“Hell no,” Stacy said. In the background, Dreya heard the distinct sound of a loudspeaker calling out operating hours of the TSA security checkpoints. “I’m sitting in a coffee shop at Reagan National. I’m going through security the second they open; then I’m going to disappear for a while. I know you were good friends with Rory, so I thought I should call and suggest that you do the same.”
“You have a little something set aside for a situation like this?” Dreya asked softly.
She and Stacy weren’t exactly friends, but she knew Rory had thought highly of the woman, which counted for something in Dreya’s book. If she needed money, Dreya would gladly give her some.
“Yeah. Rory had something set up for me just in case,” Stacy said. “I’ll be fine, more than fine in fact, but I don’t think I’m going to be coming back to DC for a while. Rory told me once that you had your own rainy day plans made. It might be a good time to buy an umbrella and take a vacation.”
Dreya thanked Stacy and hung up, then shoved her phone in her pocket. Jumping on a plane and getting the hell out of DC sounded like a rational idea, but she didn’t have the luxury of doing that. If Stacy left town, Thorn’s people would barely notice. But if Dreya, who was known in some circles as a top-level thief, suddenly disappeared, people would definitely notice, especially those who knew about her connection to Rory. Splitting town would be the equivalent of ringing a bell and announcing she was guilty, and Thorn’s goons would come running like Pavlov’s dogs. She was slippery and could probably stay ahead of them, but then she’d be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life.
Besides, she really didn’t want to leave her family. She wasn’t close with her parents and siblings, but they were still family. And now that Rory was gone, they were all she had left. She also wasn’t too keen on the idea of leaving her jewelry business behind. While she definitely didn’t need the money, she enjoyed the legitimate business she’d built.
If she was going to stay, she needed a plan. Unfortunately, she didn’t have one at the moment.
As she threw a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and picked up her helmet, she knew one thing for sure. She definitely couldn’t go back to her apartment or her shop—not until she figured out how to get off Thorn’s radar.
Chapter 10
Layla lay on the floor of the library watching as sunlight slipped through the cracks in the rubble above her and highlighted the dust motes floating through the air. At her side, Jayson was asleep, his breathing deep and relaxed. This had to be one of the most perfect mornings ever.
She wiggled over to Jayson, practically purring with pleasure as he wrapped his arm around her in his sleep and pulled her close. They fit together perfectly, like two spoons in a drawer. When she was in his arms, she could almost forget they were in a hostile, foreign city that was crawling with soldiers who would kill them on the spot, all while looking for a young woman no one had seen in days.
Hopefully, that last part would soon change.
Things hadn’t turned out as well as they’d hoped last night. If they had, she probably would have woken up this morning in a nice, soft hotel bed in Kiev beside Jayson with plane tickets for the States sitting on the nightstand. Dylan and his friends would have been back with their families, and Mikhail would no longer have a death sentence hanging over his head. Other than the fact that she had Jayson at her side and they’d discovered that they made an awesome team in the field, nothing else had gone according to the vague plan they’d been following.
Shortly after leaving the RSA building in their rearview mirror, Mikhail had given them directions to a warehouse large enough to hide the truck in. By the time the Russian teen and the others had gotten there, most of the more mobile prisoners she and Jayson had rescued were long gone. That had left them with those people too weak to walk on their own and the seriously wounded. Mikhail had come through for them again, knowing people who would not only take the injured locals in, but also help them get medical aid. That Russian kid was starting to impress the crap out of her.
Of course, Dylan had been devastated when he’d been told that Anya wasn’t in the RSA building. Like Jayson predicted, the diplomat’s son had wanted to immediately turn around and go back, sure they had missed her somehow.
Luckily, Mikhail had brought over the old man who had spoken to them in broken English back at the RSA. The man had wanted to tell them how grateful he was for what Layla and Jayson had done for him and the other prisoners. She couldn’t help but be curious about how a sweet, old man like him could have ended up locked in one of those cells, so she had asked.
“I would not give food in my store to the militia soldiers for free,” he said. “When I stood up to them and said they must pay, they beat me and took me away. They tell me they would release me if I promise to give them what they want, but I say no.”
“How long were you in there?” Jayson asked.
The old man shrugged. “Eight months or so.” That had shocked Layla even more than the reason they’d arrested him. “I am a stubborn old man who does not fear death. I would die before backing down from those pigs!”
“Did you see a Ukrainian girl named Anya in the cells?” Dylan had asked urgently. “It would have been about four days ago. She’s tall, with dark hair, and was wearing a bright red shirt when she was taken.”
The old man thought a moment. “I think maybe…yes. Over the last week, they bring several young girls in. One of them was wearing a red shirt. I remember because very few people wear red now. It draws too much attention. But she was only in the cells for a little while. Then the soldiers came and took her somewhere else.”
“Do you know where?” Mikhail asked.
But the old man hadn’t.
It had taken over an hour to get the old man and the last few prisoners somewhere they would be safe. By then, Layla and everyone else had been exhausted—and worried.
“I know a guy who might be able to help us find Anya,” Mikhail had said when they’d gotten back to the library. “He’s a cop, or at least he was before the militia came in and took over. He was a soldier in the Russian army before he was a cop, and has worked in this city for something like forty years, so he knows everything that goes on here. If there is anyone who would be able to tell us why the militia grabbed Anya and those other girls and where they took them, it would be him.”
“Why the hell didn’t you mention him before?” Dylan demanded angrily.
Mikhail shrugged and gave him a sheepish look. “I’m not exactly on the best of terms with the guy. He arrested me a few times. I would not willingly go to see him, but we have nowhere else to turn.”
Jayson had wanted to meet with the guy right away, but Mikhail had said no. “This man doesn’t like outsiders. I’ll take Olek and go talk to him first, convince him that you are really here to help. If I tell him what you did tonight, he might be willing to talk to you.”
“I’m going with you too,” Dylan had said firmly. “Anya is my girlfriend. We need to make him understand how important this is.”
Layla had heard him and the other teens leave thirty minutes ago.
