Need a tail on someone.
Vaska
Who?
New girl from the bakery, Ayla.
Vaska
Ah, yeah, Ivan told me. The mouthy one. Not on schedule today.
I know. Find her.
Vaska
She steal something? Her address is with Ivan.
Just find her.
I shove my phone in my pocket.
I head for the door. The hallway smells like mold and old paint. I take the stairs two at a time, boots echoing like gunshots.
Outside, the city’s already awake. Sirens in the distance. Traffic crawling. Normal.
My bike’s where I left it, untouched. No bullet holes. No scratches. Just chrome and black and the faint scent of gasoline.
I swing on, start it up. The engine growls, low and steady. I sit there for a moment, staring at the street.
Meetings not for another hour.
My phone buzzes.
Vaska
Found her. Then lost her.
Lost her.Vaska never loses anyone.
She managed to get away from you?
Vaska
She like a little ghost.
I pocket my phone.
I twist the throttle harder than necessary, and the bike lurches forward.
Aghost.
That word sits wrong in my chest, heavy and sharp. I don’t like it. Don’t like that she slipped past Vaska like smoke through fingers. Don’t like that she’s somewhere in my city, breathing my air, and I can’t find her.
I weave through traffic, taking corners too fast, letting the engine scream. The cold bites at my face, clears my head. I need to think.
She’s not random. Can’t be. Girl shows up at my bakery asking for work the same week we hit the Turks shipment? Girl who shoots like a pro and patches bullet wounds like a field medic?
No.
