Page 65 of The Mafia King's Baby

“Hands where I can see them. Drop the gun.”

I release the Glock 19, letting it fall to the passenger seat while keeping my movements slow and deliberate. The barrel of his pistol remains pressed against my skull, a constant pressure that makes every breath feel precarious.

“Smart girl. Now turn around slowly.”

I rotate in the seat until I’m facing him almost directly. He’s younger than I expected from the surveillance photos, maybe mid-thirties, with the kind of clean-cut appearance that screams federal law enforcement. Under different circumstances, he’d be unremarkable and the kind of person you’d pass on the street without a second glance.

“Slide over to the passenger seat. Keep your hands visible.”

I comply, moving carefully across the center console while he maintains the gun’s position. Once I’m in the passenger seat, heclimbs through the broken rear window and positions himself directly behind me with the pistol now pressed against the back of my head once more. “Where’s the notebook?”

The question confuses me for a moment. “What notebook?”

“Don’t play stupid. Yefrem’s notebook that will implicate him.”

“I don’t know anything about a notebook.”

“Wrong answer.” The pressure of the gun barrel increases. “Your boyfriend is going to die today, and you can choose whether you die with him or help us clean up this mess.”

The casual way he discusses murder makes me tremble. This isn’t desperation or fear but calculated violence from someone who views killing as routine.

“We know Lang is dead. We haven’t found the body yet, but we know your Russian boyfriend killed him.” His voice carries the tone of someone explaining simple facts. “What we need is that notebook to expose Kulikov as supporting evidence, and we need to make sure the right story gets told about what happened.”

Keep him talking. The thought surfaces from some survival instinct I didn’t know I possessed. As long as he’s explaining his plan, he’s not pulling the trigger. “What story is that?”

He flashes a cold smile lacking any amusement. “Yefrem Kulikov is a dangerous criminal who killed a federal agent to cover up his own crimes. He murdered Assistant Director Patricia Hendricks when she got too close to exposing his network.” He looks briefly at his watch. “He’ll be murdering her in a matter of days.”

The name doesn’t mean anything to me, but it’s clear they’re planning to kill an innocent person and blame Yefrem for it.Frame him for crimes he didn’t commit while committing actual murders themselves.

“Patricia Hendricks is a clean agent, a twenty-year veteran, and a mother of two.” Kim’s voice takes on an almost conversational tone, as if we’re discussing weather instead of murder. “When her body is found, and when the evidence points to Kulikov, every clean agent in the Bureau will be hunting him personally. No questions asked, and no benefit of the doubt. No more cloak-and-dagger shit as we try to skirt below the radar to find him. We’ll have every resource at our disposal.”

I try to process the scope of what he’s describing. It’s not just individual corruption, but systematic conspiracy involving multiple murders and elaborate frame jobs. “And if I don’t cooperate?”

“Then you die here, and we tell the story anyway. Your death becomes more evidence of Kulikov’s brutality because he murdered his girlfriend when she tried to run from him.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

He chuckles. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be dead. We’ll paint it that he realized you’re the weak point in his operation and eliminated you.” The gun shifts position slightly, and I feel the safety clicking off. “You know it’s true, right? You’re his weak spot. He cares about you, which makes him predictable. Vulnerable.”

I force myself to remain still and to keep my voice steady despite the terror clawing at my chest. “What exactly do you want from me?”

“The location of Yefrem’s notebook and where you’ve been hiding while investigating. I want all the evidence he’s found so I can destroy it. We also require your cooperation in framingKulikov for crimes we’re going to commit anyway. Oh, and silence about Bureau operations you’ve been exposed to.”

“And in exchange?”

“You live. You’ll get a new identity and money to start over.” His voice takes on an almost reasonable tone. “Think about it because your boyfriend is going to die tonight regardless. The question is whether you die with him or build a new life.”

The offer is designed to sound appealing, but I can hear the lie underneath it. People who casually discuss murdering federal agents don’t leave loose ends alive. Whatever they’re promising, the reality would be very different. They would kill me whether it’s right after they take my statement or wait months until I’m settled in a new life, thinking I’m safe.

I couldn’t do that to Yefrem anyway, but I don’t believe his promises for a second. “I need time to think.”

“You have about thirty seconds before your boyfriend bleeds out in that building. Then the offer expires.”

Gunfire erupts from the direction of the abandoned structure from multiple weapons firing in sustained bursts. Through the broken rear window, I see muzzle flashes lighting up the interior of the building like deadly fireworks.

“Sounds like time’s up.” Kim’s voice carries grim satisfaction. “What’s it going to be?”

Before I can answer, shadows move through the trees toward our position. I think I make out two figures running in a tactical crouch, weapons drawn, and moving with the kind of coordinated precision that speaks to years of partnership.

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