Vow of Justice

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Vow of Justice Page 7

by Lynette Eason

“Dating.”

  “Dating?”

  “You asked what I called it. I call it dating.” He slid a glance at her. “Although I’ll admit, I’ve picked up on the conflicting signals. Every time I would think we were getting closer, you’d back off.”

  She flinched and wondered if she should change the subject ASAP. Unfortunately, she didn’t speak fast enough.

  “I’ve never made any secret how I feel about you, Allie,” he said. “I thought you were starting to feel the same.”

  “I . . . I mean, yes, of course, I care about you.”

  “Ouch.”

  Allie groaned. “I can’t deal with that discussion right now. Maybe we should get back to the topic of Nevsky.”

  “Fine.”

  The word and his laser look conveyed the distinct message that they weren’t done with the previous topic.

  She cleared her throat. “If Nevsky wanted to hurt me, he’d go after the man he was under the impression that I was building a relationship with . . . as well as that man’s family, right?” She clasped her hands together and dropped her gaze to them. “Because going after what’s left of mine wouldn’t have any leverage.”

  “Tell me more about your family. You said they were dead.” Linc’s soft voice drew her eyes to his. Only to find she couldn’t read him.

  Thrown, she hesitated. He’d never hidden anything from her. She’d been the one with secrets. The past haunted her and she’d be the first to admit it. However, most of the time, she could keep the memories and the nightmares at bay. Talking about it always brought everything surging to the surface, making it hard to stuff it all back into the little compartment in her brain that allowed her to function.

  Unfortunately, now that she’d unlocked those emotions and memories, she had a feeling the lid wasn’t going to shut as easily this time.

  “Allie?”

  She jerked her gaze back to his.

  “You said they were dead.”

  “They are.” She huffed a small laugh and went to the window. The view was beautiful, peaceful. A direct contrast to her emotional state right now. “I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?”

  “For trying to live a life I was never meant to live.”

  He frowned. “Don’t talk in riddles.”

  “Sorry, Daria’s worn off on me.” She sighed and rubbed her palms together. “Look, we don’t have time for this. We need to figure out a plan to find Daria. She’s smart, but she’s still young and running scared from a father who won’t hesitate to torture her for the information she has on him.”

  “And then kill her when she gives it to him.”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “Okay, we’ll table the personal stuff for now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But we’re coming back to it.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “I never thought otherwise.”

  “As far as locating Daria, how did Nevsky find out about the evidence?”

  “He had to have heard us talking. Daria thought she was safe outside on her little balcony, but I’m guessing there was a mic out there—or Gerard told him. I know the guy is crazy about Daria, but it’s very possible he’s more concerned about his own neck and told Nevsky what Daria had done.” She sighed. “She shouldn’t have trusted him.”

  Linc nodded and rubbed his head. “So, how are we going to find Daria if you’re dead? In order to work this case effectively, you’ve got to come back to the land of the living.”

  For a moment, she simply thought. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I don’t know what to do. I think I need you to help me figure that out—and fast.”

  He blew out a low breath. “Let’s talk to Henry and see what the three of us can come up with together.”

  “You’re speaking to Henry?”

  He shot her a dark look. “Strictly on a professional level. But he’s not out of the doghouse yet.”

  8

  Linc pulled a chair up to the conference table at the temporary safe house and settled into it. Allie took the one opposite him, and Henry aligned himself next to Allie.

  Probably figured it was better to continue to keep some distance between him and Linc until things cooled off a little. At least he’d brought some decent food. Linc opened his box and pulled out half of his club sandwich. Allie did the same.

  “So,” Henry said with a sigh, “let me get this off my chest.” He glanced at Linc. “I’m sorry I let you believe that Allie was dead. I truly thought it best for you and your family, in addition to the fact that it would give us an advantage over Nevsky. As long as he believes she’s dead, he won’t see her coming.”

  Linc jerked a nod at the man. “I get that, but I wasn’t just grieving a partner.” He locked eyes with Allie and she swallowed, but at least she didn’t look away. Linc shook his head. “You’re my supervisor, Henry. I have to believe you have my back and my well-being in mind with every decision you make that’s related to me. This time I think you erred in judgment.”

  “Noted.”

  “Good. In spite of that, I think we both still have the common goal of bringing down Nevsky and his organization. So I can put aside my personal feelings.” Maybe. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, but he’d give it a shot. For now.

  “I can do whatever it takes,” Henry said.

  Allie shoved her sandwich aside, stood, and paced. “Guys, our main objective is Daria. To bring Nevsky down, we need her—and we need to find her before her father or one of his assassins does.”

  “Absolutely,” Linc said. “But let’s be honest, if we find Daria, Nevsky—or one of his assassins—probably won’t be far behind.”

  “Assuming we get to her first,” Henry said.

  “We have to.” Allie’s hands opened and closed at her sides, the only indication that she was stressed.

  “Exactly.” Linc leaned forward. “We’re going to need help.”

  “No help,” Henry said.

  Allie frowned. “Henry, we can’t do this with just the three of us.”

  “We have to. If word gets back to Nevsky that you’re alive, there’s no telling what he might do—or who he’ll do it to.”

