for her to askwhat makes you happy. She didn’t. But he answered the question anyway, “The idea that I might cause you some pain. I’m your ticket out of here, yes?”
She suddenly moved forward, fast.
But he was already saying, “I’m afraid this train has left the station.” And then he ripped the gun from the side of the chair.
She threw herself to the side. His first shot missed her, but the second shot wasn’t meant for her. The gun met his neck. The man seemed to have decided that he couldn’t beat her. At least he had a good gauge of character; his words now hung ominous. He refused to return to prison.
And suddenly he made sure of that. A squeeze of the trigger. His head shot back, and he fell out of the chair. He landed amidst some of the glass from the television he had been watching. Dead. And like that, Cora lost her ticket.
Her mind was reeling. Warbucks? The mayor’s brother? A super cartel?
And what had he meant about a killer like her on staff?
Was that the person who had killed Janice?
She could feel a prickle along her skin. She didn’t want to shoot her way out.
She wasn’t sure what to do.
And so, she reached a conclusion. She grabbed the shirt off one of the guards she had shot and flung it over the gunshot head of the mobster. She hid his face, as if under a hood. There wasn’t much face left.
And then she slipped her arm behind him. She groaned in exertion as she tried to lift the small, stocky man. She began to move, hastening towards the door.
She stumbled, wincing. He was too heavy.
Gasping, she leaned against the door, staring at where the dead man lay on the ground.
This was not a very pleasant business trip.
Again, she considered her options. And then, she shouted, “If you come in here, I’m going to kill him!”
Good enough. She pulled her phone from her pocket and instantly placed a call.
After the second ring, he answered.
“Hang on, Saul, don’t hang up. I have something for you. No, I’m serious. This time I’m giving you a gift. Do you want to know where Alex Karpov is?” She winced. “Well, at least where his body is?” She said with a whisper.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was far easier, in her opinion, to avoid the FBI than a room full of gun thugs.
All she had to do was play up the lost little girl routine. Plus, it helped that she had a friend.
