Page 63 of Deadly Protector
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Zamira stared at her phone as Dimitri’s name flashed on the screen. She’d come home, showered, called her kids. Twice. Then had a glass of wine and had ordered Thai delivery.
All while obsessing over Dimitri, wondering what the heck had gone wrong between them. Why he hadn’t been able to take her at her word that she didn’t need any space, that she knew her own mind enough to know that she wanted him.
“Hey,” she answered on the fourth ring.
He shoved out a sigh of what sounded a lot like relief. “Hey, how are you?”
“Good.” Not good. She wanted answers. Wanted to know exactly where they stood.
“Good.”
Silence stretched between them, beyond awkward. At the sound of the doorbell, she pushed up from the couch and headed through the kitchen toward the front of the house. “So…how are you?”
“Good. Look, I’m sorry about before. Are you free tonight?”
She wanted to say no, but she was pretty weak where Dimitri was concerned, and a wave of relief hit her that he wanted to see her so soon. “I just ordered Thai food and there’s enough for two.” Okay, there was enough for a soccer team, but she wasn’t going to tell him that she’d planned to drown her sadness in food tonight. “Do you want to come over?” she asked as she opened the door. But she froze as she found Kurt Ryba on her doorstep, bags of food in hand. “Oh my God.”
He dropped the bags and grabbed her phone from her hand, smashed it to the ground even as he shoved her back into the foyer.
Before she could think or blink, he had a gun shoved in her face, his expression set. Terrifying. “I want the password to a bank account. It’s my only access to an offshore account. Without it, I can’t get my funds.”
Her heart was racing out of control as she tried to process his words. Panic punched through her, sweat pricking the bottom of her spine as she tried not to stare at the gun. “And you think I have it?” she whispered.
“No, but your husband had it saved somewhere.” He cursed, looked past her. “Is your boyfriend here?”
“No. We…broke up. Oh my God, did you hurt the delivery driver?” Another surge of panic spiraled through her.
“What? No. I just gave him a fifty when he drove up and said I’d bring it inside. Now where would Lucas have kept a password?” He motioned with his gun that she should move farther into the house.
She did, walking backward, staring at the terrifying weapon. “I…” She didn’t know. She didn’t know!
He pressed the gun to her temple and a flash of ice slicked down her spine.
She was going to die. He was going to kill her right where she stood if she screwed up. No! She would be smart… “I can’t think when you’re holding a gun on me,” she finally got out, her voice raspy.
He lowered it halfway so that it wasn’t directly in her face and she sucked in air, able to actually take a full breath again. “Think hard,” he said, his tone threatening.
“Okay. I…I’m trying to think. I donated most of his clothes and you looked through everything… Wait, he has yearbooks up in the attic! Maybe it’s in there. I keep them stored with the Christmas decorations. I forgot about them, but I don’t know. Maybe he kept what you’re looking for there?”
“You’d better hope so,” he snarled. “And you’d better not be lying.”
She held up her hands, couldn’t stop the tremble that snaked through her at the promise of death in his eyes. “I have no reason to lie. I don’t want anything from you or from him.” Other than for Ryba to get out of her life and leave her the hell alone.
He eyed her for another long moment, then looked around the interior of her foyer and into the dining room right off it. “How do you get into your attic?”
“This way.” She motioned down the hall, wondering if Dimitri had tried to call her back. Or hopefully called the cops. Something. “There’s an opening right in the hallway to the bedrooms.” There was also one in the garage and she just hoped she’d be able to get away from him long enough to use it to escape. Her attic was huge and escaping out one of the openings was her only chance.
Because she had no doubt Ryba was going to kill her, whether he found what he was looking for or not. She couldn’t depend on Dimitri calling in backup or getting here in time. She was going to save herself—her kids were not losing both their parents.
When they stood under the square inlaid panel, she nodded at it. “I can’t reach the door without a step stool. There’s one in the kitchen.”
“Move back,” he ordered, then reached up, but it was too high even for him and he was over six feet tall. “All right, come on.”
They headed to the kitchen where she indicated he should grab the stool out of the pantry. And he kept his gun on her the entire time. He also made sure she wasn’t close enough to rush him.
Not that she was going to, but it was clear he was being cautious.
