Page 142 of Blood & Snow
If I simply vanish without warning, I leave him exposed to consequences that could end with his execution.
His boss doesn't forgive operational failures, but I know his men are well able to do the work I do now.
I can make sure they do the job well and then follow up with him afterward, show him they're capable.
And if I show him they can handle the final cleanup and demonstrate that I'm capable of walking away without betraying his secrets, maybe he'll understand my choice.
Maybe he'll even respect it.
It won't do anything to stop the hemorrhage when my heart tears open because I have to end things with him.
But maybe he'll still want me, even if I no longer work for him.
The thought sends warmth through my chest, hope battling against the fear that has consumed me since our confrontation in the car.
Xander called me his little bird, claimed that no one walks away from him.
But those were words spoken in anger and desperation, weren't they?
Surely, he wouldn't hurt me for choosing my family over his world of violence.
I slide from beneath warm blankets, moving quietly through the apartment where Irina and the children sleep.
They all sleep deeply enough that I won't wake them, even when I don my boots and grab my coat from the hall closet.
But when I head out to what I assume is a waiting car, I see nothing.
No Igor, no Ivan.
No one here to usher me toward the impending doom, so despite knowing it upsets him, I'm left with no choice but to call a cab again.
The taxi arrives fifteen minutes after I make the call.
The driver doesn't speak, accustomed to transporting peoplewho prefer anonymity to conversation.
His radio plays classical music, and he grunts every so often as we pass a car.
I try to steady myself, hugging my arms over my nauseous stomach, but the closer we get to the industrial district Xander beckoned me to, the more nervous I get.
Igor's car idles near the entrance, exhaust steaming in the cold air.
He emerges as my taxi approaches, nodding acknowledgment as I pay the driver and step out onto the frozen pavement.
"Bad one tonight," he grumbles, his weathered face grim in the low lighting.
He looks exhausted and he's covered in blood.
I'd almost assume he'd been hit if he didn't just look annoyed at me for taking so long.
I shoulder my supply bag, feeling its familiar bulk.
"How many?"
"Enough to keep you busy until dawn."
The vague answer settles uneasily in my stomach.
Usually Igor provides exact numbers, allowing me to estimate the time and supplies required for complete sanitization.
