Page 10 of Blood Oath Christmas
The next several minutes pass by in a blur as we get into a car and they take me to my temporary new home, where I will stay locked in and guarded until after I give my testimony. Everything feels so surreal, like this is happening to someone else and I’m on the sidelines watching. Just a few hours ago, my biggest worry was how not to go with Frank to the cabin for Christmas. Now my entire life is changing faster than I can catch my breath.
The car slows as we reach a long gravel driveway and turn onto it. The sound of the wheels crunching over the gravel is loud in the quiet car. I haven’t been paying attention to where we’re going, so I have no idea where we are. Nothing looks familiar to me, but then it’s dark outside with only a little moonlight to see.
After a couple of minutes, we reach a small house tucked back and surrounded by shrubs and a couple of tall trees. Maybe it’s just my situation and the fear and disbelief I’m feeling, but the house looks foreboding and eerie to me. All I can really see is the outline of the building since we’re driving alongside the house instead of straight at it. If we were driving toward it, the headlights would have given me a view. I can’t tell what color it is or even if there are any curtains on the windows. Not that any of that really matters.
Agent Thomas puts the car in park and turns the engine off. The other two agents with us get out of the car and go ahead toward the house.
“They’re just going to check everything out and then we can go inside,” he says, and I nod.
I don’t know how much time passed, but it seemed like the other agents just stepped out of the car and were back before I could blink. One of them opens the back door of the car for me and I step out. The air is cool, but I don’t know if I’m shivering from it or from everything that’s happened. Probably a little of both.
I don’t even bother looking around the house when we step inside and light floods the area. I turn to Agent Thomas. “Where will I be sleeping? I want to lie down.”
He points at a small hallway. “Second door on the right. I and Agent Gentry will be here with you tonight, so try to get some sleep. You’re safe.”
Nodding, which seems to be the only thing I’m capable of at the moment, I go to my designated room. It’s small but serviceable with a bed, closet, small desk, and dresser. I drop down on the bed and close my eyes.
I don’t even have a change of clothes.
How can this be my life now? How did this even happen?
I must have dozed off because when I open my eyes, the moonlight coming through the small window is at a different angle. Sighing, I get up and walk over to the window. A set of dingy white blinds covers it, and a flowery curtain over that.
The house must have been sitting unoccupied for a while because it smells a bit musty. Pulling the curtain to the side, I reach between the blind slats and unlock the window. The cool night air feels good as it seeps in between the blinds, plus it will help get some of the stale air out.
The moonlight isn’t bright, but it gives me a little light to see that we’re off the main road without any nearby houses. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but I have to trust that the FBI knows what they’re doing.
Off to the side is the car we came in… a dark sedan that resembles every law and crime show I’ve ever seen. But what is that? My eyes narrow as I try to make out another shape, one that looks suspiciously like another car.
Did someone else come out here to relieve the agents? My heart kicks up beneath my breasts as a chill slides down my side. What if it’shim, the murderer? What if he’s followed us?
I shake my head and go back to the bed. My nerves are stretched too tightly, and my fear is trying to take hold. No one is outside waiting to murder me. I’m safe here with the agents, and I need to relax and try to get to sleep. Who knows what’s in store for me tomorrow.
Just as I pull back the blankets and crawl into bed, something on the small nightstand captures my attention. I stare at it for a stunned moment, then slowly reach out to grab it.
Another carved wooden figurine, this time what looks like a cat. First, the bear at the club, and now this?
6
KONSTANTIN
It’s been a long night and I’ve barely had any sleep. My mind’s been racing with worry over Ivy and what she might be going through right now. I know Vadim hasn’t caught up to her. Viktor would have let me know if he had. But still, the worry is there.
Vadim is a very resourceful snake. I know it’s notif, butwhenhe finds where the Feds are hiding her. Then it’s just a matter of when he’ll make his move. I have no doubt he will. There’s too much at stake for him. Not only will he be worried about retribution from the Volkovs, but with an eyewitness to his crime, he’ll go away for years. Maybe even life if some of his men come out of their hiding places and agree to testify against him, too.
No, Vadim has too much riding on silencing Ivy to sit back and wait. He’ll want to get her out of the picture as soon as possible. He’s not going to let a police escort or the FBI stand in his way, either. Like me, he has cops and Feds on his payroll who will help him get to Ivy.
Leaning back in my chair, I look absently around my office. This used to be my dad’s office before he was cut down in cold blood by a hail of bullets. Same as my mom. They had workedhard to make Baratino into a nice restaurant, and that all ended the day Vadim sent in hitmen to kill them. I barely escaped with my life, and though I can’t prove he was behind it, one day I will, and then his life will be forfeited.
But now, Baratino is mine, and it’s my honor, my duty, to make sure the family business stays clean and prospers. No Mafia business takes place here, even though different families do come in to dine and relax.
The office isn’t very big, but it serves its purpose. The walls are painted emerald green with dark wood trim. Pictures of the homeland, of Russia, grace the walls, always a reminder of my roots. Two dark brown leather chairs are positioned just in front of my desk. A bookshelf stands against one wall and a set of six-drawer filing cabinets stands against another. On my large, cherry wood desk sits a laptop, a picture of my parents, various pens and other supplies, and the accounting books, which I have open and laid out in front of me.
A frown creases my forehead as I look back down at the books. I’d been staring at the same entries for several minutes before I leaned back to take a break. Now as I look at the numbers again, I see what was bothering me before.
There are three entries, each for two thousand dollars, formiscellaneouskitchen supplies. Denis, my accountant, never leaves anything so vague. Although he may categorize something as miscellaneous, he always adds notes and has receipts stapled to the side of the page.
Curious, I flip the pages to last week and find the same odd entries, this time with five purchases for miscellaneous kitchen supplies. As I study them, I realize that the ink is slightly off. Most of the other books are detailed with dark blue ink, but these miscellaneous ones have a slightly lighter shade of ink. As I look even closer, I can tell the writing is different, too. It’s veryclose, but the zeros have a little curly cue at the top, unlike the other zeros.
