Page 36 of No Reason to Trust

“The meeting was being recorded,” Livvy said gently. “You wanted to do the right thing. The others in the room did not. We don’t want you to be killed because you wanted to do the right thing.”

“They would not kill me,” Sergei said. His voice was full of bravado, but his eyes held the knowledge that he knew they were right. His gaze darted from Jake to Livvy. Back to Jake. His larynx jumped when he swallowed. Sergei was scared.

“Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But they’re never going to look at you the same way.” Livvy leaned closer. “What you did was very brave. We don’t want you to get hurt, or worse, because you stood up for what’s right.” She realized she hadn’t won Sergei over. But he was wavering. “You go home. Talk to your wife. If you decide you want our help, you can call my phone.” She recited her phone number, and Sergei narrowed his eyes. “That is not a New York area code.”

“You’re right about that,” Livvy said. “Just memorize that number, and if you and your wife decide you want help, call me. We’ll pick you up and take you someplace you’d be safe.”

She saw Sergei’s lips moving. Memorizing the phone number? She hoped so. “Talk to your wife,” she said quietly. “If you want our help, we’ll give it to you.”

Livvy looked around, afraid some of the people on the street might see them talking to Sergei. “Thank you for the restaurant suggestions,” she said in a loud voice. “We’ll give them a try.”

Sergei swallowed. Nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Enjoy your meal.”

“We will,” she said. Then she and Jake turned and began walking away. When they reached a corner and turned around, Sergei had disappeared.

“You think he’s gonna call?” Livvy asked Jake.

He shrugged. “Fifty-fifty,” he said. “But I hope to God he does. If he doesn’t, he’s gonna end up in the Gowanus Canal.”

Chapter 14

Sergei walked quickly toward his house. Every time he reached a corner, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder. Finally he huffed out a breath. Why would anyone be following him? They knew where he and Elena lived. It would be child’s play to sneak into his house after he and Elena were asleep and shoot both of them in the head.

And the New York police? They’d chalk it up to Bratva violence. Wouldn’t put much effort into investigating, because they knew no Bratva member would rat out his buddies.

A cold finger ran down Sergei’s spine, and he walked a little faster. He needed to get home. Needed to talk to Elena.

Sergei recited the woman’s phone number again, making sure it was committed to memory. Elena would still be home when he got there. They could talk about what had happened at the meeting, then discuss the woman’s offer. Would his wife want to uproot herself from her community? Leave her parents? Her sisters? Move someplace new and unfamiliar?

No. He knew his wife well enough to understand that she was woven into the Russian community here. Her parents, siblings, nieces and nephews all lived near them.

Sergei swallowed. Elena was pregnant, but no one knew yet. The safety of the baby now had to be considered. If Alexei killed him and Elena, the baby would die, as well. Unacceptable.

Sergei walked faster. That space between his shoulder blades was twitching. As if someone was watching him. It was not a surprise. It would be more shocking if no one was watching him. He didn’t look over his shoulder. Couldn’t show any awareness of surveillance. Right now, the only thing that was important was getting home to Elena. Telling her what had happened and relaying the offer from the woman and man. They would be safe. Protected. Shielded from Alexei’s vengeance.

When he reached his house, he didn’t hurry. He walked with the same deliberate speed he’d used since he left the office building. Walking up the front steps, he unlocked the door and stepped into the enclosed porch. Unlocked the door to the house, and stepped inside, making sure both doors were locked behind him.

Elena hurried out of the kitchen. “Sergei! What are you doing home before noon? Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

Sergei took his wife’s hand. Twined their fingers together and drew her into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair from the table and eased her into it. “We need to talk, Elena.”

She sucked in a breath and shoved her blond hair behind her ears. Grabbed both his hands. “Sergei, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Elena could always read him, just as he could always read her. They’d grown up together, the children of close friends. So he slid his fingers between hers, and held her tightly. “We have a problem, Elena.”

Her fingers tightened on his. “What happened?”

“I told you about this FBI agent who is supposed to meet with us tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

“Apparently, his boss is sending him to us so that we can kill him and dispose of his body.”

Elena sucked in a breath. “What?” she whispered, her eyes wide with horror.

He nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s the purpose of this meeting. To kill him and dispose of his body.”

Elena frowned. “Why? What has he done?”

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