Vow (Dark and Dangerous Book 3) Page 6

  “Don’t look back.”

  Good advice.

  I kept my gaze focused on the fire escape, relief making me weak in the knees when we reached it.

  I crashed into Ivan’s back when he stopped in front of the window.

  I realized that he was being cautious, needed to be sure that no one was out there.

  He looked quickly but apparently didn’t see anything and then turned back to me.

  “We go down. When you get to the bottom, go west. If you lose me, keep going.”

  Leave him behind?

  I had told him he had to go, but the thought of leaving him now, not knowing what had happened to him, was one I couldn’t contemplate.

  But I wouldn’t argue with him.

  Instead, I followed him out of the window and down the fire escape.

  Ping.

  Ping, ping, ping.

  Bullets, I realized.

  The panic I had been trying to fight back threatened again, but I pushed it down, even more ruthlessly this time.

  It was even more important that I maintain my sense of calm now than it had been before.

  So I did that, kept calm, tried to ignore the bullets whizzing past my head and the strange sense of unreality that was coming over me.

  What did I know about this?

  Nothing.

  But when we reached the ground, I glanced at Ivan, saw that he still had that calm, and tried to mimic it.

  My foot had barely hit the sidewalk before he took off, and I followed.

  I felt exposed out in the open but ran as fast as I could.

  I heard another ping, then another, but they soon stopped.

  I didn’t.

  I kept running, kept running, and could feel Ivan behind me.

  He could have easily passed me, but I realized that he was keeping himself between me and whatever was behind us.

  Somehow, that gave me the strength to run faster, so I did.

  I don’t know how far, or for how long, but I thought my heart would explode, and my lungs were burning as I tried to suck in air.

  I had to stop, didn’t want to, but absolutely had no other choice.

  I slowed, risked looking behind me, and saw Ivan slowing as well.

  “This way,” he whispered, gesturing toward an alley.

  I looked around and realized we had gone about fifteen blocks. Far, but not nearly far enough as far as I was concerned.

  “We should keep going,” I said around gulping breaths.

  “No. We’re too easy to spot. We have to get off the street.”

  “And go where?”

  “I have an idea.”

  I looked at him, saw that he was still calm, and realized that any concern he might feel was for me.

  He could handle this.

  I was slowing him down.

  “I’m just slowing you down. Go. I’ll go somewhere…”

  “Leave you here? Alone?”

  The venom, the anger in his expression made me take a step back.

  I wanted to say something, tell him that I meant no offense, but the expression on his face, the air of danger rolling off him, kept me silent.

  I said nothing, just waited, listened as he made a call.

  “Meet me at 21st and Second.”

  The call was over in less than three seconds, and then I watched as he slammed his phone onto the ground and then stomped on it.

  He stared at the shards of glass and plastic on the ground, then bent down and picked something up.

  I watched, fascinated, as he studied the small piece of plastic.

  “Stay here,” he said.

  I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere, but I didn’t say that.

  Instead I watched as he tentatively made his way toward the mouth of the alley.

  He looked left, looked right, then darted across the street to a dump truck.

  He tossed the piece of plastic inside, then quickly walked back to the alley.

  “That should buy us some time.”

  “Somebody was tracking you,” I said, realization dawning.

  He nodded. “That’s how they found your place.”

  “You knew that was gonna happen?”

  “No. Maybe they could have used CCTV to figure out what direction I went in, but that would have taken more time and isn’t nearly as precise.”

  “But a tracker on your cell phone—”

  “Exactly.”

  His body was still, and he was even more preternaturally calm than he had been before.

  So calm that I was actually afraid.

  “So, those guys at the club. Plus this. Somebody’s after you.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “You know who it is?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I will.”

  “And then?”

  He had been looking toward the mouth of the alley, following the dump truck as it drove down the street, but at my question, he faced me.

  His eyes were dark, glittering, and everything in his body seeming coiled, like a cobra waiting to strike.

  “I’m going to kill them.”

  Eight

  Ivan

  I realized after I spoke that perhaps that wasn’t the wisest thing to say, even if it was the truth.

  But then, after what Tru had seen today, it couldn’t have come as a surprise to her.

  Apparently, it didn’t.

  She gave no visible reaction other than a shrug.

  “So, you’re meeting someone at 21st and Second?” she said.

  “No, we’re meeting someone at 21st and Second.”

  The question had reminded me of what she had said earlier, and I again got angry.

  Someone was after me, someone with access and balls, but I was preoccupied with what she had said, with the very idea that she believed I would leave her alone, ditch her to save my own ass.

  Did she really think so little of me?

  Had I given her reason to think otherwise?

  I didn’t know the answer to that question, or if I did, didn’t want to acknowledge it. But whatever I might have done in the past, I wouldn’t abandon her now.

