Vow of Justice

by Lynette Eason

  “Hurry up, Allie, you’re taking too long.”

  “I’m fine. According to Daria, Nevsky’s not due back for a while.” Finally, at the last folder, she opened it and gasped.

  “What is it?” Linc asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, but you’re not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re watching you.” Quickly, she worked her phone’s camera. “And sending pictures to Nevsky.”

  “Me? Why would they be watching me?”

  “I don’t know.” She paused and bit her lip. “Unless my cover is blown and they’re trying to figure out who I’m communicating with.”

  The next picture sent her reeling. “He’s got a picture of us together. The date stamp is from a week ago. It’s when we met with Henry at the hotel in Irmo.”

  “You need to get out of there.”

  Allie’s stomach twisted. “He’s got pictures of your family too,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “You and Brady and Chloe playing basketball in your parents’ drive. The dates on the pictures are from last Sunday afternoon.” Terrifying, but still not what she was searching for.

  And another picture of her and Linc sitting on his parents’ back porch swing. Stomach in knots, she shoved everything back where she found it and went to the next drawer. Locked.

  “He probably thinks we’re a couple, Linc. And he most likely knows who I am.” Or at least that she was there under false pretenses. So why was she still alive? Something was off.

  “Allie—”

  She slid the specialized knife from her front pocket and opened the tool that would give her access to the lock. Within seconds, it popped and she pulled the drawer open. More files. She opened the one on top. “Oh my,” she whispered.

  “Allie.” Henry’s voice came through her earpiece this time. “Put everything back now and leave.”

  “He’s got a whole list of military equipment for sale,” Allie said. “Where would he be getting that stuff?” She snapped pictures, then shoved everything back where she found it. She stood there for a moment while she sent the pictures to Henry.

  “Get. Out. Of. There. Now,” Linc said. “Walk out of the house and head to the van.”

  “Working on it.”

  The door to the office opened.

  Allie jerked her head up. “Uh-oh.”

  2

  Uh-oh?” Sitting in the command van a short distance from the estate, Linc felt his heart take a nosedive. “Allie, there’s no ‘uh-oh’ in undercover work.” He paused. “Allie?”

  “Daria,” Allie said.

  “What’s she doing?” Henry leaned in with a frown.

  Linc shook his head.

  “What are you doing?” the teen asked.

  “I was just looking for—”

  “Looking for what?”

  “Good question, my daughter.”

  Linc froze at the second voice.

  Henry snapped his head around to lock eyes with Linc. “That’s Nevsky.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s not supposed to be there.”

  “I know that too. He must have slipped in the back somehow.”

  “What, may I ask,” came the deeply accented voice through their earpieces, “do you think you will find to cook in here?”

  Henry went to work, ordering a team into place in case they had to go in and get Allie.

  “Hello, sir,” Allie said. “The door was open and I thought—”

  “You thought?”

  “Well, that I might find some cash in your desk.”

  Silence.

  “You admit you were going to steal from me?”

  Linc flinched at the outrage in the man’s voice. If he hadn’t been so worried about Nevsky’s unpredictable nature, he would have rolled his eyes at the irony.

  “Steal?” Allie squealed. “What? No way! No, no, no. I wanted to make a surprise dish for you tonight, but I used all the grocery money you gave me for this week because you have that big party coming up, so I thought I might find some in your desk. I was going to leave you a note. I’d never steal from you, I promise.”

  “I told her you kept some cash in your desk, Papa,” Daria said.

  “I see. How did you get in?”

  “The door was cracked,” she said. “Like it wasn’t shut well when someone left. I was truly surprised to find it open because it never is, and well . . . I guess I just decided to check your desk as a spur-of-the-moment thing.” A pause. “I’m sorry. I know how this looks. I’ll . . . I’ll go pack my things.” The utter dejection in her voice shot Linc’s admiration level rocketing upward.

  “No!” Daria cried. “Papa, she wasn’t going to steal. She wouldn’t do that. She’s only here because of me. Please, don’t send her away.”

  Henry raised a brow at Linc. “Allie’s talent is wasted with the FBI. She should be onstage somewhere.”

  Silence. Then, “Fine. You will stay,” Nevsky said.

  “His accent just got a lot stronger,” Linc murmured. He also had his mic on mute. “What does that mean?”

  “He’s undecided,” Henry said. “He’s not quite sure what to do.” He slammed a fist into his open palm. “This isn’t the way this was supposed to go down.”

  “I know, Henry, I know. Just hold tight.”

  “I—I don’t understand,” Allie stammered. “You think I was going to steal from you, but you want me to stay?”

  “I’m not sure, but Daria says you were not.”

  “Since when has he put any stock into what Daria thought?” Linc muttered.

  A pause. “What were you going to cook for me?” Nevsky asked.

  “Daria said you loved a well-done baklava,” Allie said, “but that no one ever gets the crust flaky enough for you. I can do that and wanted to do so as a surprise, but I didn’t have any money.” She paused. “I’m terribly sorry.” Linc heard the tears in her voice.

  “Then do it,” Nevsky said. “Order what you need and have it delivered. I’ll have James pay for it.”

