“Go put your husband out of his misery. I’ll handle this on my own.” Vero rolled her eyes at me as the doors slid closed between us.
I rode the elevator to the top floor, then took the stairs to the roof. It was nearly dusk, the first vibrant smears of color appearing over the city skyline to the west, the crash of waves against the sand a rhythmic whisper from the beach below.
Ekatarina Rybakov stood at the roof’s edge, her dark hair blowing in the wind. I didn’t bother to quiet the latch as the door fell closed behind me. She turned, smiled, her hands relaxed in the pockets of her trench coat, her stiletto heels rough against the concrete as she strode toward me, chin high.
“You came,” she said.
“I said I would.”
“I assume you brought the key.”
“I assume you honored your promise.”
There were echoes of Feliks in the way she held herself, the sharpness of her features. The same unwavering confidence, the dare in her dark eyes. But there was something else, too. Something I hadn’t seen in them before. Admiration. Respect.
She nodded, a thoughtful dip of her chin. “The spreadsheet I sent to the FCPD contained no record of you or your friends.”
“And Cam?” I asked.
“As far as the FCPD is aware, Charlie was responsible for the incident at the training academy. A payment was wired to his account on the morning of the fire. I made sure the notes were clear—Charlie orchestrated the inferno at Feliks’s behest and was paid for services rendered. Cameron, as well as you and your childcare worker, are free of any further obligation to the organization. Or to me,” she added. “And as for the small matter of Ignacious Grindley, his remains have beenhandled. They will not be found. You have my word.” She held out her palm, awaiting the key to her throne.
I placed the thumb drive in it, turning over the key to Feliks’s fourteen million dollars, which we had agreed to on the phone earlier that afternoon. I had presented her with an opportunity: Inform Feliks I had found the thumb drive, give him my location, send an anonymous tip to the police, and let the chips fall where they may. If Charlie decided to give in to Feliks, or if my scattershot plan were to fail, Kat would be no worse off.
But if my plan succeeded, this woman—the powerhouse attorney Feliks had entrusted with the inner workings of his entire operation—would inherit Feliks’s estate. All she had to do was place a bet.
“It’s encrypted,” I said.
“I know.” She smiled, her small wink catching me by surprise as she tucked the thumb drive away. “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” she said, strolling toward the door, the sun setting like a shimmering tiara behind her. Her gait was regal, the unburdened pace of a woman with no one to answer to and everywhere to go. She paused, appraising me over her shoulder. “Perhaps you would consider—”
I held up my hand, declining whatever proposition this newly crowned queen was about to offer me.
I was done with the mob. I was done with my life of crime.
I was content to go home with Vero and my children and write about someone else’s adventures for a while.
CHAPTER 34
“Hurry up and pick up your toys,” I urged the kids. “We have a long drive ahead of us.” I packed the last of Delia’s and Zach’s clothes into their luggage while Steven navigated to the remote checkout screen on the television. The sooner we made it out of the state of New Jersey, the better.
Vero leaned through the open door of our adjoining room. “Javi’s all checked out of his room. We’re ready to roll when you are.” She turned to my mom, who was busy folding her clothes into a neat pile beside my suitcase. “Thanks for offering to let him ride home with us.”
“Did you think I was going to let your husband take an Uber?”
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Probably not,” I said.
There was a heavy rap on Steven’s door. When he opened it, the hotel manager stood in the hall, frowning over a tablet.
“Excuse the interruption. As much as we are truly ready to see you and your children go, we have a problem with your method of payment for the room.”
“What kind of problem?” Steven asked.
“We attempted to charge the credit card you provided, but it seems there are insufficient funds on the account.”
“The problem isn’t the card,” Steven said curtly. “It’s probably your machine. That’s a platinum business card. There’s more than enough room on it to cover an entire floor in this dump.”
The manager turned his tablet toward us. “Not after we ran all the other room charges you authorized to it.”
