40. Katerina
CHAPTER 40
Katerina
The moment Roman leaves the room, I’m popping up out of bed. I rush into the bathroom for a quick hot shower and then the closet, still dripping beads of water. Moments later, I emerge dressed in an all-black ensemble of a basic tee, denim, and boots. It’s a look almost inspired by Roman’s state of dress when he heads out for his missions.
That’s because tonight I’m on a mission of my own.
I check under the bed where I’ve hidden a backpack with items collected over time. Things like a pocketknife, cash, a cell phone, bullets, and even a gun.
The latter I nicked one afternoon when the security on patrol weren’t paying attention and I’d been wandering the factory.
I might be Roman’s girlfriend today, but before I met him, I was a thief.
A pretty damn good one at that.
I told Roman I had skills that were useful. I could hack into devices. I could swipe wallets from pockets with most people clueless as to what I was doing.
Finch and the others often used me as a decoy. Sometimes, I was even the one sent undercover.
No one suspects a woman who looks as harmless as I do to be a criminal.
It’s proven to be its own superpower whenever we were carrying out a job.
Tonight it’ll be used to my advantage one more time.
My footsteps are slow and cautious. I gently draw the bedroom door open and then slip through the crack.
Though we’ve only been at this base of operations for a little over a week, I’ve already memorized the layout. I’ve paid close attention to which exits are guarded and the shifts among Roman’s personnel.
As he’s in the war room mapping out the final plans for tonight, I’m sneaking through a side door and crawling into the trunk of one of the Hummers.
I can get myself out from the inside. I do so over an hour later when the Hummer rolls to a stop and the men Roman’s brought to the Winchester get out. They’re focused on gaining entry to the hotel.
The same exact goal I have tonight… except through different means.
After a moment, I get to work letting myself out of the trunk. My boots touch the asphalt as I crouch low and glance around the street, making sure no one sees me.
Not even Roman.
He’s situated in one of the taller buildings across from the Winchester. He and a handful of his men are waiting for the pakhan to arrive before they make their first move.
My heart hammers in my chest as I take a moment to collect myself. What I’m about to do could go horribly wrong in every possible way.
It could wind up even worse than what happened with the situation where we tried to lure JC into Rosita’s apartment. I could be caught by the Midnight Society and sent straight back to the marketplace. The pakhan himself could get hold of me.
A shaky, nauseous sensation tortures my stomach. I fight against it with deep, slow breaths.
“You can do this, Kat,” I whisper to myself. “You can do this… or you’ll die trying.”
Roman isn’t the only one willing to die tonight.
He’s not the only one willing to do whatever it takes to get his revenge.
I want the pakhan dead. I want the people who hurt me, who have gone after Roman, who are responsible for Rosita’s death, to suffer.
I’m willing to do anything to make it happen.
With a final, steadying breath, I stand up and then dart across the street once the coast is clear and no more cars are coming. I have my hoodie up and I look fairly nondescript as I stroll down the sidewalk and then turn toward the street corner that’ll lead me to the back of the huge, prestigious hotel.
Now I just need to find my in.
Slowing down as I come up on some delivery trucks and vans parked in the loading area of the hotel, I study the scene carefully. The driver of a floral delivery van has gotten out to talk with hotel security as they check his identification and delivery paperwork.
An exchange that lasts only a few seconds but more than enough for someone quick and nimble like me.
While the security guard is handing back the paper and the driver turns toward his van, I’m slipping open the rear door and crawling inside. The door gently snaps shut a split second before the driver’s hopping into his seat behind the wheel.
I lay flat against the floor of the van and pray he doesn’t happen to glance at the merchandise he’s delivering.
What must be thousands upon thousands of fresh floral arrangements.
Luck is on my side, because he doesn’t check the back of the van. He shifts gears and the van rolls forward past the security guard and toward the hotel’s loading area.
The next minute is the most nerve-racking moment so far.
Once he parks again and hops out to collect the first batch of flowers, I’m waiting for him on the inside. I’m not much of a fighter, but as the door springs open, my boot’s ready to greet his face.
“ ARGH !” he howls, stumbling back.
I don’t give him time to recover. Instead, I grab a large, colorful pot of peonies and smash it over his head. The guy is down on the ground seeing stars as I leap out of the truck with a different floral arrangement.
All I need is to gain entry to the hotel long enough to disappear.
By the time security notices the floral van and the man collapsed on the ground, I’ll already be inside.
I march toward the huge garage-like doors where deliveries are brought to the hotel. The guard on the inside monitoring the deliveries nods me through unsuspectingly. Pretending I’m treating my job as a flower delivery person with utmost care, I walk the arrangements all the way up to the glass doors leading into the hotel.
“Hey,” calls a different security guard. “Deliveries are dropped off here. Hotel staff will retrieve them.”
I shoot him a quick, apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. It’s just these peonies are very delicate and they can’t be left in a dark, damp environment like this loading dock. It would be a shame if they were ruined and then the club members noticed?—”
“Alright, carry ’em inside and drop them off right at the reception desk. Straight back out.”
“Yes, of course,” I murmur, my walk fast.
The moment I’m inside the hotel and certain the security guards on the loading dock are not watching, I ditch the flowers.
My gaze is everywhere, scanning the area. I’m quick scurrying to the first nook where I can hide long enough to be forgotten about.
I make it, diving down a short hall that seems to be for hotel staff.
There’s a door marked cleaning and maintenance and two more marked as restrooms.
I opt for the one with the little illustrated woman in a dress.
No one’s inside.
Perfect.
It’s the reprieve I was hoping for as I get ready to make another move.
Now I just have to find a way to get close enough to the pakhan and?—
The door swings open and in walks a young woman in an unmistakable housekeeping uniform. She aims a small, tired smile at me as she steps into one of the stalls. I decide instead of fleeing like I’d originally planned the moment she walked in, I’ll stay.
The toilet flushes and she steps out of the stall to join me at the sink.
I maintain her gaze in the mirror, pretending I’m washing my hands. “Busy day?”
“Hmmm?” she hums at my side. “Oh yeah. Really busy. I’m just getting off.”
“Me too.”
“I’ve never seen you around before.”
“I’m a contractor,” I fib. “I do deliveries for the hotel.”
She nods, reaching over to the soap dispenser that’s between us. It’s the opening I need as she’s more distracted fussing with the dispenser than she is with what I’m doing.
“Well… see you around.”
“Bye.”
I walk out calmly as she faces her sink again and finishes drying her hands.
Without the employee name tag that was clipped to the front of her uniform. I wait until I’m out in the hall before clipping it to the front of my t-shirt. If anyone asks, I’ll claim I’m off shift and on my way home.
It’s a flimsy excuse, but it’ll have to do for the time being.
My hand ghosts over my hip to make sure I’m still carrying the handgun, and then I cross from one hall to another. I’m coming up on the elevator at the end with plans to ride it up to the second floor and disappear even further on the hotel grounds.
I’ll move inch by inch through the property until I find where the pakhan is. I’ll take the shot the second I’m able to. His men will immediately shoot me in retaliation. I’ll be killed on the spot.
But it won’t matter… because he will be dead first.
I’m operating on adrenaline and nerve as I stop in front of the elevator and press the up arrow. It dings as it arrives and the doors roll apart. I move to step on and then stumble back at the man I find inside.
The sovietnik, Roman’s father, is waiting for me, gold cane and all.
His wizened face lines with amusement. “Hello, Katerina. I’ve heard so much about you.”