Page 47 of Near Miss

“Watch TV or something. This shouldn’t take long.”

He rewrapped the towel around his waist and walked into the living room where the Bean Counter waited with the guard who’d knocked on the door.

“This better be good,” Gromyko said.

“Good is not how I would describe it,” the Bean Counter said and shot a glance at the guard.

Gromyko nodded at the man. “Leave us.” Once the bodyguard was gone, the Greek asked, “What is it?”

“Your nephew is dead.”

Gromyko stared at him, not quite understanding the words. “Say that again.”

The Bean Counter did.

“You mean Trench?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s not confirmed yet, but I received a call from one of our people in the police department, and he said it’s only a formality they are waiting on.”

Gromyko walked over to the bar, poured himself a whiskey, and drank it in a single shot. “What happened?”

The Bean Counter described what he knew about the incident.

“A car bomb? So, this wasn’t an accident. Someone killed him on purpose.”

The Bean Counter was tempted to say that’s how car bombs worked, but he knew that would not be received well. Instead, he went with, “So it appears.”

Gromyko did not like his nephew. Trench was a lazy screwup who spent his life bouncing in and out of trouble that Gromyko had to clean up. The Greek had tried to give him a job in the organization, but Trench had half-assed it so badly that Gromyko had realized it was best to keep the waste-of-life far from the business.

Trench’s saving grace was that he was Gromyko’s sister’s only son. The Greek loved her more than he loved anyone else, so as much as he would have liked to disown Trench, that wasn’t in the cards. And now he would have to call his sister to tell her the news.

“Find out who did this,” he said. “Then I will destroy him.”

“When I know, you will know.”

As the Bean Counter left, Gromyko stormed back into thebedroom. The woman was in the bed, the sheet barely covering her.

“I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out now.”

He marched to his dresser, pulled out several one-hundred-dollar bills, and tossed them at her. “For your time.”

“Hey, I’m not—”

The stare he gave her cut her off. She gathered the money, dressed quickly, and was out of there in a flash.

Chapter 27

Stone woke the next morning to find the bed beside him empty and his secure cell phone ringing. From the lack of a caller ID, he knew who it was.

“This is early even for you, Lance,” he answered.

“It’s not every day one of my consultants is almost blown up.”

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