Chapter 9
Hawk
The rotor winds down behind us. Kat steps onto the rooftop without hesitation. Me? I’m dealing with that kiss still surging through my bloodstream.
She’s not manipulating me. I’ve already given her what she wants — a return ride to the diamond fiasco and probable chaos.
Kat didn’t have to kiss me. That’s what unsettles me.
Engaging into protection mode, I move ahead of her, sweeping the access door to the stairwell. Initially, it appears locked. I test the handle anyway and it opens.
“After you,” she says, not mocking.
I step inside first finding the expected concrete stairwell. It’s narrow and I signal back to her with two fingers over my lips to be quiet. Echoes carry too easily here.
I move down two steps at a time, checking corners on reflex. Kat follows closely, not crowding or lagging. Halfway down, I pause.
“What?” she whispers.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just a feeling.”
We exit onto a secondary service level that connects to an adjacent building through a skybridge. It’s high-end architecture with glass walls, steel beams and will make us visible … unfortunately. Exposure disguised as elegance. Kat slows slightly as we approach the bridge.
“This is where they expected me,” she says.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why here?”
“Because this building has plausible deniability.”
I glance at her.
“Of what?”
“Of who actually owns it.”
That makes sense. It must be owned by a corporate shell company. Probably a private buyer with layered legal insulation.
We step onto the bridge. The city street spreads below us revealing traffic moving and people unaware. Everything appears ordinary. Too ordinary if someone is expecting her here.
Kat’s posture shifts.
“They’re early,” she says quietly.
“Who?”
“The watchers.”
I don’t see anyone immediately. Then I do. Two men inside the adjacent building’s lobby — not interacting, not speaking — but positioned. This is not random or casual observers killing time. They’re waiting.
We keep walking at a controlled pace trying to look normal and not in a rush. If we bolt, it confirms suspicion. If we hesitate, it confirms fear.
When we reach the other side of the bridge, the air feels different.
It’s still charged and even more so as the doors slide open automatically and we find ourselves on a second story mezzanine balcony overlooking the lobby area where the two men are.
They don’t look at us. But I have a feeling they know we’re here.
Maybe not, but I’m going to assume they know.
Kat moves slightly closer to me, not clinging, but like we’re a couple — partners. Kat’s hand brushes lightly against my forearm. I don’t read her touch as affection. She’s using it as a signal.
“They expected me alone,” she murmurs.
“Too bad,” I reply.
Below us, one of the men finally looks up directly at her … then at me. He says something quietly to the second man. The second man reaches into his jacket. My muscles tense.
But he doesn’t pull a weapon. He pulls a phone. A slim black burner. He lifts it just high enough for Kat to see.
His demeanor doesn’t seem threatening, but inviting.
“They want compliance,” she says under her breath.
“From you,” I answer.
“Yes.”
“And from me?”
“They don’t care about you.”
“That’s where they’re wrong.”
The first man steps toward the base of the mezzanine stairs. He stops at the bottom and looks up.
“Miss Morozov,” he calls evenly. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”
His voice carries without raising volume. He seems professional, almost a corporate type. Definitely not a street thug.
Kat doesn’t move.
“What kind of misunderstanding?” she calls down.
“The kind that benefits everyone if resolved privately.”
The second man walks toward the stairwell access that leads up to us. No guns drawn or sudden movements. But something feels inevitable with these two.
“They’ll separate us,” I say quietly.
“Yes.”
“You going with them?”
“Yes.”
That lands wrong in my chest.
“You don’t get taken anywhere without me,” I say.
“That may not be your choice.”
“It is my choice. I brought you here.”
She glances at me briefly. Below, the first man raises the phone again.
“This will simplify matters,” he says.
Kat exhales once, then walks toward the stairs offering herself. I grab her wrist and she turns.
“I need to hear what he’s offering,” she says.
“You don’t need to hear it alone.”
“They won’t agree.”
“They don’t have to.”
We reach the bottom of the mezzanine stairs. The first man holds out the phone with a polite smile.
“Your contact would like to speak with you.”
Kat takes the phone.
“Put it on speaker,” I say.
The man’s smile tightens.
“That won’t be possible.”
I step forward half an inch.
“Then neither is she.”
There it is, I’ve set the first boundary. The second man’s posture hardens, but not overtly. I can tell though … he’s ready.
Kat handles the phone, putting it on speaker. The voice that answers is calm, yet controlled.
“You’ve delayed long enough,” he says.
She doesn’t react outwardly.
“I was verifying irregularities,” she replies evenly.
“You were stalling,” the voice corrects.
My jaw tightens.
“You will clear the shipment,” the voice continues. “Now.”
“What if I’m not ready?” she asks.
There’s a slight pause on the other end. Then:
“You will make yourself ready. Once it’s done, you can collect your portion and move on from this. It only takes minutes to transfer … perhaps only seconds.”
This isn’t an escort for diamonds with things hidden. It’s coercion. I step closer.
“Tell him I’m coming with you,” I say loudly. One man reaches subtly toward his jacket. Wrong move, jackass. I pivot, twist his wrist, and slam him into the stair railing before he can draw.
The second man lunges. I disarm him cleanly without gunshots … just controlled violence.
Kat still holds the phone. The voice on the other end doesn’t raise in alarm. I find that interesting.
“Who is this?” the voice asks calmly.
I take the phone from her hand.
“This is the complication,” I say.
“You’re interfering.”
“No,” I reply evenly. “I’m restructuring.”
And that’s when the negotiation begins.