Page 8 of Blood Oath Christmas
I lower my gun reluctantly. Besides, I’ve never been one to shoot a helpless man, and right now with Vadim unconscious, it’d be like shooting a fish in a barrel.
Turning, I finally look at Viktor.
“Ivy?” I ask as the police sirens get louder.
He nods. “Safe but scared. Hiding behind a counter in the kitchen.”
That, at least, is a relief. But we can’t just stand here over Vadim, especially when there’s a dead man just around back in the alley.
I don’t have to say anything to Viktor. We both start off toward our cars, parked a block away but still within eyesight of the club. Standing in the shadows, we watch as three police cars screech into the parking lot.
Viktor stands just as tensely as I am. As my most trusted friend and confidant, he is the only one who knows about the blood oath I took to protect Ivy. For years, he has been my second pair of eyes, watching out for her when I’m not able to.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, Viktor pulls out a chunk of wood and his knife and patiently starts carving. I’m not sure when the big guy decided to get into carving wood figurines, but it seems to help calm his nerves. He’s damn good at it too.
“All clear!”
Although we’re a block away, we still hear a cop shout. Viktor and I exchange glances.All clear?Did they find David’s body? Or Vadim lying unconscious? It’s hard to know for sure since we’re not close enough to hear regular conversation.
Right now, Ivy is in there, scared to death and all alone. She’s lived a pretty sheltered life as far as being exposed to violence and Mafia ways. This has got to be hard for her. I have the almost uncontrollable urge to go to her, take her in my arms, and tell her everything will be alright.
But she doesn’t know me. Not like I know her. Viktor and I have gone to great lengths to make sure she doesn’t know she’s being watched. Except at the club. I’m there every Friday night. But not the rest of her life. She’s not aware when Viktor or I watch over her when she’s grocery shopping, at the gym, at work, or any other activity that puts her around people and potential danger.
The coroner pulls into the parking lot, reclaiming my attention. A few minutes later, a police officer walks out, his arm around Ivy’s shoulders. She has a blanket wrapped around her and she looks so small and scared it cuts at my heart.
I glance around at the activity, my mouth tightening into a grim line. “No sign of Vadim,” I say.
Viktor shakes his head. “He must have woken up and snuck away before the cops saw him.”
My heart chills with foreboding. I’d hoped they’d see his body and arrest him. “Follow Ivy. See where they take her.”
Viktor nods as he puts away his carving and knife.
Vadim’s main mission will be finding Ivy and permanently shutting her up. Since he escaped arrest, she’s in even more danger now.
5
IVY
“Witness protection,” I whisper. My voice is so low, I barely hear it, so I wonder if the others were able to.
My stomach rolls and sweat breaks out across my forehead. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I say an instant before I jump up from my chair and rush to the bathroom, without waiting for permission from anyone.
The bright fluorescent lights hurt my eyes as I hurry over to the sink and lean over it. I dry heave a couple of times, but thankfully don’t throw up. What the hell am I going to do? No one can force me to testify or to go into witness protection, but what are my alternatives? From what Agent Thomas said, the guy I saw shoot that man in cold blood is a very dangerous man.
But to leave my family and friends? Not that I have much of either, but still. From what I’ve seen on TV, and granted, that doesn’t mean it’s the gospel truth, but once you’re in the program, you can never go home. Never see anyone from your old life. I will have to change my name, move to some unknown place, and start all over. Alone.
A shiver runs down my spine. Turning on the sink faucet, I cup my hands together and fill them with water, then bring it to my mouth and drink. My mouth feels so dry, it’s like I caught an entire dust storm inside it.
Straightening, I grab a couple of paper towels and dry my hands and mouth, my gaze caught in the mirror, and my horrified expression. My blue eyes are wide, my pale skin even paler than usual. Tonight had been a good hair day, but I can’t tell from the mess it is now. Blonde strands stick up all over my head, a few damp from drinking water stuck to my cheeks. There’s no color in my face, and even my lips seem bleached of color.
My gaze travels down and I notice my cell phone tucked into the waistband of my skirt. My pulse quickens and I yank it free and stare at it. This may be my only opportunity to talk to my friends and family, to let them know that whatever they hear, I’m okay.
I glance quickly at the bathroom door, then call Mom. We don’t have the best of relationships, but I don’t like the idea of her never knowing what happened to me. The phone rings three times then goes to voicemail, but her mailbox is full, so I can’t leave a message. Sighing, I try to send her a text message, but it doesn’t go through.
Next, I call Frank. He answers on the second ring, which is pretty amazing considering how late it is.
“Ivy?” His voice is rough and breathless, proof I woke him. “It’s late. What’s wrong?”
