by Andrea Kane
“I promise,” Emma replied. She might be irked by the restrictions, but the flipside was nice. She now had a new family who actually cared about her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Vitaliy and Alexei were cut up into pieces and dissolved in acid before Slava returned to his hotel to check out and head to Upper Montclair. No more sloppy bullshit burials, like the one he’d done with Jim Robbins. Max was too fucking worried about extreme, time-consuming measures translating into capture. The truth was that acid eliminated evidence. Exhumed bodies told secrets. But Max had no experience with this kind of thing. Beneath his self-imposed ruthless exterior, he was nothing more than an inventor. Slava was a born killer.
The Passaic River had washed the last of Vitaliy’s and Alexei’s blood off his hands and arms. He’d yanked off his red-splattered T-shirt and soaked it in the river, as well. Then, he’d pulled on a casual sweater. His jeans were dark, so any trace of blood he’d missed would blend in with the denim and never be noticed.
He’d climbed into the van and driven back to his hotel, where he’d carefully showered away any last vestiges of the murders. He packed the sweater, T-shirt, and jeans in a plastic bag, which he shoved into his suitcase, donning a store-bought business suit before checking out. He scowled down at himself. The clothing wasn’t his taste. Everything he wore was custom-made, with style and flair. But it was imperative that he blend in with the crowd. And wearing this boring gray thing with its equally boring striped tie would ensure that no one remembered him.
He reached West Orange, New Jersey, as planned, making a few phone calls along the way to issue orders and ensure that his replacements for Alexei and Vitaliy were already stationed and doing active surveillance. Everything was in order. He’d expected no less. This time, he’d done the hiring. And the men he’d hired were skilled and hard-core. They didn’t make mistakes.
He checked into the Best Western he’d preselected using a pseudonym and the corresponding fake credit card. The place was as close to Upper Montclair as he could get without upgrading to a fancier hotel. It was about twenty minutes away by car and was large enough and populated enough for him to fly under the radar. He normally preferred first-class accommodations, but he wasn’t here for a vacation.
Traveling light—one suitcase and a suit bag—he got to his room and put out the Do Not Disturb sign before flipping the deadbolt. Carefully, he hung up his suit bag. His suitcase he simply tossed onto one of the double beds. He was tired and he was hungry. It was barely eight o’clock. His men were in place. He had time for a power nap and a big breakfast.
Then it would be time to get to work.
The train slowed and then finally pulled into the Upper Montclair station.
Emma rose and slung her gym bag over her arm. She was relieved to be here but a little nervous about the job ahead. She was a hell of an actress, but this was the real deal, not some con job. Like Casey said, there were lives at stake.
Patrick’s linebacker security guy, Brian Mason, had already closed his iPad, tucked it under his arm, and was ready to exit the train behind her. He’d been her shadow from the time she’d boarded the subway at Grand Street in Chinatown to the time she’d arrived at Penn Station and hopped the Montclair-Boonton line to Upper Montclair, to now, when she was about to disembark. He’d seated himself several rows back and diagonally across from her—a respectable distance away but one that could be spanned in a matter of seconds if need be. For the forty-plus minutes that they’d been on the train, he’d barely moved a muscle, ostensibly scrolling through something on his iPad throughout the trip. Emma wasn’t fooled. Every ounce of his attention had been focused on her. No one else would ever pick up on it; he was just that subtle.
Patrick never hired anyone but the best.
Emma stepped off the platform and gave a causal glance behind her to ensure that Brian was there. Of course, he was. She then began her short stroll, skirting around Bellevue Plaza until she hit the main drag and making her way the couple of blocks to Excalibur.
Lisa was wrapping up an aerobics class when Emma walked in. Still, she spotted Emma immediately, and her whole face lit up. She couldn’t finish her group’s cooldown stretches fast enough.
