Page 111 of Wicked Arrangement

David nods, not even bothering to look up as I grab the keys from the table and get up. I can tell he’s slowly slipping into a funk, now the adrenaline has worn off and he’s soon going to be able to entrust the burden of keeping us safe to someone else he’s succumbing to his grief.

I stride over to the car, open the passenger side door, and root around in the glove box for my phone. As I search, I notice a small switchblade, without thinking too much about it, I put the knife in my pocket. Just as I’m about to turn the phone on, I spot a phone booth across the other end of the parking lot.Remembering Grace’s advice, I leave the phone switched off and go to call her from that instead.

As I’m feeding quarters into the machine, I sense a vehicle pulling up alongside me. Immediately, I am on high alert. The window rolls down and the driver calls out to me,

“Miss Walsh, I’ve been sent by Mrs. Gillihan to pick you up.”

As plausible as it is, I’m suspicious, Grace implied she would personally be coming to collect me.

“Great, let me just go grab my friend, he’s coming too,” I reply, trying to act normal.

“That’s okay, if you hop in, we can pull up right outside for him to jump right in,” the man replies politely.

It all seems plausible enough, and yet alarm bells are going off in my head. Something is telling me not to get in the car.

“Oh it’s alright, I’ll only take a moment,” I reply.

As I turn to walk away, I hear the sound of a gun cocking. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, ma’am,” the man says, pointing the gun at me.

I’ve no choice but to get inside the car. I just hope David notices and can find help before it’s too late. “Good choice,” the man says approvingly.

“Who sent you?” I ask, trying to sound braver than I feel, “Was it Innokentiy?”

The man snorts as though something I’ve said is amusing. “If it was Innokentiy, you’d be dead already.”

“Sharkozi then?”

“Bingo,” the man replies.

“What does he want with me?” I ask, knowing I probably won’t like the answer.

“Mr. Volkov wants you dead, that baby you’re carrying is one of the last remaining heirs to the Volkov fortune. Mr. Sharkozi would prefer to keep you alive for now.”

“Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He shrugs, “Leverage, I guess. I don’t make the orders, just follow them, nothing personal.”

Yaroslav told me that Bogdan Sharkozi’s sister is Innokentiy’s mistress, and they have two sons, surely it is in both of their interests that my child is never born so their sons can inherit. If they want me alive, there’s more to it than that.

I decide not to give away what I know for now. Information is valuable in this shady underworld, sharing my knowledge at the right time just might save my life. Either this man thinks I’m not a threat, or he doesn’t know enough to give anything away that he shouldn’t. For a would-be assassin, he’s remarkably chatty and affable. I wonder if that’s because he doesn’t expect me to live to tell the tale or he just doesn’t see me as a threat. Either way, he’s wrong, I’m not the one who isn’t going to make it out of this. I’ve survived too much to just give up easily. I stroke the switchblade in my pocket, finding comfort in the solidness of it. I just need to wait until his guard is down and make my escape.

“How did you find me?” I ask, figuring I might see if I can use his chattiness to my advantage.

He glances at me from the corner of his eye, giving me a look that implies he thinks I’m a simpleton for not figuring it out yet. “Your phone is tapped. Sharkozi has been privy to your whereabouts and any conversations you’ve had on it since you got to Orlando.”

This phone was given to me when I arrived in Orlando, my old one got lost the last time I was kidnapped. This reminds me that as far as being kidnapped goes, I have a shockingly bad track record. But more importantly, it means that someone other than Innokentiy must have been the mole as I suspected. There’s no way Innokentiy could have gotten to the phone to bug it before I arrived, it had to have been someone close to Yaroslav and my mind goes back to Artem.

I’m hoping given how forthcoming he’s being, the man might give me some information about what’s happening in Orlando. He could confirm who is loyal to Yaroslav and who isn’t, and more importantly, who’s alive and who’s dead. Though I know it’s unlikely, I’m desperately trying to hold onto the last shred of hope remaining that Yaroslav might still be alive.

Plus, if I can keep him talking, perhaps he’ll become distracted enough for me to get away.

“So, were you part of the, uh, take over at the Volkov house?” I ask, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Again, he gives me that sideways look, “Does it matter? It’s not like I was one of your men in the first place, it’s just business sweetheart.”

I try not to bristle at being called sweetheart by some thug sent to kidnap me. “True. I guess I’m just trying to work out why you are on babysitting duty when the other men are all busy fighting to take over one of the most powerful Bratvas. Is it all over that quickly? Or did they just think you could only handle a singular pregnant woman?”

I can tell my question had its intended result, I’ve riled him and offended his ego. This also means he’s more likely to slip up and reveal more information.

---