Page 8 of Donovan Blake: Adrenalin

“I always do, but we must keep our meeting.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“As you say over here, needs must. Goodbye, Donovan.”

The line went dead.

Leaning back in his chair, Donovan pictured the stone-faced, ruthless Russian. The man had become a target. It was the last thing Donovan needed—or had seen coming.

Franco Giancana, a rising Italian mob boss, was trying to muscle his way into Boris Federov’s territory. When Boris asked Donovan to negotiate a peace, Donovan felt he had to agree. Now Franco had double-crossed him.

Taking a second drink and trying to ignore his aches and pains, Donovan picked up another phone and placed a call.

“Donovan! I’ve been worried!”

“I’m okay, Sam, but Franco ambushed me.”

“Fuck. I knew you should have said no when Boris asked you to step in. Next time—if there is one—come up with some excuse. It’s too damn dangerous.”

“But now we know for sure he wants Boris out of the picture.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure it was worth it. How badly are you hurt?”

“I didn’t say anything about being hurt.”

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

“Good point,” Donovan grunted. “I’ve got some bumps and bruises. I thought they’d broken my nose, but apparently not.”

“You’re not telling me everything. Come on, Donovan. Out with it.”

“A nurse saved my ass. She was driving through the back street while Franco’s goons were trying to kill me. They planned on making it look like a mugging gone bad.”

“Jesus. You are one lucky sonofabitch. Who is she and where is she?”

“She took me to her condo.”

“This just gets better and better,” Sam said sarcastically.

“Then I realized they’d probably followed her. And I was right. We got out of there just in time and we’re at my lodge.”

“Who is she?”

“A civilian. But, yeah, you’d better check her out. Her name’s Phoebe Beaumont. She works in the trauma ward at a nearby hospital. I don’t know the name of it but it must be close to where she lives.”

“Address?”

“Uh…I don’t know the street address, but it’s a condo complex called Piccadilly Place. It was about a fifteen minute drive from the Winchester Hotel where I met those goons. I can’t tell which direction though.”

“We’ll find it, no problem. So what’s your plan? How the hell will you stay out of Franco’s crosshairs? Dammit…maybe we should just get you out.”

“No, Sam, we’re too close. Boris still wants to meet.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“I don’t know how wise it is, but we’re so close to nailing him we can’t bail out now. I’m sure he’ll take me to his collection at some point. Then we’ll have him along with everything he’s managed to buy or steal.”

“Okay, Donovan, but if this happens again, you’re out.”

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