Emma grinned at her, then perched at the desk and waited. Brian was somewhere right outside the building. Idly, Emma wondered if he was wearing a Lycra outfit under his polo shirt and slacks, all prepped to burst into Excalibur and participate, if need be. The image almost made her dissolve into giggles. She knew he’d stay outside and watch the gym like a hawk. Still, the vision amused her enough to ease some of the tension from her body.
While she waited, she looked around the bustling gym, taking in the extensive and pricy equipment, inviting décor, and diverse activities going on—not to mention the dozens of members filling the place. Lisa and Miles had gone all out with Julie’s inheritance. This place was incredible. Kudos to them.
“Hey.” Lisa appeared at Emma’s side, greeting her as she wiped her face and neck with a towel. As casual as her motions were, the tension emanating from her body was palpable—as was her relief regarding Emma’s presence. There were stress lines etched across her forehead and dark circles under her eyes.
“Hi,” Emma replied, giving her a quick hug. “I love your gym. It’s awesome.”
“Thanks.” A hint of a smile. “We busted our asses to make it the go-to place in Upper Montclair. I’m proud of the outcome.” Lisa sucked in her breath. Clearly, the virtues of Excalibur were not the main thing on her mind right now. “Spin class starts in twenty minutes. Can we grab a couple of bottles of water and hang out in my office till then?”
“Great.” Emma was glad to be getting Lisa alone for a while—but not for the same reasons Lisa had in mind. No heavy conversation. Not now. The poor woman was a wreck. It was time for some nonsensical girl talk, a little bit of information and words of reassurance, and the promise that they’d get into an in-depth update when they got back to the apartment, so that Miles and Shannon could be in on the talk, as well.
Mentally, Emma reviewed the notes she’d taken, along with Casey’s instructions. Provide enough details to ensure peace of mind. The process would be like peeling back the layers of an onion. Start with the topical stuff. Pare slowly down to the heavier-duty data. And stop when your eyes started watering. Never forget that this was a need-to-know mission. Nothing about Maxim Lubinov or RusChem or the magnitude of the threat to their lives could be mentioned. Only the broader, more general realities, accompanied by a slightly more in-depth explanation.
Girding her loins, Emma took the bottle of water Lisa handed her and followed her into the back room that was her office.
“Sit.” Lisa shut the door behind her and gestured at one of the soothing-toned aqua chairs positioned across from her desk. She took the adjacent chair, rather than using the one behind her desk. Clearly, she was opting to talk without the barrier of a large, solid object between them. It was hard enough to have a normal conversation with the combined sounds of blasting music and pounding feet emanating from outside her office walls. No point in adding distance and formality.
Emma sat down, grinning as she sank into the buttery soft leather. “Wow. These are awesome. But comfort? In a gym? I thought we were supposed to suffer, nonstop.”
Lisa managed a small smile. “Not at Excalibur. The experience is supposed to be adrenaline-pumping—and, yeah, somewhat body-pushing—but upbeat and addictive. My goal is always for clients to leave feeling great about themselves and the world.” Her smile vanished. “Maybe it’s my way of giving them a feeling I’m totally lacking these days.”
Emma felt a pang of sympathy and of admiration. Talk about coping with a positive spin. “It’s going to be okay, Lisa.” With a quick glance around, she amended, “Julie.”
Grimacing, Lisa uncapped her bottle and took a gulp of water. “At this point, I don’t even know who I am. I only know I’m caught in some terrifying trap, and I don’t know how to escape.
”
“It’s not your job to escape,” Emma replied. “It’s our job to give you back your freedom. And we will. We’ve got our FBI contact fully on board now. He’s a get-it-done guy, just like the rest of us. I can’t get into his exact role, because we owe him the same confidentiality we owe you. But he’s got skills, contacts, and experience. Trust me—he’s the best.”
Emma stopped to take a healthy swallow of her own water, using that time to regroup. The outer layer of the onion had just been peeled away.
It was enough for now.
No surprise that Lisa had other ideas.
“Can you tell me something about this FBI agent and what he’s doing on our case?” she asked, spreading her arms wide, palms turned up in frustration.