  That might complicate things, but taking care of Tru was my number one priority.

  “Someone you trust?” she said.

  “Not exactly. But he’s the best option in this situation.”

  I hoped that was true.

  Everything was uncertain, but my gut had never led me astray, and given that I didn’t know what was going on, it was the only thing I had to guide me.

  So, I went with it.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Tru and I set off and made the long walk in silence.

  I would have preferred to get a car, especially since it was so early and the streets were so empty, but I had more maneuverability on foot and didn’t want to be trapped anywhere.

  As the sun started to rise and more people hit the streets, I relaxed ever so slightly.

  None of this was ideal, but at least there would be some semblance of cover now.

  We reached the destination, but I kept going and circled the block a couple of times.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “That.”

  I spotted a dark town car and headed toward it.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  I opened the rear passenger door and got inside then gestured Tru to get after me.

  She had barely closed the door before the driver pulled off.

  “Ezekiel,” I said.

  He looked at Tru through the rearview then locked icy-blue eyes with mine before looking back toward the road.

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “No. I didn’t. Should we would be having this conversation right now?” he said, looking at Tru again in the rearview.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her frown, but I kept focused on Ezekiel.

  “Yeah. It’s fine.”

  “Whate
ver you say, boss,” Ezekiel said, his sarcasm impossible to miss.

  “Yuri?” I asked, concerned for my cousin.

  “Holed up with a gram of coke and two strippers,” Ezekiel said.

  “He’s fine then,” I said, and Ezekiel nodded.

  “So, news is out?”

  “Yeah. Everyone knows what happened. Five of your guys dead at the nightclub and you nowhere to be found. You being dead—or in process of getting that way—seems like a natural conclusion.”

  “And is that what the word is?”

  “Yep. Conventional wisdom seems to be shaping up that way.”

  “Who’s looking to step into the void?”

  “No one yet.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  “Wait a second,” Tru said.

  She looked at Ezekiel and then looked at me.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re sad because nobody is taking credit for having killed you?”

  “Yes. Because whoever takes credit first is most likely the one who orchestrated this.”

  “I guess.”

  “You disagree?” I asked, not missing the question in her voice.

  “I don’t know anything about this.”

  “But you have thoughts. Share them.”

  “I mean, I guess it makes sense, because whoever steps up would know that you’re dead. But whoever orchestrated this knows you’re not because they came for you at my place. And besides, would it make sense to stick your head up first if you’re behind this? I assume you have allies—or whatever the organized crime equivalent is.”

  “Some.”

  “So, at least out of some sense of loyalty to you, or maybe just to send a message, wouldn’t they want to take out the person who claimed responsibility?”

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  “Then whoever’s behind it would wait, let that initial stuff get settled, then step in.”

  “Yeah. I’d considered that. But I need something to go on.

  “So, who could have access to your phone?”

  “Your phone?” Ezekiel said.

  He was driving but with no particular destination in mind. He was smart enough to know that right now, moving was the best option.

  “Yeah. Somebody put a tracker on me.”

  “Fuck. You think it was one of your guys?”

  “Maybe.”

  “A girlfriend?” Tru suggested.

  She didn’t have any particular inflection in her voice, and I couldn’t tell if it was a fishing expedition, a genuine question, or maybe even both.

  “No girlfriends.”

  She looked relieved, and I allowed myself a small smile. But then it was back to business.

  “So, you got some shit to sort out. Why did you call me?” Ezekiel said.

  “You hate my guts.”

  “I don’t know what gave you that idea,” he said.

  “You haven’t made any secret of it. Especially after your demotion.”

  “No. I guess I haven’t made any secret of it. Ten years driving cabs and picking up cash as atonement for somebody else’s sins is total bullshit.”

  “Somebody else’s sins? I believe you had your role to play in what happened. And besides, you took your punishment, this work that was far beneath you, without so much as a peep,” I said.

  “Maybe I’m just dumb ass,” Ezekiel grumbled.

  “No. I haven’t quite figured out what you are, but you’re not that. And right now, you’re the closest thing I have to an ally.”

  “There’s someone else you could call.”

  I’d considered it and was considering it again.

  Aras owed me, and maybe it was time to collect.

  “Fine. You can get in touch with him?”

  “Yes.”

  Ezekiel pulled over and then met my eyes in the rearview.

  “No tricks, Ivan.”

  “Are you making demands?” I asked.

  “Yes. Swear on her life that you aren’t going to kill him.”

  Further proof, not that I needed it, that Tru was my Achilles’ heel.

  Ezekiel could see that too, and while he might have been smarter than most, I knew that my weakness for her was something I couldn’t hide.

  “I swear.”

  Tru

  “That’s not too tight, is it?” Ezekiel asked.

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  “Okay. I’ll try to make this quick.”

