Chapter 42: Devil’s Lair: Chapter 42

“It all started when I drove home after my college graduation,” I say, trying—and failing—to keep my voice steady. “I was supposed to arrive in time for dinner, but the traffic was unusually heavy and I was almost an hour late. As soon as I found a parking spot in front of our building, I ran to the apartment, leaving my suitcase in the car. I figured I’d come back for it after we ate.

“I had my keys, so I came in and went directly to the kitchen, where I thought Mom was warming up some of the food. But when I got there—” I stop to swallow the lump threatening to overtake my throat.

“She was dead,” Nikolai guesses grimly, and I nod, hot tears stinging the back of my eyes.

“She was lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor, her wrists slit. I couldn’t feel a pulse, so I ran to get my phone—I was in such a rush I forgot my purse with the phone in the car. But before I could exit the apartment, I heard voices, male voices, coming from Mom’s bedroom.”

His eyes narrow dangerously. “They were there? In the apartment with you?”

“Yes. I jumped into the little closet niche by the door and hid behind the coats there. I saw them then. Two big men in ski masks. They exited the apartment, then immediately came back in. I heard them go back into the bedroom, and since I was right by the door, I ran. I ran down all five flights of stairs, and then I kept running until I got to my car.” I drag in a shuddering breath, shoving down the recollection of that mind-numbing panic, of hyperventilating and sobbing as I fought to jam my keys into the ignition.

Nikolai gives me a moment to compose myself. “What happened next?”

“I called 911 and drove to the nearest police station. I told them what happened, and they dispatched a unit to my apartment. But the killers were gone by then, and the police, they ruled it—” My voice breaks. “They ruled it a suicide.”

His eyebrows snap together. “I don’t understand. You told them about the two men? As in, filed an official police report?”

“I did. I told them about the masks and the guns with silencers and—”

“Guns with silencers?”

I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. I’m so cold my teeth are beginning to chatter. “I saw them, through the coats in the hallway. Well, technically, I spotted just one gun, but later, when I saw them again, there were two, so I assume—”

“Later?” His jaw flexes. “You saw them up close again?”

“Not up close, no. They were about a block away. It was after this.” I jerk my chin toward the laptop. “They ran after me, and I saw them. They each had a gun.”

“Ski masks too?”

“Yes.” I strain to recall the two figures, but other than their general size and the guns in their hands, they’re blurry in my mind. “At least I’m pretty sure.”

Nikolai’s gaze sharpens. “But not certain?”

“I… no.” Which is stupid of me. I should’ve been paying attention, should’ve memorized every tiny detail so I could—

“Was that the only other time you saw them? The only time they came after you?”

“No.” A shiver racks my body. “Not even close.”

His face is a mask of barely restrained fury. “Tell me everything.”

So I do. I tell him about the black pickup truck with tinted windows that nearly ran me down as I was coming out of the police station, and how it happened again in a Walmart parking lot barely an hour after I reported the first attempt. I tell him about the fire at the local motel where I booked a room to avoid sleeping in the apartment, and about a van that nearly ran me off the road once I was already on the run. I tell him about my narrow miss at an Airbnb in Omaha, where I stopped for some much-needed rest a couple of weeks ago, only to end up escaping through the window in the middle of the night when I heard scratching noises at the door.

“The lock. They were picking it.” Nikolai’s jaw is clenched tight. “If you hadn’t woken up—”

“Yes. And there were other instances where I thought they might’ve been close, like the time I spotted a black pickup with tinted windows pulling up to a gas station just as I was pulling out. I was so paranoid by then, though, that it could’ve been my imagination. Or maybe not. Maybe it was them. I don’t know. All I know is they kept coming after me, and the only thing I could do was keep moving. That is, until I ran out of money.”

“Which is when you came across my ad.”

“Yes.” I swallow thickly. “I’m sorry, Nikolai. I really am. I wasn’t thinking straight when I applied for the position. I was down to a few dollars, and I was terrified because they’d just found me again, and they were getting bolder, shooting at me in broad daylight. I’ll leave, I swear I will. You don’t even need to pay me for the week. I’ll find another job and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jerking up to his feet, he props his fists on the table and leans in. His voice is harsh. “I told you, you’re not going anywhere.”

I scramble to my feet and back away. “Nikolai, please. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to endanger your family. I’ll go today. Right now. Before they figure out I’m here and…” My heart climbs into my throat as he advances on me, eyes like fire and brimstone. “Please. I swear I—”

His hands close around my upper arms in an iron grip. “You’re not leaving,” he growls, and yanking me toward him, he crushes his lips to mine.