“Probably one of Vero’s friends. Thanks for the ride. I’ll call you later.”
I fished the kids out of the back seat and punched in the code for the garage door. Vero’s Charger was there, but my van was gone.
Vero sat at the kitchen table eating the last of the Oreo cookies from the bag. Zach took off like a bullet to the playroom, peeling out of his coat as he ran. I picked Delia’s off the floor and slung itover a chair, waiting until they were safely out of the room before asking, “Where’s the van?”
She glanced at me over her glass of milk. “Ramón’s waiting on some parts. He gave you a loaner until they come in.”
My pent-up anxiety slipped out on a long, tired breath. “That was nice of him. So what’s the bad news?” I sat across from her as she pushed a receipt across the table.
“It needs a lot of work.”
I skimmed the invoice. The only surprising thing on it was the bottom line. “Ouch.”
She sucked down the last dregs of her milk and set down her glass with a dispirited sigh, as if she wished she’d dunked her cookies in something stronger. “The good news is that we won’t have any problem paying him.” Vero got up and fished a fat ziplock bag from the freezer. She dropped it on the table with an icy thunk.
The hair on my arms stood on end. “What’s that?” The contents of the bag were rectangular and green, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t frozen spinach.
“I met with Irina. I tried to explain. I told her that we made a mistake—that we didn’t realize who her husband was. I told her the job was too dangerous and we were returning the advance. She thought it was a ploy to renegotiate and get more money out of her since we figured out who Andrei works for and how much he’s worth. So she doubled the amount of the offer and refused to take no for an answer.”
I sank into a chair, the room wobbling. “No. No, no, no, no, no!” I pressed my fingers into my temples and shook my head. Vero’s voice rose over the screams in the back of my mind, that this could not actually be happening.
“I tried, I swear, Finlay! I practically shoved the money in her hand, but she wouldn’t take it. She says she doesn’t care how you do it, but she wants it done. Soon.”
I lowered my voice so the children wouldn’t hear. “Andrei Borovkov is a cold-bloodedprofessionalmurderer! Have you googled him? He was arrested last year for burning a man alive! Six months ago, he was charged with dismembering some guy in a parking lot and shooting all the witnesses, execution-style. And let’s not forget the three men found with their throats slashed in a warehouse in July!”
“He wasn’t convicted of any of them,” she said defensively. “Maybe he’s not as dangerous as he sounds.”
“He got off because someone mishandled evidence, Vero! Because Feliks Zhirov has cops in his pocket! How the hell am I supposed to kill an enforcer for the mob?”
“I asked Irina the same thing. She said you’ll come up with something. You just need the right motivation.” Vero’s complexion turned a little green, her dry lips speckled with Oreo crumbs.
“And what’s that?” I snapped. “More money?”
“Not exactly.”
She stared numbly at the empty package of Oreos, and a cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach. “What kind of motivation?”
“We take care of her husband in the next two weeks, or…” Vero’s throat bobbed with her hard swallow.
“Or what?”
Her eyes shimmered with fear as they lifted to mine. “Or Irina will tell her husband we stole the money. And then she’ll send him to find us.”
CHAPTER 26
There was only one thing to do about Irina Borovkov, and that was to talk with her face-to-face like adults. No more middlemen. No more disguises. No more envelopes full of cash. I would simply explain that Patricia had been mistaken when she’d hired me, that I was not who she thought I was. Then I would explain that I hadn’t killed Harris Mickler—that someone else had broken into my garage and done the actual killing part—and therefore, I was not qualified (or willing) to assassinate her problem husband.
And then?
Then I would do the most adult thing of all. I would throw the backpack full of cash at her and run before she had a chance to stop me. Possession was nine-tenths of the law. I wasn’t sure whose law, or if the mafia even cared about the law. But math was math, no matter who was holding the calculator. If I didn’t have Irina Borovkov’s money, she’d have no leverage against me for robbing her and she wouldn’t send her scary husband to slit my throat.
The parking lot of the Tysons Fitness Club was packed withcars, all shiny and imported, with monthly payments that probably amounted to more than the mortgage on my house. I parked Ramón’s loaner between an Audi and a Porsche, careful not to ding anyone’s door as I eased myself out. The rusted sedan stuck out like a sore thumb. Apparently, I did, too. My knuckles were white around the strap of Delia’s Disney Princess backpack as I walked to the front desk. This had to be the right club. The name and logo matched the one on the sweatshirt in Patricia’s locker at the shelter, but this place didn’t feel like it fit Patricia Mickler at all. The inside of the fitness club was swanky as hell, with a juice bar in the lobby, a courtyard with a fountain, and long, bright corridors lit by tinted glass ceilings. I couldn’t picture Patricia walking down those halls wearing a plastic smile and a tennis skirt, but based on Vero’s description of Andrei’s wife, I could definitely picture Irina Borovkov here.
The woman waiting in line behind me made a sound like a snort. I glanced over my shoulder and caught her staring at my backpack. Then at my hair and my sneakers. I hoisted Delia’s pack higher on my shoulder, ignoring the titters and stares of the women who passed the desk. If they knew how much money was in that Disney Princess bag, or what I’d done to get it, they wouldn’t be smirking so hard.
“May I help you?” The perky young receptionist wore a lot of makeup and a logo-emblazoned polo. A fingerprint reader glowed red on the counter.
“I hope so,” I said, eying the scanner warily. “I’m interested in taking a Pilates class. Your instructor was recommended to me by a friend—Irina Borovkov? I called earlier and the receptionist mentioned there was a class starting at ten. I’d like to try it out and see if I like it before joining.” I’d watched a Pilates video that morning,and Vero was right. You really could learn anything on YouTube. I could totally pull this off. “Do you know if Irina is here?”
