Page 24 of Refrain

I should have runwhen I had the chance. Back to Montana, or farther. Anywhere but here. Vlad’s money is a tempting distraction, but maybe that’s all it ever was. An excuse to stay a little longer. Search longer. Hope longer.

But if Anna was here, then I’ve already screwed up my slim chances of finding her.

My failure encircles my neck like a noose as I enter the precinct with the hood of Espisido’s jacket drawn low over my face and no semblance of a logical plan. A receptionist guards the desk situated behind bulletproof glass at the center of the lobby, but she doesn’t look my way.

I don’t find Grey in his office. So I keep moving, slipping through a side entrance and into the alley where some of the senior officers park for a smoke. Sure enough, I spot his patrol car—his official one this time. He’s sitting back in the driver’s seat, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle in the other. Something tells me that’s not coffee.

He has to see me coming from a mile away, but it’s almost a full minute before he disengages the locks.

“Well, you’re alive after all.” He tilts the bottle in a mock salute as I scramble into the cruiser.

“You might as well let it all out,” I tell him, bracing for the inevitable lecture.

Some unknown country song plays on the radio, and he’s already adjusted my usual seat. The masculine vibe is a blunt reminder that Grey never wanted to take me on as his partner in the first place. He didn’t “babysit,” in his exact words.

“You look like shit, kid,” he tells me, the likely start of a massive tirade. In the end, he just shakes his head. “I was prepared to cover my own ass. I had it all written up that you never showed. That job wasn’t on the books…”

“But?” I sense a big one coming.

“But.” He scoffs and takes a drag on his cigarette. “That didn’t exactly sit too well—the thought of you being dead because you couldn’t keep your fucking head on straight. I spent all night looking for you. Only ten minutes ago did I finally rationalize that you were ashes in that fucking club.”

Dark circles line his eyes. One good inhale, and I realize he hasn’t showered.

“I called out,” he tells me. “But I had to come here, just in case your scrawny ass would show. I’m still not convinced you aren’t a figment of the rum though.” He starts to take another sip, but I grab the bottle before he can.

“You shouldn’t drink and drive—”

“You want to tell me what the hell happened, Parker? They found bodies in that place, you know. They think one of them is Vladimir Olshenkov.”

Do Iwantto tell him what happened? No. Yes. Maybe.

“I will. But not right now. I…” I suck in air and swallow my pride. “I need a favor.”

“Of course you do.” Laughing, Grey takes another drag on his cigarette.

The acrid smell floods my nostrils, and I can’t silence a cough.It reminds me ofhim, the “angel” who followed me to spy from the mouth of the alley. I can’t see him—he’s good, but nothing can erase his smell, and it haunted me during the entire walk here.

“First, you help me,” Grey tells me, commanding my attention again. “When I go in there and tell the brass that you never showed, what the fuck should I say, huh? I’m guessing you aren’t going in yourself, dressed like you crawled out of a dumpster.”

“Nice one.”

He has a point. As far as today is concerned, Chloe Parker is as good as dead. I could always go back to Montana, but not any time soon. If Piotr found my home, he found my accounts. Ironically, Vlad’s money is my only option. The moment I get it, I’m on the next train out. Then the next boat. Plane. No route will outrun Piotr for long.

But I’ll follow any path leading to Anna.

“Just tell them…”

“We’ll say you’re undercover,” Grey says over me. “We knew that it would be breaking the rules, but the lead was just too damn big to lose. I need a name. A good one. You had to rub shoulders with someone before you got out of that death trap. I need a rat to pin this on. You owe me this.”

A good name. Espisido is a terrible one. I don’t recognize it from any of the databases, but I do recognize one.

“Arno,” I say, recalling the man I heard speaking to Espisido the night he saved my life. “That’s a dealer’s name, isn’t it? The one he goes by.”

Grey sits straighter, the gears in his head already turning.

“Runs guns too,” I continue. “Has a gang. What is his name?Mackenzie—”

“Arnold Mackenzie,” Grey corrects, rubbing his chin. “That’s a good fucking name. Very good. I guess he was working with Petrov after all, huh?”

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