Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Lucy
That bastard.
That rat-stinking bastard.
How could I have fallen for his lies?
Again.
I drove like a madwoman on the street behind the mansion.
I hadn’t used my car in a long time, but it was parked in a secondary garage in the back of the property that exited onto a rarely used street.
Thank God Sato wasn’t around. I was lucky there seemed to be a big job tonight; there were fewer bratva loitering around.
I was surprised my gate remote worked, but I was sure it alerted whoever was monitoring the CCTV around the property.
I was fighting back tears and the hurt that threatened to cave in my chest. I’d given myself permission to explore a life of domesticated bliss, but it didn’t last long, did it? Not when I was married to a man who always hated me.
I had been in the midst of packing, so I was all ready to go. In my purse, I dumped the burner Trevor handed me, and my .38 revolver. I left behind my phone with the number I’d had for most of my adult life.
I needed to ditch this vehicle. I didn’t have time to check for trackers. I mounted my burner and called Trevor. It went to voicemail.
Shit!
I called again.
He answered on the second ring.
“Lucy, I was about to call you.”
“Why?” Kirill must have been informed I left, but why would he call Trevor first?
“I think I found our missing King heir. Why did you call me?”
“Ah…Kirill and I had a fight.” No need to alarm my side of the family for now. If I told them my husband planned to murder me, they would hide me so fast, I wouldn’t be able to see this investigation through. They’d probably ship me out of the country.
The phrase “curiosity killed the cat” rattled inside me, and also what Dom always said about skating into shit. Well, no one was going to fix this except me.
Trevor chuckled. “You need me to make him sweat it?”
“Yes, I’m sure he’s tracking this vehicle. But I hope I got a head start.” I tamped down the heartbreak threatening to wreck me. “You have a name and location of this heir?”
“Yep.”
Thirty minutes later, Trevor and I had switched vehicles.
It was one of the De Lucci crime family Patrols.
He’d also sent me the information on Chloe Brown.
Although she’d gone through many last names, her first name remained the same.
But with some luck and with Trevor’s deep connections in both government agencies and the dark web, he’d been able to track her and could match several clandestine meetings with Bruce Davenport.
Thankfully, she wasn’t far. She’d been hiding out for the past three months in a house near the town of Milford, Pennsylvania, about two hours from Manhattan.
I stopped midway at a twenty-four-hour diner to look over her information.
Knocking on her door in the middle of the night was going to get me killed.
There were several guns registered to her, including a shotgun.
She worked at a gift shop in a tourist center at the base of the Pocono Mountains.
Although she had a degree in social services from Penn State and had held several jobs at women’s shelters in the past few years under different names, oddly, there was a block of time unaccounted for prior to her move to the Poconos that Trevor was still digging into.
I stared pensively out the diner window into the dark roadway.
Kirill would know I was missing by now. A knot twisted in my stomach.
I’d been expecting Trevor to call me back to tell me that Kirill was looking for me.
De Lucci territory would be the first place he’d go.
My burner was eerily quiet. And I didn’t want to bug Trevor since he told me he was neck-deep in syndicate business.
Renewed tears and anger burned in my eyes. My husband wanted to kill me.
How’s that for trauma?
He hated me so much he was willing to face backlash from Margo.
Kirill was right. I was gullible. And he found a way to get past my defenses and con me into believing him. I couldn’t believe I was willing to give that bastard a chance. Were any of his sob stories true?
It was looking more and more after I saw this through that I was going to disappear. Maybe I could use my knowledge of Chloe Brown for revenge.
I paid for my apple pie and coffee and continued driving to Milford. Trevor had handed me an envelope of cash. He’d even given me a fake passport and other supporting documents for a new identity. I should stop at a motel.
However, my impatience got the better of me. I was going to case the property. Get the lay of the land. I couldn’t do my breaking-and-entering routine because she had a door camera.
I parked the patrol across the street from the house.
It wasn’t a dense neighborhood and had plenty of land around each home.
It was a cute ranch house with an attached shed.
I was surprised there was no fencing. I turned off my headlights but kept the heater on.
It was colder up here, and I was glad I was wearing my coat.
Shadows in the distance approached. A woman and her dog.