  “You really expect that the three of us are going to take down Vladislav Nevsky when an entire task force hasn’t been able to do it?” Linc crossed his arms and glared at his supervisor, wanting to be petty and take back his words of being able to put aside his personal feelings. “I don’t mean to be insubordinate, but that’s not happening.”

  Henry’s gaze bounced between them until he finally sighed. He swung his keys around his forefinger, then dropped them on the table with a clunk. “I gotta stop doing that,” he muttered. “I’m going to leave them somewhere one day.” He put the keys back in his pocket and raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, you’re right. I’m just worried about tipping Nevsky off when we finally—through circumstances I wouldn’t have wished on anyone—have an advantage over the man. And since we’re here, I don’t want to lose that.”

  “Neither do we, but we don’t want to get killed either,” Linc said.

  “Of course not. You know me. I’m open. What do you suggest? Do you have a plan?”

  “Of sorts,” Linc said. “It needs some refining, but yeah.”

  “Refining how?”

  “I want to bring my family in on this. Since they’re the ones who’d be threatened, they should have a chance to go on the offensive, be a part of the plan to go after Nevsky and his organization.”

  Henry was shaking his head before Linc finished.

  “Yes, Henry,” Allie said. “That makes sense. But we’ll do all of this under the radar.”

  “How? You just said you wanted to bring in other people.”

  Allie rubbed her forehead and Linc wondered if hers was pounding as hard as his. “Okay,” she said, “what if I stay dead for the time being? That way Nevsky isn’t as alert as he would be if he knew I was alive and he’ll hopefully leave Linc’s family alone. We’ll
still have to keep agents watching their houses and make sure they have escorts to and from work, that sort of thing. At least for a while until we’re sure they’re not in danger.”

  Henry nodded.

  “And,” Allie continued, “being dead will allow me the opportunity to look for Daria without Nevsky looking for me.”

  Henry shook his head. “I really think you need to go underground and let Linc and me handle going after Nevsky.”

  “Not a chance.”

  He huffed a breath of impatience. “How are you going to be a part of looking for Daria without someone finding out you’re alive?”

  “Simple. I’ll use a disguise. I’ve changed my appearance before, I can do it again. Granted, it won’t include plastic surgery this time, but . . .” She winced.

  “What’s wrong?” Henry asked.

  “Just these stupid stitches. They’re driving me crazy.” She rubbed her shoulder. “Anyway, yeah. I can do a disguise. No one will ever recognize me.”

  Henry leaned forward, conceding with a slow nod. “Like the Paraplectana coccinella.”

  Allie rolled her eyes. “Yes, exactly like . . . that.” She paused. “You’re going to tell me what that is, right?”

  “It’s a special spider that uses its ability to look like a ladybug—which can be toxic to some predators—to scare them away.” At her blank look, he lifted a hand. “Just saying it’s a good defense mechanism.”

  Allie nodded. “Thank you, Henry. I’ve learned more about insects in the last year than I ever thought I’d need to know.”

  “Forget the bugs,” Linc asked. “What do you mean, plastic surgery?”

  At his question, Allie’s shoulders tensed. “The shooter punched my face. He broke my jaw, nose, and one cheekbone. I look quite a bit different than I used to.”

  Linc blinked.

  Henry glanced at Linc, then back to Allie. “You really think you can pull this off? Staying dead?”

  “I think I have to in order to protect Linc’s family and find Daria. And to keep Nevsky off guard.”

  “So, no telling Linc’s family then? We’re agreed?” Henry asked.

  Allie nodded. “For now. If we find that we’re going to need more help, then I’m fine with letting them in on it. And don’t forget, Daria knows I’m alive.”

  Henry dropped his chin to his chest. “That’s right.”

  “As do Dr. Forsythe and one nurse at the rehab place in Hilton Head,” Allie said. “But they wouldn’t have any connection to Nevsky or any reason to be in contact with me.”

  Linc frowned. “Rehab place?”

  Allie waved a hand. “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.”

  Henry ran a hand down his face and blew out a deep breath. “Yes, later. Okay, so Daria’s on the run for whatever reason. It’s not like she’s going to go looking for you.” He paused. “Or will she?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “But it’s a good question,” Linc said softly. “She knows where you live.”

  “I’m not sure that’s an issue,” Henry said with a wave of dismissal. “She ran from the scene, meaning she ran from you. Why would she go looking for you?”

  Allie bit her lip. “I don’t know, Henry. She hates her father. She’s smart and resourceful and I don’t want to underestimate her.”

  “Okay, I can put some people on your apartment. If she shows up there, I’ll get a call. But let’s deal with that later. For now, we need to assume that she’s not going to come looking for you. How are we going to find her?”

  “How about this,” Linc said. “I can enlist the help of my family and ask them to all be on the lookout for Daria without knowing all the details—or that Allie’s alive. They’re grieving her loss too, and will be happy to be involved with anything that’s going to get justice for her.” He wanted to berate Henry for his deception, but the truth was, he was beginning to see why the man had decided it might be the best route. In the end, when it all came together, Nevsky would be kept off guard and wouldn’t be constantly looking over his shoulder for Allie.