  I listened as he closed the door, unable to see anything through the blindfold that he had secured over my eyes.

  Ivan had protested, but I had eventually made him see reason.

  Which actually should have been impossible.

  I was so far out of my depth here I didn’t really have the words to describe it, but this Aras person could help, and I wouldn’t let Ivan’s pride get in the way of that.

  “You do know this is ridiculous, don’t you?” Ivan said, contempt clear in his voice.

  “Maybe. But I don’t make the rules.”

  “I’ve been to his house before.”

  “That may be the case. But I’m bringing you to him, which means we do things my way.”

  “This is bullshit,” Ivan muttered, but he didn’t say anything else.

  And we continued on, the weirdness of the sensation of being blindfolded gradually wearing off.

  I assumed the tinted windows kept us obscured, but I tried to focus on what I was hearing, sounds of the city that soon faded and gave way to the smooth glide of highway.

  It was a gentle, lulling sensation, one that must have rocked me to sleep.

  “Tru.”

  I jumped to attention at the sound of my name and then reached up for the blindfold.

  “Can I take this off?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Ezekiel responded.

  I did, then immediately closed my eyes against the bright light.

  We had been driving for a couple of hours, or at least I assumed so based on where the sun was in the sky.

  I blinked, allowing myself to adjust to the light, and then looked around as I stepped out of the car.

  “This is beautiful,” I whispered, in awe of the scenery.

  We had left the city far, far behind and were in a heavily wooded area.

  The air smelled clean, almost sweet, the sounds of nature—birds chirping, living creatures scrambling in the underbrush—all of it giving me a sense of serenity and calm.

  “We have to walk a bit,” Ezekiel said, looking at me.

  “That’s fine,” I responded.

  A walk through this beautiful scenery would be nothing, not after I had run what felt like a million city blocks with bullets whizzing past my head and made a tense journey after that.

  I glanced over at Ivan, who looked even more out of place than I did in his suit, button-down, and loafers.

  But as always, there was a sense of ease, of calm and command about him, and even as he walked through the woods in five-thousand-dollar shoes, he seemed somewhat at home.

  “So, this person was going see. You have history?” I asked.

  Ezekiel had gotten up ahead of us, and though I suspected he could hear, my curiosity had gotten the better of me.

  Ivan looked at me, his expression somewhat clouded.

  “He killed my father.”

  “What?”

  “That night I left. He came to the house. Told me.”

  “He threatened you?”

  “No.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Sounds it,” I said, deciding to relent.

  Maybe he’d tell me more later, but for now, I didn’t want him to be distracted.

  “Just up here,” Ezekiel said.

  We went a bit farther and then came to a clearing.

  There was little garden, a table and chairs, and what looked to be children’s toys in one corner.

  I frowned, not sure what to make of this.

  I glanced over at Ivan who was taking in the place as well.

  Hi
s expression was stormy, and I couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking.

  Didn’t get a chance to try anymore.

  “Stop right there.”

  There was an urgency in Ezekiel’s voice that required me to listen.

  I stopped, glanced at Ivan, then looked toward the front door.

  It opened, and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at the man who stepped out.

  He was tall, heavily muscled, with a brownish-blond beard.

  Not handsome, but he had presence, and for a reason I couldn’t quite name, he reminded me of Ivan.

  “Ezekiel, you decided to drop by for a visit?”

  “Somebody here who needs to talk to you,” Ezekiel said. “But would you mind putting the gun away first?”

  I tensed at the mention of a gun and then looked around, realized that I hadn’t seen this new man’s left hand. He pulled the door open wider and then stepped out, holding the biggest gun I had ever seen in person.

  “Ivan and I should talk first.”

  Nine

  Ivan

  I wasn’t surprised, not really.

  What I knew of Aras left no doubt that he was cautious, and with me, he had every reason to be.

  I always tried to look forward, keep my focus on the future, but my mind turned to the past…

  Then

  Ivan kept his eyes on the man, careful not to look back at the bedroom. Tru was there, still sleeping, and Ivan would do whatever it took to make sure she stayed that way.

  The man studied him, and Ivan fought to keep his expression even. Nearly impossible, given how he burned with rage.

  “You have no idea who you’re fucking with,” Ivan said, realizing he was revealing more than he intended but unable to stop himself.

  “Don’t I, Ivan?” the man said, looking unimpressed.

  Ivan didn’t react to the use of his name, but hearing it helped clear his head.

  No one here knew him as anything other than Peter Anderson, so this man was from his other life.

  His real life.

  There were so many things to consider, like how this man had found him and what he intended, but Ivan didn’t think of them.

  No, he could only think of what he was losing.

  Who.

  Because on some instinctual level, Ivan knew everything had changed. He’d never planned to fall in love with Tru, but she’d wormed his way into his soul so deep that he’d been planning to do the impossible.