Page 55 of Run

Nineteen

Vincent

“Did you get anything useful?” Sergei asked.

“No, it’s as I thought. They heard I was behind what happened to Gage, wanted a little payback.”

“Acting alone?” he asked.

I nodded. “The old man wasn’t involved.”

“I’ll have a conversation with him anyway,” he said.

I pulled off my sweat-soaked T-shirt and then washed my hands. “That will be useful. What about the cop that was poking around Gia?”

“Adrian’s on her,” Sergei said.

“Good,” I said.

Maxim trusted Adrian about as much as he trusted anyone, and from what I’d seen, Adrian did excellent work. He’d take care of it.

“You’ve had a long day. I can finish up here,” Sergei said.

“Is Gia still at your place?”

“Yeah. You can take the car if you’d like,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said and then I walked to the car and drove off.

I was in a somewhat thoughtful mood, which was uncommon for me. Emotion about what I did had long ago left me, so I knew this newfound wariness was because of Giovanna.

I’d always wanted to protect her from this side of my life, and twice I’d failed. She hadn’t said anything, but I’d known she was leaving. And I’d wanted her to go with a good feeling, not one that confirmed that what she thought about me was true.

I’d fucked that up.

She probably thought I was no better than her father, that Sergei was no better than him.

I knew she wouldn’t trust my word on it. I could try to tell her how different things were, but it would be a waste of breath. Because despite what I said, she’d seen how easily I’d taken care of the threat, how emotionless I’d been doing it. I knew she’d interpret that as carelessness, brutality, and my words wouldn’t convince her.

So this was how it was going to end. A painful yet beautiful night marred by violence and intrusion.

The story of our lives.

I drove through the checkpoint that lead to Sergei and Daniela’s house, the hopeful morning sun such a contrast to what I was feeling. When I knocked, Daniela opened the door almost instantly.

“Did she leave?” I asked without preamble.

The words came out in a rushed tumble, forced out by the realization that she might have left again, just as I realized how much that awareness she would leave again hurt me.

“Come in,” Daniela whispered. Then she looked toward the staircase. “She’s upstairs, sleeping.”

“Oh,” I said.

Then I went quiet, not sure what else to say. I had known Daniela for as long as I’d known Giovanna, long enough that it felt like my entire life, but there had never been that level of comfort between us. Still, over the last couple of years, we’d reached a tentative peace, one that I hoped might even grow to friendship one day.

“Want to have a seat?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I should go,” I said.

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