Page 9 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
“I…”
Her brow creases and debate seems to rage inside her, so I turn back to the food and continue to cook until her small voice drifts through the air once more.
“My car broke down across the street and my phone died. I saw lights in the pizzeria, and it was the only place in the entire block with life, so I walked in hoping someone could lend me a phone for a mechanic or a charger. That’sit. That’s all I was doing, I swear. And why are you interrogating me? Youmurderedsomeone! I watched you! And I’m next, right? If I don’t play your little game?”
Her voice rises and rises until it starts to crack and she’s babbling breathlessly. “I have people who will miss me, you know. People who will look, and they won’t stop looking, so unless you plan on wiping out my entire family line, you will let me go. Because my parents know people. And my boss? My God, you do not want to piss her off. She’s like a hornet in a helicopter when she’s pissed and she will track me down and make your life a living hell if you do anything to me!”
Listening to her patiently, I dish up the curry into two bowls and face her. Placing one down in front of her, I then lean back against the opposite counter and cross one leg over the other while I dig in. “It’s simple, Hollie. You don’t know what you saw.”
“Are you telling me that as some tricky way of telling me what to say if the cops come knocking?”
“No. Youreallydon’t know what you saw.”
She gapes at me and pushes the bowl away. “There’s no way you’re telling me that poor man deserved everything you did tohim? And why am I even trying to discuss morals with a cold-blooded killer and kidnapper!”
“Have you been harmed?”
“Yes.” She turns her bruised cheek toward me and I wince inwardly. “Did you forget what your brute of a friend did to me?”
“No. I hadn’t forgotten. I am sorry that happened. It wasn’t supposed to.”
Her hands return to being clasped tightly. “Oh, that makes it alright, then.”
With a trembling sigh, the telltale signs of her adrenaline-fueled confidence are fading. Her hands shake more visible, she’s constantly chewing on her lower lip, and rather than glaring at me, she’s scanning her surroundings for any way out. Not that she’ll get far if she does run.
Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes from its current home face down on the counter next to the stove.
“Hello?”
“Maxim!” My father’s voice barks in my ear and it takes all my strength not to wince at the volume. “Tell me what the fuck you are doing playing house with a witness?”
Stu. That bastard.
He’s always been a bit of a problem but constantly insists it comes from a place of concern to stop me from ending up on my father’s chopping block. I fail to see how his tattling on me to thePakhanis saving my neck in any regard.
“We have a problem and I’m dealing with it.”
“You know exactly how to deal with it.” Dad’s almost clawing his way through the phone and burying in my mind. “So deal with it. Kill her and move on. I don’t have time for this.”
With a click, the call ends as abruptly as it started, and I bite back a sigh. Hollie’s watching me with large, saucer-like eyes and her hands have moved to hug the bowl for its warmth.
“Are you going to let me go now?”
Setting my phone down on the counter, I draw another phone from my pocket. This one is in a purple butterfly case and Hollie recognizes it immediately. Her hand flies to the small pocket on her skirt, then her brows lift in alarm.
“You stole my phone?”
“It took you this long to notice it wasn’t there anymore.”
“Give it back!”
I lazily scroll through the device as Hollie half rises in her seat and then thinks better of it. Her passcode was painfully easy to crack with Toto’s help.
“Your parents, Susan and Martin Wolfe, correct? Cute. You take a lot of family pictures. Warm. Wholesome.”
All attitude has faded from Hollie’s face, replaced by open fear. “Please…”
“Cute dog. Such an important part of the family and always such a tragedy when they pass. Although nothing compares to the loss of a parent now, does it?” Through her contacts and linked pictures, I scroll until her phone buzzes with a message. “Tiffany says Happy Thanksgiving. She’s your boss, hmm? The hornet in the helicopter?”