Could this be Chloe?
The dog was one of those medium-sized white fluffballs. The woman was in a long coat and a hat, but she appeared shorter than Chloe's height of five-five. I confirmed it wasn’t her when she and her dog passed the house.
I was about to leave when I noticed another person appear. Another woman, judging by how her workout gear clung to her curves. It seemed she had just finished her run because her attire was too light for a walk. My heart pounded when she slowed down in front of my target house.
I couldn’t make out her face, but the height and build fit. She was heading up the walkway when I decided to confront her.
I grabbed my purse and my phone and slammed out of the vehicle.
She turned around. Her hand was on something attached to a gear belt.
“Chloe Brown?”
“I have pepper spray.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d been sprayed before with my bullheadedness and nosiness.
“I’m Lucy De Lucci. A friend of Bruce Davenport.”
She hurried up the stoop. “Try again. You’re Lucy Zahkarova and you’re married to Kirill.”
Without missing a beat and despite my surprise, I said, “Not for long.”
She paused trying to open the door and laughed. Not in humor, but with grating mockery. “Well, that didn’t last.”
“Yes, he’s an asshole.” Who planned to murder me. “I was hoping to disappear after this,” I said. “But I want to know what Bruce Davenport has on the Kings.”
Her shoulders stiffened.
“Please, Miss Brown. I hated that I wasn’t able to help him, but I wondered if there was something he hid that I might have missed. That maybe his death wouldn’t be for nothing.”
“I thought it was an overdose.”
“He was under the influence the last I saw him.” I glanced around me. I’d been on pins and needles that Kirill would suddenly show up and spray me with a machine gun. Or that was too flashy. He’d probably shoot me with a tranquilizer, chop me up, and stuff me in a barrel.
“Please, can I come in?”
“You expect me to trust you in my house?”
“You know who I am…and I’m thinking you’re desperate too and have no one else to turn to after Bruce died. My family can help you.”
“You’re a De Lucci and still mafia.”
“Okay.” I blew out a breath and held out my purse. “My gun is in there, and I didn’t hold you at gunpoint because all I want is information. My phone is also in there. All I want is to help you.”
“Your coat?”
Jeez, fine. I stripped my puffer and dropped it on the front stoop. My skin protested at the frosty blast. “Fuck. It’s cold.”
Chloe smirked. “Yeah, come on in.”
It was a barren house, devoid of warmth. There were still boxes stacked up in a corner like she had never unpacked. Trevor said the house was fully furnished, and that she was just renting it. It was fully furnished all right with furniture that had seen better days in the sixties.
Chloe set my purse on the upper shelf of a wire rack that functioned as her pantry. Its shiny aluminum frame indicated it was the only thing new in this house.
She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “How did you find me?”
“You know what I do?”
“Some. You’re some kind of fixer. So I guess you know people.” She flipped on the fireplace and wrapped a shawl around her back.
“If you need to change out of those sweaty clothes, I can wait right here.”
“I’ll be fine. Start talking.”
She reminded me of Sloane and her no-nonsense attitude.
“I saw a picture of you and Ivan. You were five.”
She winced. A trace of anguish flickered in her eyes. “I was four. I never understood why Mom sent the picture to him. He abandoned us.”
“Wait. Is Ivan your—”
Her laugh was bitter this time. “Father? No. But he acted like one when Duncan couldn’t be bothered, but the second Irina got pregnant, he abandoned us.”
“Were Ivan and your mother—”
“I don’t know. Renée wanted more from Ivan. And I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
Damn, I felt a soap opera coming. The Zahkarovs and Kings were a messier affair than I thought.
“Because without Bruce, you have no one else to turn to?”
“Don’t try your condescending words on me. I could be a very rich woman, but I want nothing to do with King Industries. Shame I couldn’t turn over my shares to charity.”
“The trust,” I said slowly. “You know the conditions in it?”
“Of course!” Chloe said. “Bruce has been trying to get me to come forward and take control of them.” Agony slashed across her face. “Did he really kill himself? Or was he murdered?”
“Why would anyone murder him?”
“He’s the executor. I would suspect Kirill did it.”
My stomach clenched. “What would Kirill get out of it?”