Chapter 20 Paper Trail #2
“No,” I said. “You don't.”
“I know.” He exhaled slowly. “I know you have to go. I know you're good at this. I just need you to know I'll be counting the minutes until you're back.”
“I'll be back.”
“Yeah.” He grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door. “You better be.”
Then he was gone, out to the back of the house, and I stood in the kitchen for a moment with the weight of what he'd said settling into my chest.
“That went well,” Dmitri said from the doorway.
“Don't.”
“I'm not criticizing the plan. The plan is good.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I'm just noting that you've got more personal stakes in this one than you're used to. Worth knowing about yourself before we go.”
He wasn't wrong. I didn't say so.
“Ten minutes,” he said, and went back to Luka.
I followed him back to where Luka and Ash were pulling the equipment together.
“The phone just pinged a tower in Lincoln Park,” Luka said. “Moving south. Whoever's carrying it is on the move.”
“Then we follow.” I grabbed my jacket and checked that my knife was still in the inside pocket. “Let's end this.”
We loaded into Dmitri's SUV. Luka riding shotgun, Dmitri driving, me in the back. Ash stayed at the house to coordinate with the backup team and monitor communications.
The drive into the city was quiet. Just the engine and Dmitri's occasional muttering in Russian as he navigated the traffic.
“The phone's stationary now,” Luka said. “Lincoln Park. Residential. Expensive.”
“Home base or a meeting point,” Dmitri said.
“Either way, we get eyes on the location.” Luka pulled up the map. “See who's there.”
We parked three blocks out and went on foot. Tree-lined streets, brownstones, renovated buildings that cost more than most people made in a year. The phone's location put us at a building mid-block. Four stories, well-maintained, security entrance.
We took position across the street. Dmitri set up a long-lens camera pointed at the entrance and we settled in.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. A few people came and went, none of them matching what we were looking for.
Then at seven forty-five, someone came out of the building.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothes with a jacket that was too heavy for the temperature. They walked with a controlled deliberateness that had nothing casual about it, every step placed with intent.
Dmitri zoomed in and captured their profile as they moved toward a motorcycle parked at the curb.
Black sport bike. The same one from the bank footage.
My blood went cold. “That's him.”
“Certain?” Luka's hand was already on his phone.
“Same build. Same bike. Same everything.” I reached for the door handle. “We need to follow.”
“Wait.” Luka grabbed my arm. “Carefully. We don't spook them.”
The figure pulled on a helmet, black and full-face, every feature obscured. Then they turned and looked directly at our vehicle.
Even from across the street, even through the tinted windows, I felt the weight of it. They saw us. They knew exactly who we were and they weren't surprised.
“Fuck,” Dmitri muttered.
The figure mounted the motorcycle and started the engine. Then they reached into their jacket, pulled out a phone, and held it up so we could see it clearly.
The burner we'd been tracking.
They held it there for a moment, then dropped it on the pavement and drove away.
“GO!” Luka shouted.
Dmitri hit the gas. We jumped the curb, fishtailed back onto the road, and the motorcycle was already two blocks ahead, weaving through traffic with a reckless control, taking turns that shouldn't have worked and cutting gaps that barely existed.
Always far enough ahead that we couldn't close the distance, never so far that we lost sight.
They weren't trying to escape. They were playing with us.
My phone rang. Unknown number.
“Hello, Troy.” The voice was processed through a modulator, completely unrecognizable. “Enjoying the chase?”
“Who is this?”
“You know who this is.” A pause. “Though you've been too stubborn to admit it.”
“Fuck you.”
They laughed. “Such hostility. And here I thought we were having fun.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you need to learn about consequences. About what happens when you interfere with things that don't concern you.” The voice went cold. “And because hurting you hurts the people I actually want to hurt. Which makes this efficient.”
“If you want me, come get me directly. Stop hiding behind the hired muscle.”
“Oh, I'm not hiding. I'm right here.” Another pause. “And so is Declan. At the recovery center. Working late. Alone except for the security that won't save him if I decide he needs to die tonight.”
My blood turned to ice. “You touch him and I'll—”
“You'll what? Kill me?” They laughed again. “You'd have to find me first. And you're terrible at that. Been chasing your own tail for weeks while I've been right in front of you the entire time.”
The call ended.
I dialed Declan immediately. It rang twice and he picked up.
“Troy—”
“Stay inside. Lock the door. Don't go near the windows.” My voice came out harder than I intended. “Do it now, Declan.”
A beat of silence. “What's happening?”
“Just do it.”
My phone buzzed before he could answer. Text from an unknown number. A photo attached.
Declan, visible through the front window of the house, phone pressed to his ear.
Taken from the street. Taken right now.
And below it:
Unknown
Tick tock, Troy. How fast can you run?
“Dmitri, get back to the house. Now.” I was already pulling up the security team's number. “They've got eyes on him. He's inside but they're right outside.”
Luka was already on his phone. “Full team to the house. Immediate.”
Dmitri spun the wheel and I watched the motorcycle's tail light disappear into the traffic ahead of us. Gone. Always exactly one step ahead.