Page 47 of Goodnight, Sinners

Heart hammering, she whirled around and launched herself back into the doctor’s office. He looked up, startled. “Did we forget something?”

She forced a smile, her first in weeks. “I have a question, actually.”

“Of course.” He straightened in his chair, giving her his full attention.

Dasha racked her brain for a question, but her thoughts were on Shaun Patterson, the woman she’d nearly run into in the hallway. She was followed by three bodyguards, any of which could have easily recognized Dasha. It was sheer luck that her head had been down as she adjusted her purse, her hair obscuring her face.

“I… I… when do you think I’ll be able to drive again?” she asked quickly, wanting to get out of there and rush down the hall, catch another glimpse of her prey. It was an obsession, beating at her, propelling her forward. She hated that she had to let Shaun leave with her bodyguards.

“It’ll be a few weeks yet before I can recommend the use of heavy machinery.”

“Uh… sure.”

She thought enough time had passed that she could slip away from the room unnoticed. She said goodbye to her doctor and opened the door, peeking into the hallway. Shaun and her entourage were nowhere in sight.

She stepped into the corridor and looked both ways, indecision warring within. If she turned left, she might get another glimpse of her prey, but she risked getting caught. If Jozef found out she was still in Prague, he would shut the city down and raze it until he got his hands on her. His uncle had taught him too well for her to think he’d allow her to slip away again. He was the guard dog. Once he got a bone, he didn’t give it up easily.

Dasha turned right, shoving her sunglasses on her face and dipping her head low so her hair would obscure her features. If Shaun was in the hospital, then it would be crawling with Jozef’s men. He didn’t take risks with the girl. The last time Dasha had gotten close to her had been through a lot of careful watching and waiting. She wasn’t stupid enough to think Jozef would give her another chance at the girl. He probably had bodyguards following her she didn’t even know about.

Dasha made her way swiftly through the parking lot to the car she was borrowing. She let herself in and breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to the leave the lot without incident. Still, she looked in the rearview mirror all the way home and held her gun close to her side as she traversed the stairs to the top floor apartment.

It was an old building with four floors and no elevator. The place hadn’t been renovated in years. The tiles were cracked and dirty; the furniture was old and falling apart and the windows were so grimy only a small, very determined amount of sunlight could get through.

It was perfect for hiding out.

After coming back to Prague, she’d gone to an old society friend, Cece Mountbatten, for refuge. Cece had set her up in the guest room of her luxury townhouse, but the setup hadn’t lasted. At Dasha’s request, Cece had gone to Krystoff’s funeral reception. Unfortunately, she’d crossed words with Jozef, then come back to the townhouse in a fury over the incident. The idiot woman had no idea how much harm she could have done to Dasha with her carelessness.

Dasha had gotten out just in time and watched from a shadowed garden across the street as Jozef’s men paid Cece a visit, having found out she was an ally of Dasha’s. Luckily, they left empty-handed, but it had been close.

Dasha had been forced to find a new safe-house to hole up in, and this one was far less posh.

She dumped her purse and a bag of groceries on the counter. She’d avoided going out, but she’d had to go to her physio appointment. If she didn’t gain strength, then she wouldn’t be effective when she finally enacted her revenge.

She lay down on the couch, covering her face with her hands and taking several deep breaths. It was times like this, when she was faced with how far she’d fallen that she had to hold back tears. Rather than let them fall, she berated herself until they dried. She was useless if she couldn’t hold her shit together.

Finally, she rolled onto her side, her bad arm up, dragged the homemade quilt over her body and allowed herself a small nap. Though she didn’t like to admit it, her recovery was slow and tedious. She didn’t have the same level of energy that she’d had before her injury.

She slept heavily, the shadows of the day gradually creeping through the apartment. She woke with the awareness that someone was in the room with her. She thought maybe Jozef had figured out where she was. Without pause, she rolled off the side of the couch, reaching for her gun at the same time.

She hit the floor, rolled again until she was on her back and aimed the pistol, preparing to fire. Her eyes met the startled face of Nikolay.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she growled, shoving hair out of her face and lowering the gun.

When she’d left Cece’s, she’d gone to the only person who might actually help her. It was a risk but having a man on the inside was also a bonus. Nikolay helped set her up with the apartment and a car.

Dasha had known well before Krystoff’s death that Nikolay was betraying Jozef. She’d first suspected when he started turning up at the mansion after Jozef had moved into his club. Dasha had questioned Krystoff, and he’d admitted that Nikolay was in his pocket.

Though Dasha wanted revenge, wanted to bring the killer of her husband down, she still despised Nikolay for his lack of loyalty. Perhaps it was his generation. None of them had loyalty anymore. If Jozef had been loyal, he wouldn’t have gone rogue and the family wouldn’t have splintered. The difference between Jozef and Nikolay was that Jozef was up front about his intentions and where he stood.

Nikolay was a sneaky bastard, and she hated having to rely on him for sanctuary while she was in Prague.

“Brought you some things.”

He sat on the couch, leaving plenty of room for Dasha to pick herself off the floor and settle back on the couch. Adrenalin was rushing through her, warring with a groggy, sleep-hazed mind. It made her feel light-headed and disoriented.

“New phone.” Nikolay placed a phone between them.

Dasha picked it up. It was an old flip phone. She would take the Sim card out when Nikolay left and replace it with one of her own. She didn’t trust him not to keep tabs on her.

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