“Good luck, Christensen.”
“Thanks.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right choice. Stupid as hell, but right.”
I head for the door, the recording device heavy in my pocket.
Tomorrow, I will call Volkov and tell him I need work.
I will walk back into the world that destroyed my life once already.
And I will find out if love really is worth dying for.
THIRTY-TWO
tate
It’s beenthree days since Zane told me the truth about everything, since I walked away from him in that parking garage. I haven’t eaten or slept, still trying to convince myself I made the right choice.
The card sits on my kitchen counter next to my coffee mug. The elegant black print on cream paper glares back at me.
Viktor Petrov - Performance Consulting.
Every time I look at it, I hear Zane’s voice in my head.
“You would have done something stupid. You would have gotten yourself killed.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe I would have done something stupid.
But at least it would have been my choice.
That’s what keeps gnawing at me. Not just that he lied…although that was bad enough…but that he thought he had the right to make decisions about my life without telling me. The FBI, the syndicate, all of it happening around me while I stumbled through my days like a fucking puppet.
Well, I’m done being a puppet.
With a thundering heart, I pick up the card and dial the number before I can change my mind.
“Viktor Petrov,” the deep accented voice smoothly answers.
“It’s Tate Barnes. We need to talk.”
“Ah, Mr. Barnes. I was beginning to think you’d reconsidered our conversation.”
“I have reconsidered. That’s why we need to talk.”
“Of course. Shall we say Chez Laurent again? This evening, eight o’clock?”
“No. Somewhere public. Somewhere with people around.” I don’t trust this guy, and I want to make sure I’m not in some remote location in case shit goes sideways.
“As you wish. There’s a coffee shop on Union Square called Bluegrass Coffee. Do you know it?”
“I’ll find it.”
“Excellent. Eight o’clock then.”
The line goes dead. I put my phone down and look at my reflection in the black screen. Making that call doesn’t make me feel like I have any bit more control over my life.
If anything, I feel like I just lost whatever I had left.
