Page 26 of My Wild Horse King

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not trying to offend you, sir. I just don’t understand what a doorman does, clearly.”

“My name is Norm.” He huffs. “I stand here to greet people as they come in. I help with packages. I monitor the building. I make sure if a resident is ever locked out of their apartment, they can get in.”

“Uh, okay,” I say. “Well, I’m looking for my friend, Daniel Belmont. He’s on. . .” I glance down at the note on my phone. “Floor twenty-four.”

“He’s a busy man today.” The man snags a clipboard off his podium stand and flips through a paper or two. “I don’t see any notes about you coming.” He folds his arms.

“Well, Norm, Daniel doesn’t know I’m coming.”

“I can call him and ask for permission to send you up.” He looks at my name tag. “Edith.”

“He doesn’t know I’m coming. . .” I lean closer. “Because it’s asurprise.”

He arches one eyebrow. “Mr. Belmont doesn’t like surprises, and more importantly, he doesn’t allow them.”

I’m sure that, thanks to the rain soaking my hair and body, the coveralls, and the big blotchy stain on the front of my chest, I’m not looking very inspiring. I’ll have to gamble just a little bit more.

“Listen, my friends have already gone up to see him.” Please let that have some hope of being true. “You probably saw them. A blond Russian man, quite tall. Another tall, dark-haired one, and a blockier, really muscular one. They each had theirgirlfriends—” I cringe at the word, because I hate saying it in reference to Alexei. “With them.”

Norm’s still frowning, but he waves me toward the elevator. “You don’t look particularly scary. I suppose it’s fine.” He huffs again. “You better hope I don’t get fired for this. I have quite a few, very bright grandchildren whose college I’m saving to pay for. I really need to keep this job.”

“I’m not a serial killer,” I say. “I swear.”

“Which is exactly what a serial killer would say.” He looks like he’s thinking about changing his mind and lunging in front of me, much as a guard would do, but he sighs as the elevator opens. “Twenty-fourth floor.”

I hit the button and wait.

It feels like it takes a lot longer than it should to reach the top floor, but the elevator never stops. When the doors open, I know I’m in the right place.

Because Alexei and his stupid girlfriend, her sister and Grigoriy, and Kristiana and Aleksandr are all standing in the entryway. The only person I don’t recognize. . .mustbe Daniel Belmont.

“Daniel,” I say. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Is it, Miss Yurovsky?” The same dark-skinned man from the airport steps into the entry from behind a short wall, and he tilts his head. “Tell me again, Mr. Belmont, how you don’t know her.” At the airport, he seemed like the reasonable one, but right now, his expression is practically diabolical.

7

GUSTAV

Ihad almost forgotten how quickly the Liepas can drag someone down and drown them.

“I’ve been here more than ten years,” I mutter. “Ten years, and you show up now, when I’m two weeks away from the end zone.”

“You said you’ve been planning this for ten years?” Suddenly, for the second time today, someone pulls a gun.

This time, though, it’s pointed at me.

“Agent Price,” I say. “I haven’t planned anything like you’re thinking. I’m as much a victim here as you are. I have no idea how this horrible woman escaped your custody, and I’ve never met her in my entire life. The woman there—” I point. “Is my sister Kristiana Liepa. I changed my name when I emigrated here, legally, from Latvia more than a decade gone. My grandfather agreed to help me with school and support my business efforts, but he wanted me to look and sound as American as my mother. I agreed with his plan, and so my dual citizenship quickly became solely US citizenship.”

Agent Price isn’t having it. “So you havenoidea how this particular woman, who gave me your name back at the airport office, escaped and wound up right here, somehow slipping past your doorman, and is now standing brazenly in your entryway?”

“I understand that it sounds strange, but?—”

Agent Price squints and looks past me at the ground. “What the—” He cuts off, leaning toward the ground behind Kristiana. “What is that?” He uses his free hand to wave us back and then he steps forward.

A very dark, very clearly shaped muddy hoofprint on my white carpet is what he’s staring at. I can’t help wincing. After all, therewasa horse at the detention center, and now there’s a hoofprint here, in my apartment.

“Do you have a horse here in your apartment, Mr. Belmont?”

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