He bristled. “A lot is riding on this. You gonna clean up the mess that you created?”
“You can bet your last dollar on it.”
The line went quiet for a beat before he cleared his throat. “She’s definitely dead, yes?”
“The fuck are you insinuating, old man?”
“Bene, bene. My hotheaded son. How you ever became such a good warrior with this temper of yours, I’ll never understand.”
I killed the call, hoping to shit my father would take my word for it.
She needed that new passport, and she needed to lay low.
Or we’d both be dead.
____________
She checked into a luxurious hotel in Vienna at half past midnight, casually walking into the glitzy lobby with a backpack and a thirty-dollar getup.
I was in awe of her strength, with her quiet resilience and no-nonsense attitude. I knew she was hurting, but she hid it well. I was glad she chose somewhere nice, where she could get a decent meal, sleep, and amenities.
The minute she disappeared inside one of the elevators, I approached the receptionist and asked for the room next door to hers. An obscene bribe and a veiled death threat later, I had the digital key to the neighboring suite. Unlike Tierney, I wasn’tgoing to sleep. I was going to stay alert and make sure no one else was coming for her.
At seven in the morning, I heard the door to the room adjoined to mine open and slid my laptop back into my bag. I followed her downstairs, taking the next available elevator. I watched as she whisked a coffee to-go and a plain croissant from an overpriced shop at the hotel, tossed her digital key in the checkout box, and slid into her car. I did the same, and we both started on our way to Prague.
We arrived at Old Town, where Tierney walked into the coffee shop I’d sent her to. So far, she’d done everything according to my instructions—a good indication she was serious about keeping us both alive.
Through the window, I watched Jakub, my old buddy, hand her a new passport. They shared a pleasant conversation.
Pleasant for them, not for me. I wanted to stick a knife in his throat for smiling at her.
Stop flirting with my woman, I wanted to hiss out.
Did I care that he was gay and happily married to a guy named Steve? No. Not one fucking bit.
From there, Tierney proceeded to open a new bank account. I waited outside the HSBC branch and tossed breadcrumbs for pigeons, keeping one eye on the door. Finally, she walked out of the bank and straight into a real estate office across the street—also a contact I’d given her.
This is where you part ways. You see that she enters her new apartment, and you leave.
I gave her explicit instructions regarding the apartment I wanted her in—highly secured, with 24/7 surveillance, but not in a huge-ass skyscraper with enough human traffic to cover any wrongdoer’s footprints. I even went the extra mile and gave her a list of properties I deemed suitable.
My balls were in my throat the entire journey following her from the real estate office after she entered her car. I released a queasy breath when she stopped in front of one of the buildings I’d flagged for her. Eight stories. Twenty apartments. Highly secure.
Tierney and the seedy-looking real estate agent poured out of their respective vehicles, and I parked but didn’t kill the engine.
The real estate agent said something to her, touching her arm—I REPEAT, TOUCHING HER ARM—before dropping a set of keys in her palm, then jerking a thumb behind his shoulder. With that, he turned around and walked away.
Wait.
What the fuck?
Why wasn’t he going in with her?
More than likely, the answer was he needed to show another property, pick up something, or—Jesus, I dunno—take a shit and would be back shortly.
But there was a slight chance this was a setup.
I was leaving nothing to chance when it came to her.
