Page 62 of Sexting the Silverfox

They cuff the guy and keep him standing outside the SUV while the ATF agent asks him questions. I can’t hear everything on account of all the commotion unfolding around me, but I do get enough bits and pieces to figure out what happened.

“Abramovic bought them off,” the disheveled bouncer says. “The guys discussed it and decided to take his money. They offered me money, but I didn’t want it.”

“But you had to take it,” the agent replies, playing the sympathy card. “Otherwise, they would’ve killed you. They couldn’t risk a rat, right?”

“Da,” the guy says. “I had to take it. But I wanted no part in what they were planning.”

“I need a gurney,” a paramedic shouts from the crowd.

Tape tears somewhere to my left.

Reporters are clamoring closer, the beat cops no longer able to effectively hold them back, but ATF backup comes in—broad-shouldered gentlemen with the authority and the ability to push the media farther away from the front of the hotel.

“Old man Grigori will kill me,” the bouncer squirms as they shove him in the back of a van.

“You’ll be fine,” the ATF agent tells him.

He’ll go into protective custody, most likely. They’ll cut the guy a deal if he talks, which means a shit show is about to hit Grigori’s doorstep. But if Audrey was taken, I doubt the bastard even cares about what’s happening at the hotel right now. I need to find him.

My phone rings. It’s Rita. A perfectly efficient distraction. “What’s up, Rita?” I ask as I make my way back behind the yellow tape and lose myself in the crowd.

“You need to come home now.”

“I thought you and Lily left this morning,” I reply, a knot quick to form in the back of my throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Now.” She hangs up.

My senses expand as fear grips me tightly, its claws digging deep into my flesh.

Chapter 25

Jason

Imanage to drive home in record time, practically jumping out of the car and flying up the stairs until I reach my apartment. The door is unlocked, and the silence is deafening. I stop in the hallway and look around, waiting, listening. Subtle clicking sounds drizzle in from the living room. Lily’s laughter.

“What the hell?” I whisper and storm in, only to freeze at the sight before me.

Rita sits in one of the armchairs, framed by two men the size of bulldozers, both clad in black suits and sporting guns on their leather belts. Russians. No doubt about it because Grigori fucking Fedorov is playing checkers with my daughter at the ivory game table.

She has no idea who this man is or what he’s doing here, my innocent angel. She’s just glad someone took the time to play with her.

“Grigori,” I manage, my voice weak, my legs threatening to give way.

He sits comfortably in his chair, a warm smile stretching across his face whenever he looks at Lily. I don’t see cruelty in his eyes this time. I see something else, something profoundly human, fatherly, an emotion I can definitely relate to—pain wrapped in thick layers of fear.

“Mr. Winchester, I do apologize for the intrusion,” Grigori says, his tone even and calm.

“Hah! I beat you! Again!” Lily quips, delivering the final move across the game board.

Grigori laughs wholeheartedly. “That you did, little zaika; that you most certainly did. Congratulations on a game well played!” he pauses and gives me a long, hard look before his gaze softens back to my daughter. “I’m afraid your daddy and I have some business to discuss now. Would you please excuse us?”

“Lily, honey, why don’t you and Rita go back to your room and wait for me there?” I suggest, keeping a strained smile on my face. It’s hard to keep my composure with armed mobsters so close to my daughter.

Rita cautiously gets up and motions for Lily to follow her, but my daughter wants to hug me first. “Daddy!” she says. “Can we play checkers when you’re done? Mr. Greg taught me how to play.”

“Of course, baby,” I reply, gently stroking her pink, warm cheek. “Go with Rita now.”

“Okay!”

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