“Like I said, there’s not much I’m at liberty to say.” Emma shifted in her seat, gazing through the glass pane that separated Lisa’s office from the rest of the gym. “Plus, I don’t think we should get into anything heavy while we’re here. Not only is our privacy limited but we only have fifteen minutes. I’d rather just hang out and then have some fun with you and this spin class. Afterwards, we can grab some takeout, head back to your apartment, and get into your concerns when we’re all together. I promise I’ll tell you everything I can. Okay?”
“I guess that works.” Lisa sounded reluctant but resigned. “There’s a great Chinese place a block away if you like Chinese.”
“Like it? I’d kill for some General Tso’s chicken. Add some great house special fried rice, an egg roll, and a super-hot guy to pay for it, and my life is complete.”
Lisa began to laugh, and Emma gave herself a pat on the back. She knew that when she turned on her whole youthful enthusiasm thing, it was infectious. It also humanized her and inspired trust. She could already sense that Lisa’s paranoia about being kept out of the loop was abating. Emma had to capitalize on that, not only with Lisa but with Shannon, as well.
“Oh, Emma, you’re such a breath of fresh air,” Lisa said. “I can’t tell you how much this visit means to me.”
“Enough to pay for General Tso’s?” Emma’s eyes were twinkling.
“I’m not a super-hot guy,” Lisa reminded her.
“Oh, well. You can’t have everything.”
“No, you can’t.”
“But, hey, I’ll settle for a free meal anytime.”
A pained expression crossed Lisa’s face, and Emma recognized it immediately. She herself had worn it many times, and it had nothing to do with the investigation. “It never completely goes away, does it?” Lisa murmured.
“The memory of being on the streets and grabbing anything you can because you’re afraid it won’t come around again—including something to fill your belly and make that horrible gnawing pain disappear?” Emma was right there with Lisa, connecting in a way that few others could. “No, it doesn’t.”
Lisa fidgeted with her water bottle. “Julie paid for my lunch the day I met her. She watched me wolf down a burger and fries like some kind of wild animal, and she knew my whole resume was bullshit. What’s worse, I knew that she knew, but I didn’t care. I was just so hungry.” Glancing up, Lisa met Emma’s damp-eyed gaze. “She was very good to me, better than anyone had been in a long time. I relive that day, and the day she was killed, and I feel guilty all the time.”
Emma reached over and squeezed Lisa’s hand. “But now you know her death wasn’t your fault. No one was after you. They were after her.”
“I know.” A pause, and Emma got the feeling that Lisa was about to say something she’d thought long and hard about.
Her next words proved Emma right. But their content stunned the hell out of her.
“When all this is over, I’m going to do the right thing.” Lisa’s tone was firm. “I’m not going to run. Neither is Milo. I’m going to give Julie back her identity, and all the respect that goes with it. Shannon isn’t the only one who cared for her. Her other students, maybe a bunch of friends—they all did, too. She deserves to be mourned, not resented for taking off without a word. And, once Forensic Instincts exposes whoever’s running this PED operation, Julie can be acknowledged for the brave and heroic woman she was.”
Emma blinked. “Lisa,” she blurted out. “You understand what that means for you, right? Leaving the scene of a crime is a felony. So is identity theft, stealing someone’s inheritance…”
“And I’ll probably go to jail for it all,” Lisa interrupted to finish Emma’s thought. “I know. But I won’t go on living a lie. And I won’t let the world keep thinking the worst of Julie. She didn’t take off. She was murdered.”
Before Emma could respond, a buzzer went off on Lisa’s iPhone, and she rose from her chair. “Spin class time,” she said, striving for a lighter tone. “Time for me to see what you’ve got.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Slava had found a dirt alcove diagonally across from Julie Forman’s apartment building, where he’d parked the van. The area was concealed by trees and scarcely noticeable. He settled himself behind the wheel and opened a newspaper, looking as if he were hanging out waiting for someone—which, in fact, he was.
