Page 84 of Mountain Daddy

Only this time, I'm not letting her run.

This time, I know where to find her.

The phone rings as I'm reaching for my keys.

Mrs. Chen's number flashes on the screen.

Odd. The elderly woman has never called me before. I gave her my number after I fixed her car. Said she could call if she had car trouble again.

"Nikolai?" Her voice is shaky. Worried. "I'm sorry to bother you, but something's happened at the bakery."

My blood goes cold. "What kind of something?"

"Vandalism. It’s bad. That poor girl Lilly... you should come help her. You’re her friend, aren’t you? She's at the police station now, filing a report, trying to clean up the mess."

I'm already moving toward the door. "I'll be right there."

"Thank you, dear. She shouldn't have to deal with this alone."

The line goes dead.

I drive like hell toward town, my mind racing through possibilities. Random teenagers. Petty criminals.

But something in my heart suggests this is more than random mischief. After all, I’ve been around her in public. People have seen us together.

The first thing I see is the shattered glass.

Sugar and Spice's front windows are completely destroyed. Jagged edges catch the morning sunlight like broken teeth.

Then I see the graffiti.

Spray paint covers the brick walls in angry slashes of black and red. A Russian word I recognize immediately.

Whore.

My jaw clenches so hard I taste blood.

But it's the symbol carved into the wooden door that makes my vision go red.

A raven flying above a burning building.

Kozlov family mark.

Viktor's cousins found me.

Found her.

I park across the street, scan the area for threats. The main drag is quiet this early. No suspicious cars. No watchers in doorways.

But they were here. Marked her business. Threatened her.

Made this personal.

I cross the street calmly. I left Chicago because of those cops, not the fucking Kozlovs.

There’s no chance they’re scaring me away. Not after what they’ve done.

The front door hangs open. I step through the frame, glass crunching under my boots.

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