Page 89 of Seek Him Like Shelter

With that, he and Rico headed out, and two more men appeared in my hallway, both from Rico’s crew.

“Is everything okay?” Elizabeth asked as soon as I walked back into the kitchen.

“Yeah. He just wanted to tell me his plan.”

“You can’t tell me that, right?” she asked.

“Not really, no. But it should work. This will be over.”

“Even when I go to the news and police?”

“Did the senator mention any names in the recording?”

“No.”

“Then, yeah, it should be fine.” The Russians would likely pin the corruption on the man already locked up. Or the one who had oh so conveniently ‘gone missing.’ They’d walk away with barely a scratch.

“Okay,” she said, giving me a small smile.

“So, are you ready for another cooking lesson?” I asked, rolling up my sleeves.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Elizabeth

Islah was on her way with one of her cousins to get a second opinion from a neurologist. It was out of an abundance of caution, since Islah seemed mostly back to normal even after a night of being woken up periodically by Saff asking her name, the date, who the president was, just trying to make sure she wasn’t having any confusion.

Cinna had been with the very large entourage of people who’d gone with them, looking as badass as ever, even after having been knocked around and shot.

“You okay?” Elian asked, watching me as I watched them leave.

“How does one become as badass as Cinna and Saff?” I asked.

“Best guess?” he asked, looking a little sad, “A lot of trauma.”

That made sense, I guess.

We all had our share of trauma. But I was pretty sure my trauma was not the kind that would lead to wanting to be a mafia capo.

“When do you want to get going?” Elian asked as I put my morning coffee mug in the sink.

“I told Nathan I would meet him at one. So we need to be done with the police by then,” I said, sucking in a steadying breath, still worried that I might somehow get in trouble for something that, clearly, was not my fault.

Elian, Renzo, and a guy named Coal had coached me on to say and not to say to reveal to the police when I went in. And since they were clearly more experts on this topic than I was, I decided to stick with exactly what they said.

Which meant I wasn’t going to mention the attacks on my life. Not the guy breaking into my apartment, not the incident at the school, my belief that the bullet the senator took was for me, and definitely not the shooting at Elian’s condo.

Nor, for obvious reasons, anything about Elian or his family at all.

This was simply about a suspicious conversation I overheard one night, then my determination to figure out what the senator was up to, so I could tell the police.

Everything else, well, that was up to the police to figure out.

I was a whistleblower and nothing else.

My only concern with the plan was a possible eventual trial. But, I reminded myself, the senator didn’t know about any of the assassination attempts. In his mind, he was the target. So there was no reason to assume his defense team would question me about anything else either.

“I’m just gonna jump in the shower,” Elian said, still in his black sleep pants and a rumpled tee he’d pulled on before making breakfast. “We can head out right after.”

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