Chapter 9
GABBY
It’s morning, and my apartment’s a total mess of color-coded files and half-packed boxes. I can’t believe I’m actually leaving. This was supposed to be my home base; the place I’d launch my little empire from. Now it looks like a war zone.
Sasha says it’s for my protection, but it feels more like losing the little bit of autonomy I’d fought so hard for.
I’m standing there, my hands on my hips, trying to process everything that’s happened.
“Alright, a little moving fuel.” Angie sidles in through the half-open front door, an iced latte in each hand. Bogdan, our escort for this little mission, is right behind her.
“Ah, perfect.” I take the latte she offers me and lift it to my lips.
She cocks her head to the side as I drink. “I still don’t get this decaf thing. Seems like, if caffeine was made for any moment, it’d be the morning you finish the proposal and then move, all before noon.”
“I’m jittery enough about all of it. I don’t need the caffeine,” I say. “No coffee for you?” I ask Bogdan.
“I prefer tea.”
“That makes it a grand total of ten words you’ve said this whole morning,” Angie says to him. “Keep it up, and you’re on track for a couple of dozen by noon.”
He grunts, squatting down to hoist a stack of boxes to take down to the van.
Once he’s gone, I sigh. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”
“Think of it as an adventure. Besides, you said this would be the best way to get the work done, right? Shack up with the boss for a while, hunker down and finish.”
That’s the story I’ve told her. I need to tell her the truth about the baby.
But I’m not ready just yet. In the meantime, she thinks Sasha’s doing this so I can work on the merger in peace for a few weeks.
Flimsy excuse, but it’s working for now.
Still, I feel like a total asshole for keeping the truth of my impending motherhood a secret from my best friend.
“And hey, you might find out for sure if the rumors about him are true.”
“The rumors? You mean the mob stuff?”
She shrugs. “That’s what they say.”
“I bet it’s not like that at all,” I say, folding a shirt and slipping it carefully into the open suitcase near me. “I mean, maybe he’s got some connections, but I doubt it’s anything serious.”
Angie pulls a strip of tape over the top of one of the boxes, then dusts her hands. “Maybe. But I could see it. He’s got the intensity. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s killed someone.”
“Angie! You said that so nonchalantly.”
“Might’ve been what happened to the person you replaced.” She lets out a wicked laugh, setting her latte on top of the box, then lifting it.
“God, don’t tell me that. I’m already thinking he’s on the verge of pitching me out the window of his office every time he looks over the latest work I’ve handed to him.”
“That’s one way to save on commute time. Come on, just a few more to go.”
I grab a box of my own, and together we head downstairs. I glance over my shoulder at the remaining few boxes. We’re not taking everything now, but if I’m going to be having Sasha’s baby, I might very well be saying goodbye to this place forever.
Outside, Logan Square is bright with clear noon light. Angie’s car is double-parked; the van Bogdan drove over is pulled up onto the curb with the back doors open. As we step out, Bogdan hurries over and takes my box, the hard expression on his face making it clear he’s annoyed.
“I can carry my own boxes, you know,” I say, watching him deftly march over to the van and load the box inside.
“Sasha was quite clear,” he says. “You’re not to carry anything.”
“Why?” Angie asks. “She’s not some pampered princess.”
I know the reason for the rule. I doubt carrying a five-pound box of shoes is going to put the baby in any danger, but, of course, Sasha would be the type to err on the side of caution.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Worse things in the world than not getting sweaty.”
Not to mention Bogdan has me beat in the physical strength department. I watch him move, notice the ease and power with which he carries the box, loads it into the van. The guy looks like former military, someone who’s done things with those hands that I can’t imagine.
Which raises the question: Why does Sasha have someone like him as a body man?
“Shit,” Angie says, shifting the boxes in her hands. “You mind grabbing the lattes?”
“Sure.” They’re on the tops of the boxes, and I quickly pluck them off.
“And mind setting mine on my car? This has been a blast, but I need to get back to work.”
“Definitely. And thanks.”
She winks as she heads toward the van. “My pleasure, babe.”
Lattes in hand, I start toward her car. She’s double-parked, so I need to do a little finessing to sidle through the parked cars and make it out to the street. Once at her car, I step around and set the plastic cup onto the hood and turn toward Angie.
“Hey! It’s here!” I yell over the traffic. “Don’t forget and drive off with it on here like th—”
A sound cuts me off, one louder than the usual din of traffic: the growl of an engine, quickly growing louder.
I lift my eyes to see a black sedan burst from the intersection ahead, racing toward me with the speed of a damn bullet. Tires scream, metal grinds as the car pivots a bit, scraping a parked car and sending sparks flying.
Holy shit.
My latte flies from my hand as I throw my arms up, the drink sending a light brown arc through the air. Angie screams, and it sounds a million miles away. The only thing in focus is the grill of the car bearing down.
A huge hand grabs my shoulder, and I’m flying sideways. I turn just enough to see that it’s Bogdan, his arm around my torso as he yanks me out of the path of the car. He pulls me back onto the sidewalk, the two of us hitting the pavement hard as I land on top of him.
I roll over just in time to see the car fly by. The driver overcompensates for missing me, swinging toward the other side of the street and clipping a lamppost, mirror shattering, before it moves back onto the street and screeches around the next corner.
Glass rains down. The smell of burnt rubber fills my nostrils.
“Stay down.”
Bogdan gets up, slipping a black pistol out of his inner jacket and scanning rooftops, windows, alleys. He’s calm, precise, and terrifying.
Angie rushes over, dropping to my side and looking me over with big, wide eyes. “Oh my God, oh my God—are you okay? Do I need to call 911?”