  “Of course.”

  Linc leaned back and rubbed a hand down his face. “No way he’s letting her off. I’m not buying it.”

  “Me neither. We’ve got to get her out of there.”

  Allie followed Daria back into the kitchen, slipping the flash drive into her pocket. She’d barely had time to pull the device and slap the laptop shut before Nevsky appeared in the doorway. But Daria had seen her do it. The girl went to the counter, opened the slow cooker, and stirred.

  “Thank you,” Allie said softly, keeping her voice low enough so that it wouldn’t trigger the voice-activated recorder on the cameras. “Why’d you lie for me?”

  For a moment, she wondered if Daria would answer her. Finally, the teen turned and the look in her eyes chilled Allie. “Because,” Daria said, her voice barely there as well, “if he believed you were stealing from him, he would have killed you right there.”

  All traces of the happy, childish teen were gone and goose bumps pebbled Allie’s skin. “I wasn’t stealing from him. Exactly.” Unless one counted taking information as stealing.

  “Then you were looking for something.”

  “I . . .” Allie paused. For some reason, her instincts were telling her not to lie. And yet, that’s what she should do. “I’ll have to explain later.” Nevsky knew who she was. It was time for her to find a way out.

  With a frown, Daria checked the food in the oven and Allie pulled the kitchen laptop in front of her, praying Daria wouldn’t push for more. She scrambled for something normal to say. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “I couldn’t help noticing. Why does your dad have so many EpiPens?” The teen laughed, a sincere chuckle that sent Allie’s brows up to her hairline. “Why is that such a funny question?”

  “I think bees are the only thing he’s actually scared of. When he was ten, his older brother, my uncle who was fourteen at the time, thought he’
d be smart and knock down a hornet’s nest. He was stung several times and died.”

  “Oh, how awful!”

  “Agreed. My mom told me the story before she died. But now my dad thinks every bee is out to get him and refuses to be without at least two EpiPens within reaching distance—just in case one doesn’t work, you know. All of his bodyguards are required to carry them. There are two things my father is OCD about . . . his EpiPens and his privacy.” She rolled her eyes as only a seventeen-year-old can do.

  It made sense. Allie turned back to the laptop. Except . . . Nevsky hadn’t had a password on the laptop in his office.

  “What are you doing now?” Daria asked, her voice at normal volume.

  “Ordering the supplies for the baklava.”

  Daria’s jaw sagged. “You mean you’re not leaving?”

  “Not at the moment. Not until I make sure you’re okay with everything that just went down.” But Nevsky would know she knew that he knew. Maybe. Regardless, the clock was ticking and she had to leave.

  The girl rushed over to hug her, and just like that the teenager was back. Daria glanced toward the hallway, then at the kitchen door that led to the ten-car garage. “Come with me,” she whispered close to Allie’s ear.

  “Where?”

  “To the pool house. I want to show you something—then you’re going to have to leave.”

  Daria started to lead Allie from the kitchen when one of Nevsky’s bodyguards stepped into the room. “No one leaves the house for now.”

  “Why?” Allie asked. Okay, definitely time to get out.

  “The groceries will be here shortly, remember?”

  “I think we’ll hear the bell,” Daria said. “It rings in the pool house too, remember?”

  Her sarcasm didn’t faze him. “Nevertheless, she doesn’t leave the main house.”

  Daria crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. “It’s just the pool house, James.”

  James Killian. Bodyguard to Nevsky and suspected assassin when Nevsky needed someone dead.

  Like her?

  “No. Your dad’s orders. Sorry.” He sounded anything but.

  Daria placed her hands on her hips. “Where’s Gerard?”

  “On business for your father.”

  A chill swept over Allie. It had probably only been Daria’s presence that kept Nevsky or Killian from shooting her on the spot. That, and it would have messed up his nice Oriental rug. He was biding his time. When she and Daria went their separate ways, things would get ugly.

  “Fine.” Daria rolled her eyes. “We’ll go up to my room.”

  James’s hooded eyes glittered ice.

  Daria gripped Allie’s fingers and pulled her from the kitchen.

  “Daria—”

  Daria’s grip tightened and she held a finger to her lips.

  Allie went silent.

  When Daria led her into the bedroom on the second floor, Allie shut the door behind her. Not a typical teen’s room, her walls held maps and navigational paraphernalia she’d collected while traveling with her school or her mother before the woman had died. A picture of Daria with her crossbow standing over a deer sat on her dresser. The cabin in the background reminded Allie of the one she and her family had stayed at one summer.

  Another frame held a photo of her and Gerard. And then the artwork. The girl was seriously talented. “Daria, what are you—” Allie tried again.

  Daria shook her head and grabbed her laptop from the desk, then crooked her finger to Allie, motioning her to follow. She went to her window and shoved it open. She climbed out and Allie followed her onto the small balcony.

  “Now we can talk,” Daria said after shutting the window.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I know things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how to get around the cameras and listening devices all over this house. Along with the fact that my father is a murderer and someone needs to stop him. I think you’re trying to do that.”

