Page 67 of Hell Hath No Fury

“What is Dmitri’s mother’s name?”

Frowning, I respond, “Irina Petrova. Why?”

She goes back to typing on her phone, ignoring the two impatient people hanging out on the sidewalk with her. I tap my foot, sighing loudly, and finally, she explains, “Matt is getting us a location.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. With a heavy sigh, I fish it out, turning it over to see a message from an unknown number. Sighing again, I consider ignoring it, but a glance at Agatha tells me I have time to deal with whatever spam awaits me.

Clicking on the message, I squint at the dark image that comes through, quickly realizing it’s the thumbnail of a video. I touch my finger to the screen, the video pops up, and then I blink at it, frowning. It only takes a moment for my initial confusion to evaporate, steamrolled by a flood of rage as I recognize the man on the video.

“Motherfucking cunt,” I shout, squeezing the phone in my hand so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. I draw my hand back in fury, but Agatha grabs my wrist, yanking the phone from my grip before I can smash it all over the pavement.

Agatha holds the phone out in front of her, and Antoinette touches the screen, their matching curses confirming my eyes were not deceiving me. Agatha looks at me, her eyes wild. “What the fuck is this?”

I shake my head, the feeling of insanity leaving my words stuck in my throat. Then Agatha shoves the phone back under my nose. “You have another message.”

Unknown: If you want him, come get him.

“I’m gonna gut that fucking bitch,” I spit out far too loudly for a street corner.

Unknown: Come alone.

An address comes through, and I show it to Agatha. “That’s not far from here. Let’s go.”

I grab her arm, stopping her. “I have to go alone.”

“Not fucking happening,” Antoinette responds, shaking her head.

Sighing, I put my free hand on Antoinette’s arm, looking between them as I respond, “I have no choice.”

Agatha and Antoinette look at each other, and I see the unease in their matching blue eyes. My eyes. Conflicted. Worried.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

They both stare at me, obviously wanting to refuse. Knowing there’s no other way, Agatha nods, and Antoinette sighs but stops protesting.

“Go back to the hangar and wait for the guys. Once you’re all sorted, come for me, and come in hot,” I instruct before turning to head toward the address sent to me.

“Mama,” Antoinette’s voice behind me has me looking back at her. I raise my brows in question as she says, “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Come back to us.”

I tilt my head, smiling faintly. Because I know exactly what she means.

Then I turn and disappear into the crowd.

30

Deja Who

Antonio

I’mdead.

That’s my first thought when I find myself floating in that murky nothingness between sleep and wakefulness.

My second thought stems from acknowledging that I’m not dead and wondering if I would be better off dead. Because, in my extensive experience with fuckery, whatever fuckery is going on here cannot be good.

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