52. Juliette
Juliette
A s we’d strolled down the streets of Chicago back to the hotel, it didn’t escape me how tense Basilio and Dante were. First, I thought it had something to do with the incident back at the bar. But the moment two of Dante’s men pulled up and joined behind our husbands, I knew that wasn’t it.
“What is that about?” I asked my cousin as we entered The Ritz Carlton.
Wynter just shrugged, avoiding my eyes.
“Wynter,” I warned. “You know something.”
She shook her head, but still avoided my eyes. I gritted my teeth but didn’t push. I’d do that when we were alone.
“Juliette,” Dante had called out and I glanced over my shoulder. “I’ve got to take care of something. You and your cousin stay in the suite.” My eyebrows shot up at his order. “ Please stay in the suite.”
I didn’t answer but Wynter did. “We will. You two be careful.”
And there was my confirmation that she knew what was going on. With the two bodyguards glued to us, we took the elevator up to the top floor to the Presidential Suite.
The moment the door of my hotel room closed, I Ieaned against it, let out a breath, then kicked off my shoes. Dante, being Dante, had someone bring a bag full of my clothes when he came knocking—correction, smashing—down the door.
Alone now with Wynter, I said, “Spill it.”
She blinked her eyes, giving me an innocent look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Spare me. I won’t drop it until you spill it.” She knew me well enough to know that was the truth. “What’s going on?”
She sighed, pulling me to the other side of the suite and making me sit on the bed.
My eyes flickered to the stack of letters and the envelope Kian had given me yesterday on the nightstand.
I had yet to open any of them. I wasn’t even sure what held me back.
Maybe it was the warning Kian gave me when we parted ways.
Wynter sat next to me and I waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, I couldn’t hold it anymore.
“Well?” I urged. “Don’t make me die of old age here before you start talking.”
“They got a tip,” she said, uncertain. She played with the hem of her shirt. “Sofia Volkov might be in the city.”
I straightened, my attention fully on her. “What? Really? Where?”
She shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. Two years ago, Sofia Volkov almost killed Basilio. Wynter’s crazy great-grandma was a bit on the psycho side.
Rubbing her stomach, Wynter leaned back against the pillows. For an Olympic ice-skater, she had gotten awfully lazy.
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I wish I did. Maybe I could go there and talk to her.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “You and I both know there’s no talking to that woman. She’s batshit crazy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, there’s that.”
“Do you have Basilio on the Find My iPhone app?” I asked her. Wynter’s light green eyes narrowed on me suspiciously.
“Well, if he’s moving, then we know he’s okay,” I reasoned, my tone slightly defensive. I didn’t have Dante on my app; otherwise I would have looked it up myself.
She tilted her head. “That’s actually a good idea.”
She pulled out her phone to open the app and we both leaned over it.
And sure as hell, it showed Basilio’s flashing dot moving.
“Are they going out of town?” I asked, frowning. “It looks like they’re leaving the city limits.”
“My guess is they’ll stay close by,” Wynter stated. “Neither one of them would want to be far from us with the rumor that Sofia Volkov is around this area.”
I nodded. She was right. Basilio wouldn’t risk it for sure. He knew the old woman still wanted Wynter in her clutches.
The little dot on her screen moved, then came to a stop. “Hey, what’s that?” I asked, pointing to it. “A hospital?”
She tapped on it lightly and a name came up. “Tinley Park State Mental Hospital,” she murmured. “Built in 1959, it’s an abandoned asylum in Chicago. It’s massive. You can get trapped in it with no way out.”
I shook my head and scoffed.
“It says that all there in the app?”
Wynter rolled her eyes. “No, but I tapped on it and expanded the research. Damn smart-ass.”
Then a soft groan left Wynter’s lips. “Don’t tell me you’re turning so soft that calling me a smart-ass makes you feel guilty?” I asked dryly.
“Nope, not that.”
I sought out her face, but she was shifting off the bed already. She almost looked like a little pill bug—I called them roly-poly bugs—on its back, trying to get up.
My lips curved up and I shifted off the bed, helping her to stand. “You’re big as a boat,” I remarked.
She shot me a glare. “I’ll remember to return the compliment when you get knocked up.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. She’d be waiting a long time. Kids were not my thing. She sighed. “I swear, I spend more time in the bathroom than anywhere else.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“Need to pee?” She nodded and I saw my window of opportunity. I tilted my chin toward the door in the far corner. “Bathroom is there.”
She wobbled her way there and I wasted no time.
I was dressed well enough to fight. I dug through my purse for my phone and the knife I’d kept from yesterday.
As I pulled it out, a red stain caught my eye.
It was Dante’s blood from when I’d cut the skin on his throat.
Guilt flickered in my chest, but I ignored it.
No time to dwell on it now. I slid the blade in the back pocket of my jeans. Grabbing my pair of Chucks, I quickly slipped them on before rushing to the door.
Resorting to my acting skills, I slipped a panicked mask on and opened the door.
“Wynter’s water broke,” I hissed, my voice pure panic. “Can you two carry her and take us to the hospital?”
The two men barely waited for me to finish the sentence, rushing past me. What a bunch of suckers!
The second I flew out the door, I dialed up the secured line that Kian gave me. The elevator door pinged open as if waiting for me. Destiny was on my side—at least for the moment.
“Juliette,” he greeted. The fucker probably knew since day one who I was, even though I insisted on giving him only my first initial.
“Where are you?” I asked as I entered the elevator.
“This isn’t a good time.” I could hear in his tone he really meant it. There was tension and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint lingering.
“I don’t give a crap,” I hissed, focusing more on my needs.
I wanted Sofia Volkov dead. For what she had done.
If nothing else was going right in my life, that part would.
Damn it! “I need you to do a fast track on Dante DiLustro. I need his exact location.” I knew where Basilio was.
I just needed confirmation that Dante was still with him.
I needed to get to the Volkov bitch before Dante did. She was my kill, not his.
He let out an amused breath. “Well, that’s easy,” he mused. “He’s actually meeting me in a few minutes.”
I frowned. Did he work for Dante too?
“I guess you’re collecting on all ends, aren’t you?” I scoffed. “Where are you meeting him?”
“At an abandoned mental hospital.” How fucking appropriate.
“I know exactly where you are, then. Thanks.” I hung up just as the elevator opened. I rushed through the crowded lobby and exited onto the sidewalk of the busy Chicago street.
“Taxi!” A businessman flagged a cab that came to a screeching stop and I rushed to it.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to steal your cab.” I shot him an apologetic look. “I have to get to a mental hospital or there’ll be hell to pay.” Then I smiled sweetly and added, “You’re more than welcome to join.”
The look he gave me was clear. He’d rather walk to the ends of the earth than share a cab with me. I shrugged and slid into the cab.
“Tinley Park State Mental Hospital,” I said to the cab driver. His gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, probably ready to tell me to get out of his car.
“It’s closed.”
“I know. But I need to get there. Fast. I’ll pay you triple.”
That got him going. The problem? I didn’t have any money on me. Nor a credit card.
Shit!
“Do you take Apple pay?” I asked casually as I scrolled through my phone.
“No.”
Okay, Dante would pay the man once we got to the asylum. Or Basilio.
Worst came to worst, I’d ask Kian to front me some money.