Page 11 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

Target within pre-defined radius,it says. The map shows Arya’s little red dot.

And it’s only a few miles away from mine.

Suddenly, it all clicks together. Arya is how I’ll crack open the casino. And the casino is how I’ll crack open Arya.

I set her GPS marker as my destination. Then I fire up the car and head out.

“Can’t wait to see you again, Arya,” I growl. “But I doubt you’ll feel the same.”

Arya

THREE DAYS LATER—A CHINESE TAKEOUT PLACE IN ATLANTIC CITY

There’s a feeling I can’t shake. Ever since we arrived in Atlantic City, it’s been following me around like a shadow.

Like I’m being chased. I know I’m not, but the feeling persists anyway. I check over my shoulder constantly. I take weird routes around whenever I have to go out for food or supplies. And if I can help it, I don’t go out at all.

It’s no way to live.

None of this is, really. We’ve been holed up in yet another dingy motel. I’m dreaming of the day we get to say goodbye to these shitholes and go somewhere else forever. Somewhere bright and sunny and European, where no one has ever heard of me and no one gives a damn what I’m running from. Somewhere my son, Ernestine, and June will all be safe.

We’ll get there. It just takes time.

Arnie Fleishman said one week for the passports. Three days down, four to go.

“Anything else for your order?” asks the little old woman behind the cash register.

“Umm, yes, please,” I stammer as I survey the Chinese takeout menu overhead. “Can I get a pork fried rice, and, uh…”

My eyes pass over the dumplings and I shudder.

Ever since the night at Brigitte’s brother’s house, the mere thought of dumplings makes me nauseous. It’s the last meal I had before my son was ripped from my arms and my best friend sold me into sex slavery. Not exactly a heart-warming memory.

So yeah—if I never have dumplings again, that’ll be fine by me.

“Four eggrolls, please. And a sesame chicken. That’s all.”

“Forty-nine sixty-two,” the woman says.

I hand over my cash and step out of line to wait for my food.

The other people waiting in line mostly ignore me. Except for one man. He’s ridiculously tall, at least six and a half feet, with a scraggly beard and sunglasses on even though it’s nighttime.

And every time I glance away, he shoots a quick little look over at me.

I shiver.Relax, girl,I tell myself.It’s nothing. He’s no one. And you’re no one to him.

But my body doesn’t want to listen. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a chill surges through me.

I wonder if I’ll ever be able to trust anyone again. My makeshift little family—Ernie, June, and Lukas—are the only pure people left in this world, as far as I’m concerned. Everyone else is a threat until proven otherwise.

I sink to a seat in one of the hard plastic booths and keep my eyes in my lap.Hurry up,I beg silently.Just let me get out of here before I have a very public meltdown.

The clock on the wall ticks out the seconds. I count them to try and soothe my fragile nerves.

One… Two…

Two hundred thirty four…

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