14. Nicole
14
Nicole
A million thoughts course through my mind about what to do, where to go. I don’t have my phone. I don’t have my purse or wallet. I have nothing except the clothes on my back.
To say I’m having some conflicted emotions about my current situation, given what just fucking happened with Leo, would be a monumental understatement.
Why did I tell him about Sofia? Why did I trust him?
Because he doesn’t lie. When he said he would help me, he was telling the truth.
But if life has taught me anything, it’s that the only person you can truly rely on is yourself.
If Leo can keep his promise to me and advance his own interests at the same time, then he’ll help me. But if helping me goes against his agenda, he’ll definitely push his own interests.
I need to find my aunt. Sofia’s life depends on it.
Everything I had at the motel is gone: ID, money, my weapon.
But I am a resourceful girl, one who plans in advance. I had my aunt’s people store a bag for me at a facility near Huntridge Park with new ID, money, a phone, and a weapon. There’s a second bag stored near the Mob Museum downtown. The lockers have code-based access. I just need to get to one of those locations.
A plane flies overhead as I look for a street sign. Rainbow Blvd. I’m near the North Las Vegas Airport. It’ll take me about three hours to walk to the Mob Museum. Longer to get to Huntridge Park.
Mob Museum it is.
I start walking. It’s hot, but there’s a shiver inside of me that quickly extends to every limb. Fear, uncertainty, doubt, and mind-blowing orgasms will mess anyone up, mentally and physically. Especially when they happen all at once.
I walk past a wall of windows and freeze when I see a woman reflected there. I spin, but there’s no one else near me. I’m alone. I almost laugh when I realize the reflection is me. There was no mirror in my holding cell. This is the first time I’ve seen myself in days. No glasses. Hair wild and shaggy. Cargo pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt that follow the lines of my body.
Such small changes, and for a second, I hadn’t realized I was looking at myself.
Small changes on the outside. But what about the changes on the inside?
I swallow and shove those thoughts to the back of my mind as I keep walking.
I am no different than I was. I am still me.
So why am I trying so hard to convince myself of that, to convince myself that everything I knew and believed is still true, that my loyalty must remain with my aunt, with my heritage? Why do I feel like I no longer want to be someone else’s pawn?
I’m tired and thirsty by the time I reach the street that the storage facility is on. I’ve been careful, watching my back to make certain I haven’t been followed, taking side streets and cutting through parks whenever possible. Almost there now. As soon as I retrieve the bag, I’ll buy a burner phone and a huge bottle of water and chug back the whole thing. Then I’ll find a place to hole up for the night.
I approach the storage facility, a terra-cotta colored building with a rusting fence out front. On the opposite side of the street, a chain link fence separates me from a barren stretch of sand and dry grass. I walk past the facility and take up surveillance beside a red pickup that’s parked at the side of the road.
I wait for fifteen minutes or so. No one goes in or comes out.
I cross the road, and head inside. Minutes later, I’m walking out with my backpack slung over my shoulder.
I’m barely ten steps from the door when a black limo pulls up in front of me. The back door opens.
“Sofia misses you,” says a deep male voice with a hint of a Russian accent. I know that voice.
“She misses cotton candy,” I say, my heart pounding.
“She does not like frogs,” the man replies, completing the code that confirms he is my aunt’s emissary. Of course. They must have been watching for me. Or the guy behind the counter at the storage place alerted them to my arrival.
I hesitate by the open door of the limo. What if this man is the bomber? I don’t know which of my aunt’s people I can trust.
I consider my options. He knew the code, which means my aunt gave it to him. She’ll be expecting me. If he is the bomber, I doubt he wants to reveal his hand. Besides, he’s not about to blow up the limo with him in it.
I get inside, finding myself alone with a man with gray hair and gray eyes. I recognize him. His name is Danila, and he was one of the mercenaries on the yacht.
He nods a curt greeting but says nothing more.
I nod back. There’s no reason for conversation between us, not that I have anything to say to him anyway. He’s the courier and I’m the package. The important thing is, he got to me before Leo did.
Even as I think it, something inside of me wonders if I’m wrong, if I should have stayed in Leo’s warehouse cell and waited for him to find my sister and bring her to me.
I almost laugh out loud at how idiotic that sounds. I am not the type to sit back and wait for someone else to get my work done for me. And trusting Leo is something only a fool would do. I shake my head.
Fucked senseless, that’s what I am.
If I let him, he’ll make me lose all sense of who I am, what I stand for, and what I’m fighting for. Just because Leo Russo gave me the best sex of my life does not mean I should trust him. Just because he told me he would find my sister does not mean I should trust him. In fact, my inclination to trust him probably means I shouldn’t be trusting myself right now.
Leo made me come, and suddenly he’s a good guy?
I’m so fucking weak.
My sister’s safety depends on me. Me, alone. I need to remember that.
Danila doesn’t offer one to me, but I grab a waiting bottle of Perrier. I’m parched, so I drink it down in one long gulp. Then I settle back into my seat and try to gather myself together, to remind myself that I need to be strong.