Bogdan slips his gun back into his jacket, then shakes his head. “No point. They’ll be long gone before you even hear the sirens. Stay put.” I watch as he reaches into his coat again, this time taking out a phone, bringing it to his ear. “It’s started.”
My pulse drums in my ears, and I can barely hold a thought in my head. What the car did was deliberate.
Someone just tried to kill me.
I place my palms on the sidewalk and push myself to my feet. My first couple of steps feel like some weird zombie shuffle.
Bogdan places his hand on my shoulder again, staring right into my eyes. “You’re safe. But right now, you need to get into the van.”
I don’t move at first. My fingernails are digging into my palm. My brain refuses to catch up. I’m still in a daze, as a small crowd forms around us. I glance over at the street, noticing the little river formed by my latte that I dropped. Angie’s is still on her car.
“Who the hell would…”
Bogdan shakes his head, letting me know this isn’t the time for questions like that. “Come on.”
He slips his arm around my waist, leading me through the parked cars. Angie follows us. The lamppost on the other side of the street has a nasty gouge and is bent a little. Glass from the car glitters under the late-morning sun.
“This is insane,” I whisper to myself.
“We’re leaving,” Bogdan says, as if to keep me focused. “Almost there. Just keep moving.”
“I need to go home,” I say. “Right now.” I can feel how ridiculous it sounds, but my apartment is the only safe place I can think of.
“Not a chance. You’ll be safer at the office until Sasha decides what he wants to do next.”
“I don’t want to go to the office. I want to stay here. I want to stay home.”
He shakes his head. “As of right now, you don’t have a home. Forget this place even exists.”
The way he says it stops me cold. It’s like my life’s been rerouted without my permission.
Angie grabs my arm, her voice trembling. “Gabby, I can stay with you at his place. I’ll follow you there.”
I shake my head and swallow the lump in my throat. “No. Just… go home. Please. I’ll call you tonight. And please don’t tell anyone what happened.”
For a moment, she looks like she wants to argue, but a hard look from Bogdan silences her on the spot. Then he secures the back doors of the van, gives them a slap for good measure, and turns to me.
“Van. Now.”
Angie pulls me into a quick hug. “I’m working from home today. Give me a call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Bogdan leads me around the van, opening the passenger side door and helping me in. As much as I want to be home, I do feel better as soon as the doors are shut.
Bogdan starts the engine, and we’re soon on our way. As we turn the corner, I catch the sight of police lights in the rearview mirror, pulling up to my apartment just as we’re leaving.
The ride is silent, except for the quiet din of the city outside. I dig my fingers into my knees to stop them from shaking.
“That was because of him, right?”
“Yes.”
“No chance that was some drunk driver or random accident or something?
“No chance.”
The simplicity of it makes me dizzy. “Jesus Christ,” I whisper.
He changes lanes smoothly. “Being near Sasha… it’s like being near a storm. Only a matter of time before you get a little rain on you.”
I snap my head toward him. “You mean, only a matter of time before someone tries to kill me? What’s going on here? This isn’t normal!”
“Normal is relative. But you’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”
His words hold little emotion, little reassurance. Just a quiet truth that I’m starting to realize I can’t ignore for much longer.
“Is it true?” I ask. “Is Sasha connected?”
“Connected?”
A surge of anger runs through me. “I just almost got killed, and you’re seriously going to play dumb?”
A beat of silence. He’s clearly measuring his next words very, very carefully.
“I’m not in the habit of spreading rumors. If there’s anything you wish to know about Sasha, or Sasha’s business dealings, I suggest you ask him yourself. And if he gives you an answer you’re not happy with, or no answer at all, you should accept it and assume it’s for your own good.”
I snort, shaking my head. “So that’s my life now. People making decisions for me, telling me what I’m allowed to know.”
“That’s the way of the world. No one knows everything.”
I open my mouth to fire some invectives in his direction but end up keeping them to myself. Bogdan’s almost certainly paid for his silence and discretion. If he’s not going to talk, then there’s no sense in wasting my breath.
By the time we hit the Loop, my hands have stopped trembling. My heart’s still pounding, but the tempo is steadier, more focused. It’s not much longer before we pull into the parking garage beneath the AngelCorp Tower.
“You should get some rest,” he says. “You’re safe now. Go into one of the empty offices and relax, get some sleep.”
“Not happening,” I say. “The first draft of the merger is done. I’m going to give it one last read-through, and then I’m putting it on Sasha’s desk. Tell him that.”
“You can tell him yourself. He’s here now.”
We park, and as soon as the engine’s off, I unbuckle, grab my bag, and climb out before he can come around and open the door. I’m about to storm off, but something occurs to me.
I stick my head back inside. “Thanks for saving my life.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says, as if it’s no big deal at all, just another day at the office.
I nod and hurry across the polished concrete of the parking garage, my footfalls echoing through the big, open space. Moments later, I’m in the elevator alone, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirrored walls of the car.
God, I look like a mess. I’m in an oversized University of Chicago sweatshirt, dirt and dust smeared across it and my face from when Bogdan pulled me out of the way. And there’s a small smear of a bruise on my hand from where I landed.
I lean against the back wall and slump down a little. I can’t believe I’m going to go into the office like this after what just happened. My pocket buzzes, and it’s a text from Angie—Let me know if you need anything.
I heart her reply, then smooth my hair for lack of anything else to do, and mutter under my breath, “Welcome to the new normal.”
Somewhere upstairs, Sasha’s waiting. And I don’t know whether he’s my shield or the reason I need one.