He had three quarries: Julie Forman, Shannon Barker, and whatever security team was keeping an eye on them. His own new hires were hovering around the gym. They’d informed him that the Forman woman was inside. Now they’d wait, advising him immediately if she left.
So for now it was the Barker girl and the bodyguards he was looking for—more the latter than the former. He doubted the Barker kid would be coming out anytime soon. After nearly being kidnapped, she was probably quaking inside Forman’s place. Plus, she probably didn’t have any great insight into what she was being protected from. Feds, cops, and PIs weren’t in the habit of briefing teenagers on anything more than the basics. At least one of them had to be armed and stationed either right outside or inside the apartment unit. There’d be another couple of them in or around the parking lot, keeping a watchful eye.
Not a challenge for Slava. He’d spot them. Analyze them. Pick out the weakest link. Then he’d wait until the guy was heading off for a break. He’d drag him into the van and use whatever methods of torture were necessary until he got his answers.
After that, he’d slit the guard’s throat and take care of his body before reporting back to Max.
He hunched down in his seat and waited.
Forty-five minutes later, his plans changed.
A phone call from his guys told him that the Forman woman was on her way home. And she had a friend with her.
Surveilling the guards could wait. Something better was being delivered right into his hands. This was going to be one hell of a party.
Lisa was actually laughing as she and Emma approached the apartment. They were carrying bags of tantalizing-smelling Chinese food, and Emma had her backpack slung over her arm. She was telling Lisa a story about when she was a kid and had bitten into one end of an eggroll, squirting its contents all over the waiter.
“I’d never tasted an eggroll before,” she was saying. “How did I know it was filled with so much stuff, or that the shell was so breakable?” She wrinkled her nose. “It blew out of the back end like a cannonball. The waiter stumbled backwards, then slipped and fell. He was okay—he got up in one piece—but he was gritting his teeth and spitting out words in Chinese. I’m sure he was swearing at me. Anyway, my parents didn’t punish me, but we never went back to that place again. I guess we weren’t welcome.”
“Yeah, I’d guess not,” Lisa agreed.
Both women dissolved into giggles as they walked through the parking lot and into the apartment building.
That fucking, fucking bitch.
Slava’s entire body was coiled with rage. It pounded through his body, coursed through his blood. He could barely see past it.
But he’d seen enough.
He’d known her the instant he saw her, even in her workout clothes, carrying that ridiculous backpack. And that voice—how could he forget it? It had haunted his
dreams and heated his loins since she’d promised to call him, walked out of the building, and disappeared off the grid.
No one deceived him like this. No one. He was too smart to be taken in by a slut who was really a cop. But he’d been thinking with his dick, not his brain. He’d bought her coffee. She’d walked out with the cup and probably his DNA. She knew who he was and what he was.
Well, he was about to know a hell of a lot more than her name.
Fuck the surveillance. Fuck the Forman woman and the Barker girl. Fuck all his strategic plans.
He was getting his hands on Isabella.
The Chinese food was consumed in record time.
As they ate, Emma explained to Lisa, Miles, and Shannon where things stood on the case—precisely the way Casey had told her to. She started with the fact that Shannon was part of a big medical experiment involving designer PEDs and a whole bunch of targets. Quickly, she reassured them that FI was on the brink of uncovering the mastermind who was orchestrating the whole operation, along with whoever he had working for him—and that included not just Shannon’s attempted kidnappers and those surveilling them but the Jim Robbinses all over the country, who were the reapers of this medical experiment.
Emma finished her update by giving her word to Lisa, Miles, and Shannon that this nightmare would be over in days, not weeks, after which they’d all be safe.
Of course they had questions. They wanted details about the monster running the show, about precisely how Forensic Instincts planned on bringing him down, and about how their mysterious FBI contact fit into the picture.
Emma deflected the questions by stressing the sensitivity of the situation and the need to keep them safe by telling them as little as possible.