  Allie stilled. Could Nevsky have put his daughter up to this to smoke Allie out? But he hadn’t been alone with her since the office incident. Still . . . “I don’t think you should say those kinds of things about him.”

  “Why not? It’s true. Aren’t you an undercover fed?”

  Allie gaped. Linc’s strangled gasp echoed through her earpiece.

  A huff of impatience escaped Daria. “You feds. You’re smart, but you’re not invisible.” She nodded to Allie’s ear. “Your friend—partner? He’s listening in, watching your back, right?”

  Another nod from Allie. She wouldn’t admit anything out loud.

  “And you’re investigating my father, looking for something to use against him, right?”

  “Uh . . . wow.”

  “I’m young, I’m not stupid.”

  “No, you’re definitely not stupid.”

  “The blender in the kitchen convinced me. My father’s a murderer and I can prove it.”

  “Daria . . .” Allie drew in a deep breath. It was time to take a chance and pray it didn’t get her—and Daria—killed. “How?”

  “I know the code to access the security footage. I have him on camera committing murder, and I’ve got still shots of every person who ever walked into this house. Easy for your facial recognition software. Everything around here is recorded. Audio, video. Everything.”

  “Including me in the office?” Allie asked even while she processed what Daria was telling her. This child could take down her father’s entire organization and send him to death row. What the girl had done. If Nevsky found out . . .

  “No. That and his bedroom are the only rooms he keeps ‘bug free.’” Her fingers wiggled air quotes around the last two words.

  Then Nevsky wouldn’t know what she’d been doing in there. Or that she knew he was aware of the reason she was in his house. Unless Daria was wrong. “What about my bedroom and yours?” She’d swept hers when she first moved in and hadn’t found anything.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I didn’t want to take a chance by talking inside.”

  But Allie using the key to enter the office would prove she’d lied about the door being open. Linc and Henry were right. She needed to get out of the house, and soon—and she needed to take Daria with her. “We need to get out of here.”

  “I can’t leave. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if I leave, he’ll kill Gerard,” Daria said. “He’s been more of a father to me than Vladislav, that’s for sure. And for all his loyalty to my father, I won’t let that happen.”

  Allie groaned, conflicted about what to do next.

  Daria opened the laptop and clicked her keyboard with all the confidence and skill of a professional.

  “What are you doing?” Allie asked, still trying to formulate a plan that ended with her and Daria somewhere safe.

  “I can erase the footage of you going into his office,” the teen said. “He’ll know you didn’t find the door open. How’d you get the key?”

  The girl continued to stun. Allie shot her hand out to stop her. “I finally managed to make a copy from your father’s. Would have been easier if he’d just left it in the plant next to the door like I do,” she muttered.

  Daria raised a brow, her expression slightly bemused. “You’re an agent with the FBI and you keep your spare key in a plant? You couldn’t be more creative than that?”

  “It worked for the moment.” Allie hesitated. “If you ever need a safe place to go, remember this address.” Breaking every rule in the book, Allie gave it to her—ignoring Linc’s soft protest—and Daria repeated it back to her. “Good. Use the key and let yourself in.”

  “Okay. Thank you,” Daria said.

  “Now let’s focus.”

  The girl frowned. “I still think I should take the footage off.”

  “No. I can guarantee you that your father’s going to go back and look at that footage, and if it doesn’t show me entering, he’ll realize some
thing’s off—and he may suspect you.”

  “But he’ll see.”

  “It doesn’t matter. He knows who I am anyway,” she said. “It’s the only way to keep you safe. Please. Don’t touch it.”

  Daria dropped her hands from the keyboard. “I’ve had the evidence for a while. I’ve just been waiting for the right person to give that copy to, the right person to trust.” The old eyes in her young face met Allie’s. “I think that person is you.”

  “Who did you see him kill?” Allie asked.

  Tears sprang into Daria’s eyes, but her expression never wavered from cool indifference. “A guy I liked. We ditched the bodyguards and went dancing. My father didn’t appreciate it.”

  “What was his name?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Sick certainty curled in the pit of Allie’s stomach. “He made you watch, didn’t he?”

  Daria didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. “From that point on, I decided to do everything I could to make sure he landed in prison.”

  Allie’s heart broke for the girl.

  “Allie?”

  Linc’s voice in her ear startled her. “Yes?”

  “Things are mobilizing at the house. Activity outside is picking up. Get out now.”

  Allie caught Daria’s confused look and pointed to her ear, silently confirming Daria’s earlier guess that she was a fed.

  “Allie, you need to run!” she said, her eyes on the window.

  “Allie!” Linc’s voice had a stronger edge. “Get out of the house or I’m going to have to come in.”

  “They’re in the bedroom,” Daria hissed.

  Allie looked over the side of the balcony. It was a long way down. Three long stories down. The landing would most likely include some broken bones—or death. But it would be better—and quicker—than being killed by Nevsky’s hand.

  Daria’s hand gripped hers and tugged. “Go up.”

  “What?”

  “On the roof. Use the chair and pull yourself up. You can go to the other side and drop down to each roof covering the balconies and then land in the grass by the pool. That’s when the cameras will pick you back up. The gate code is 4786 to get out. It’s the same for both gates.”