Page 6 of For a Price

“He… he saw us…” he mumbles.

“You said he was an old man! You said he was feeble! We have two very different definitions of old and feeble ’cuz…”

He coughs up blood as I ease him up into a sitting position.

“He is old… feeble. The real Volkova…”

“Then who’s this?”

“Who cares?” JC wipes at his face with the sleeve of his shirt, leaving a smear of gruesome blood on the fabric. “Call Fozzil. Get him to come up and help us.”

“Help us… do what?”

“The body. Take him down. He’s bigger than we thought.”

I shake my head side to side. “Nope. No way am I kidnappingthisguy. Are you crazy?”

“We can’t turn back now,” JC says. “He saw our faces. He knows we came. The ransom has to continue.”

I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore as I concede JC's point and call Fozzil up.

Sixteen painstaking minutes later, the three of us are huffing and puffing as we cart the Russian imposter downstairs in a shredder bin we’ve found in the copy room.

I hurry ahead to slide open the van so JC and Fozzil can roll the two hundred pound plus man onto the floor of the back of the van. We’ve zip-tied his wrists and ankles and duct-taped his mouth.

“This is a disaster,” I mutter.

“Get in,” Fozzil says, shaking his shaggy hunk of hair out of his face. He’s been in a sour mood ever since I called him up to help. He was looking forward to being getaway driver and nothing else.

Finding out that we botched the kidnapping was the worst news he could receive.

JC limps toward the front passenger seat. “I need the ER.”

“We’ll drop the captive off at the safe house then run you by the ER. He wrecked you, dude.”

“Tell me about it,” JC mumbles, his words garbled from his swollen lips.

We drive across the city ’til we’re reaching the Heinsberg Park area, one of the poorest neighborhoods in Northam.

Fozzil parks outside an apartment building that looks like it should be condemned.

It probably is.

Getting Roman Volkova upstairs to the second floor is about as challenging as getting him downstairs in the Crowne Tower.

Once we’re done, dropping him down onto a sunken couch in the otherwise barren living room, it feels like an accomplishment. We wipe sweat from our brows and let out relieved breaths.

Fozzil pins me with a sour look. “I’m taking this one to the ER. Hang out here with him.”

“You’re kidding right? Me, hang out with him?!”

“I’ve already done more than my part,” Fozzil snaps. “I was driver. You and JC were supposed to do the capture. But you fucked it all up. This isn’t even the guy Finch mentioned.”

“Tell JC that!” I say, hot and irritated myself. “He’s the one that wanted to continue.”

JC's dripping blood as he counters me. “We came that far! We had to!”

“Keep watch over him, Kat,” Fozzil says. “I’m taking JC to the fucking ER. Got it?”

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