  “Now that we’ve got that settled,” Henry said, “let’s talk about where we might be able to find Daria. Where would she run to?”

  “I’m actually more interested in why she ran at the moment,” Allie said. “She was safe. She knew I was there and would take care of her. And yet she ran. Why?”

  “We’ve already been over that,” Linc said. “Something spooked her.”

  “But what?”

  “There’s no telling.” Linc looked at Henry. “Is there any security footage we could pull from that building? We noticed the outside cameras before the raid. Can we get into his system?”

  “I’ve already requested the footage,” Henry said. “Interestingly enough, there weren’t any cameras inside.”

  “Good. Then we don’t have to worry about Nevsky seeing me on the footage,” Allie said.

  “Exactly.” Henry rubbed a hand over his tired face. “When I have the footage from the outside cameras, I’ll let you know and we’ll take a look at it.”

  “Great,” Linc said. “So, for now, where’s Allie going to stay? She can’t go home.”

  “She can stay with me,” Henry said, turning to her. “I mean, if you want. Otherwise, we can do a hotel or something.”

  “No,” Allie said, her eyes shadowed. “I have to go home.”

  Linc frowned. The way she said it held more meaning than she just wanted to go home. “Why?”

  “I’m assuming that if I’m dead, someone’s going to clean out my apartment at some point. I have files and other things related to a case that I can’t have anyone else seeing.”

  “I can clean that out for you,” Henry said.

  “No.”

  Henry blinked at her whip-snapped word.

  She cleared her throat. “Thanks, but no. I can get in and get out and no one will know I’ve been there. Trust me, I had to figure that out unless I wanted to get stuck talking to one of the residents every time I walked out my door.”

  Henry laughed—short and humorless. “Absolutely not. If you enter the apartment and someone notices—regardless of how sneaky you think you are—you’ll cease to be dead.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Linc said. “I’ll make sure I’m visible. No one would question her partner being there and taking care of things for her.”

  “No one would question her supervisor either, probably.” Henry pulled his keys from his pocket, spun them on his finger, then slid them back. “But you do it your way.”

  Allie gave a slow nod. “That’ll work, especially if you run into Mr. Carter—which you will. He’s a retired police officer and makes no secret he keeps an eye on everything that goes on at the complex. And, if you don’t live there, once he has a description of you, the whole place receives an email with every last bit of information he can pull about you.”

  Henry groaned. “How did I wind up supervising the two most stubborn agents in the entire Bureau?”

  “You must have made someone mad,” Allie deadpanned.

  “Yeah, who’s got it in for you?” Linc asked.

  Henry scowled. “Get out of here, you two. Just be careful and make sure Allie isn’t caught rising from the dead.”

  Allie stayed in the shadows of the trees behind her apartment, watching. Linc would enter through the front door, talking to anyone he saw on his way in to make sure there was no reason for someone to question him being in Allie’s home.

  When she’d picked the place, it had been for its convenient location near the office, but she had to admit, she’d very much enjoyed her nightly habit of slipping out onto the screened porch and letting the stresses of the day roll from her shoulders as she stared out into the wooded area.

  On the porch, wrapped in the blanket of darkness, she’d found she didn’t mind being so alone in the world. And it was there she’d had some of her most intense discussions with God. Okay, arguments, if she was honest. And begging. Lots of pleading for G
od to let her find Radchenko and Nevsky—and answers to questions that had been burning a hole in her mind for fifteen years.

  But apparently God had gone deaf, because her desperate requests had gotten her nowhere. Or maybe he’d just gotten tired of her whining and was ignoring her.

  Allie focused on the kitchen window, awaiting the all clear from Linc. Finally, the shade went up and she bolted across the grassy area to the six concrete steps. Taking them two at a time, she reached her screen door, then opened the back door and slipped inside her first-floor apartment. She shut the door behind her and threw the dead bolt. When she turned, she found Linc studying her hallway. Every so often he’d take a step to the left and continue his perusal. In silence, she joined him.

  For the next four minutes, he went from picture to picture, until he reached the end, then met her gaze. “Your own personal crime scene wall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your family?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you look at these every day?”

  He was referring to the pictures of her father and sister, dead. Her father lay in the bed he’d shared with her mother, on his face, hands above his head and a bullet in his skull.

  And her little sister, sprawled indignantly on the hall floor, the back of her head bleeding from the bullet the killer had put into it without hesitation.

  “No. Not every day.” Just most days. She didn’t miss her father, but her baby sister . . . She cleared her throat, pushing away the grief that was never far away. “Did you see anyone on your way in?”

  “Just the guy you warned me about. Roland Carter.”

  She nodded. “Then the whole complex will know within the hour that you’re here.”

  “I thought for sure you were exaggerating.”

  “He’s very protective of his residents, and if there’s a stranger in the midst, then . . . yeah. And he has a group text he moderates.”

  “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

  “He’s a retired cop with a lot of time on his hands.”

  “Right.” He pointed to a picture of a smiling young man holding a football under one arm. The name Gregori Radchenko had been written across the bottom of the photo. A bull’s-eye had been drawn on his face. “The teenager who killed your family?”

 

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