Page 45 of Fierce Pursuit

I jumped, panic ripping through me.

Until I saw the baby. Just a baby, wailing in its mother's arms.

Not a scream. Not a gunshot. Not Kostya.

My nerves were shot to hell. My pulse refused to slow.

I slumped down, pulling my coat tighter around me, hoping the small crowd of people waiting for the nine-thirty train would be enough to hide me. I clenched my ticket so tightly in my sweaty hand that the paper wrinkled.

I checked it. Then checked it again. And yet again. As if the details would suddenly change. As if something would go wrong.

Every sound had me jumping. Every shift in movement sent my pulse into overdrive. My stomach was a hard knot, twisted so tight it ached.

I just needed to get on that damn train.

Again my mind turned to the mess Veronika had created for me. All of this. All this fear. All this waiting. All this running.

For ten thousand dollars.

It seemed too small an amount; the cost alone of sending Kostya had to be more than that. Why the hell would Solovyov waste his time? Men like him, men like Kostya, made more than that in an hour, let alone a day.

It didn't make sense.

Why was my life only worth ten thousand dollars? Why was Veronika's?

If she had just asked Solovyov for the money—or even Kostya—they probably would have given it to her. I didn't want to think about what she would've had to do for it. But she was already sleeping with Solovyov. She flaunted it.

She took pride in showing off the trinkets and baubles he bought her, treating them like trophies. Her Hermès bag collection alone was worth well over a hundred thousand dollars.

And yet, she had risked everything for this? For ten thousand dollars?

And now, because of her, I was paying the price.

As always, anger at my sister was quickly followed by guilt. Whatever her faults, she'd paid dearly for them. And as upset as I was, I knew she'd never have deliberately put me in this position. We may have only been half sisters, but she loved me…in her way.

I knew why she stole it. She did it for the rush. For the thrill. Because cheating on a mafia boss wasn't enough. She had to steal from one, too.

I clenched my jaw, my stomach twisting as the weight of my reality settled deeper. I was hiding in a filthy train station in Chicago, running for my life, over ten thousand stupid dollars.

Tears stung at the backs of my eyes. Not from fear. Not even from exhaustion. But from the gut-wrenching realization of how little I was actually worth.

Was this it? Was this all my life was valued at?

Maybe if I gave the money back, it would all go away. Maybe Kostya would make my death swift.

Or maybe I should just take the money. Exchange it into American dollars. Buy another new identity. A better one. One that could withstand scrutiny from any government. Maybe I needed to leave big cities altogether. Look for somewhere small. Somewhere forgettable. I could disappear in a tiny rural town, a quiet suburb where no one asked questions. Where no one would look at me twice.

My English had improved a lot over the last few months. I could almost speak without the thick Russian accent that made me stand out like a sore thumb in Middle America.

I could blend in. Live simply. Bag groceries. Work at a gas station. Make just enough to get by without drawing attention.

No danger. No mafia. No fear. Just a life.

But was that the life I even wanted? Was it even possible?

My eyes darted across the main hall again, scanning carefully, methodically, for any signs of Kostya. Or worse—any of the other Russians he could have working for him.

The station was filled with the usual crowd for a late-night train. College students, their backpacks slung over their shoulders, some dozing against their luggage, others chatting in hushed voices, the occasional burst of laughter making my heart jerk in my chest. A few families with babies, exhausted parents swaying from side to side as they tried to soothe their fussing children. An odd man in a suit, polished and composed, standing stiffly as if he was actually preparing for a business meeting after a twenty-hour train ride.

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