Page 81 of Power's Fall

Montana was scrolling through the embedded data to check for exactly that, but he shook his head. “No, he actually sent the message to what looks like an email, but the email is just a string of letters and numbers…” As he watched, the email address for the contact labeled Spain changed. “Holy shit. This is…” He shook his head. This was some seriously complicated cycling if it was able to constantly change email addresses but maintain the contact status in someone else’s phone. This sort of thing was found in heavy-duty passwords, not personal email.

Before Montana could dig deeper, another alert flashed up—and Montana’s heart stopped dead in his chest.

“Fuck,” he shouted in alarm. “We have to get out of here. Now.” He jumped out of bed, racing toward his suitcase for a pair of pants.

Vadisk was already out of bed, reaching for his own clothing, reacting to Montana’s curse before he even explained.

“Get up. Get dressed,” he ordered Dahlia, who was slower to move, clearly confused.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because Sinaver just put out a warrant for our arrest.”

ChapterFourteen

“Lights,” Dahlia said as she rolled off the bed. Montana slapped the switch, and Dahlia breathed easier now that she could see. The room hadn’t been totally dark, she could tell that much, but she couldn’t see well enough to get what she needed. Vadisk and Montana could probably see perfectly fine. She swallowed hard against the anxiety knot just behind her breastbone and focused on what she needed to do.

Dahlia had her bra and underwear on in less than thirty seconds. Clothes weren’t the next priority; passports were. She dug her passport waist bag out of her luggage and strapped it around her bare stomach.

“Nik,” Vadisk said, his phone to his ear. She didn’t catch the rest of what he said because he was speaking Ukrainian.

Nik. Nikolett. Vadisk’s admiral.

Now wasn’t the time to think about Vadisk’s relationship with his admiral, but Dahlia was worried about it. If Vadisk was secretly in love with Nikolett, this marriage was in trouble before it even really started.

Of course, this marriage was in more immediate trouble if they didn’t get out of here before Sinaver’s people arrested them.

“Passports,” she demanded.

Montana finished yanking on shoes and passed his over. Vadisk rushed out of the room, still on the phone.

Right now seemed like a good time for her to make a phone call too.

Dahlia picked up her phone, hit the emergency contact number she’d been given, and then set the phone on the bed so she had both hands free to yank on pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

“What’s wrong?” the Grand Master asked, and Dahlia could have laughed in relief that the number worked, and that she’d gotten the Grand Master directly instead of one of the counselors.

“We’re about to be arrested,” Dahlia said.

“Crimean police or Russian military?”

“Neither. Crimean Security Force.”

There was a beat of silence. “There’s no such thing.”

“Sinaver Abduramanov.” She spelled the name. “He’s the blackmailer, Minister of the Interior, but also head of this Crimean Security Force, which appears to be a volunteer militia.”

The Grand Master didn’t waste time with more questions. “Any chance you can avoid capture?”

The word capture made Dahlia swallow. Capture and arrest were very different words, resulting in very different situations. Arrest meant being in a cell in a police station somewhere, or maybe back in that windowless room in the airport. Capture evoked images of dungeons and torture.

“Yes.” Dahlia had to clear her throat and try again. “Yes. There’s an escape plan. The warrant was just ordered.”

“And it’s…three a.m. there?”

“Yes.” Dahlia put on socks and shoes, then a light jacket. Vadisk, now fully dressed, raced back in, still on the phone, and handed her his passport. She lifted her shirt and stuffed his passport in with hers and Montana’s.

“Hopefully that means they’re planning to come in the morning and you have a few hours. But I want you out of there. Now.”

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