Chapter 23 #2
“Sidorov,” I repeat, my desperation making my hand shake as I run it through my hair. “Do you have any way of getting to my wife? I’ve been stuck in traffic and I’m about to get a car, but there’s no way it’ll take me downtown fast enough.”
“She’s here with me,” he says finally. “We’re both in the club.”
“Jesus.” My heart drops. “You’ve got to get out of there. Fucking immediately. Evacuate the building.”
“Are you telling me you’re blowing up my club?”
“Like you fuckers did to my restaurant?”
“You were given warning.”
“And your staff is getting a call in five minutes. But Katya wasn’t supposed to be inside. I can’t risk something happening to her.”
“But I can get blown to pieces.”
“This isn’t the time to have feelings, stronzo! Get my wife the fuck out of the building.”
“You don’t need to worry, Andriani. I’ll keep my sister safe from the bomb your people planted.”
Then the line goes dead.
I stare at my phone. “Cazzo!” Then I dial him again. No answer. And again.
But Dmitri Sidorov doesn’t pick up.
If anything happens to Katya, I’ll never forgive myself.
Federico rolls up at last, fighting for a spot in traffic, and I walk in front of two lanes of honking, angry cars, not giving one single shit about their impatience or the fact that I’m causing a clusterfuck.
All I care about is getting to my wife.
Katya
“A bomb?” I repeat, my heart kicking into overdrive. “Are you kidding me?”
Dmitri is grim. “I wish I were.”
I swear I recognized the voice on the other end of the line. But I’m also having a difficult time wrapping my head around all this. Dmitri’s phone rings, but he looks at who’s calling and doesn’t answer.
“Was that Enzo?” I ask, going into full-blown panic.
“Yes. You have him and his stupid fucking minions to thank for this little stunt.” My brother calmly goes to his desk and packs up a laptop, stuffing it into a case. Then he moves to a safe on the back wall.
His movements are measured and steady, his face completely unconcerned. As if it’s every day that he’s told a bomb is about to explode inside his building.
As if this isn’t an emergency.
“What are you doing?” I demand, rushing over to him. “We have to leave.”
“Getting some things I can’t afford to lose,” he tells me as the safe beeps and pops open.
Inside, rows of cash and uniform-size bricks wrapped in plastic are neatly stacked. The thing is full, from top to bottom. I instantly know what’s in those bricks.
“Drugs? This place is about to explode, and you’re getting money and drugs out of the safe? Are you insane?”
“Absolutely, but this is necessary.”
He opens up a dark bag and starts dumping the bricks and cash into it, emptying the safe.
“Did he say how much time we have until the bomb goes off?” I swear I heard ten minutes, but my heart was beating so loud, I’m not sure I made out Enzo’s voice properly.
Dmitri doesn’t even spare a glance in my direction as he methodically cleans out the safe. “About eight minutes now, give or take a few seconds.”
“Dmitri, we have to go.” I grab my brother’s arm and pull. “Right fucking now.”
His phone starts ringing again, but he ignores it and me. Instead, he finishes clearing out the safe, emptying all the money and bricks of drugs into the bag. Then he takes up the bag and his laptop case and looks at me.
“Now we go. Take the stairs instead of the elevator. First door to your right, then go to the end of the hall.”
I don’t waste any time in following his directions.
We’re in the stairwell, his phone still going like crazy, my breath ragged not from exertion but from fear as we rocket down the steps.
In keeping with the mood of the club, the stairs are dark and lit with a black light.
When I reach the base on the floor below us and move to keep going, I miss a step and land hard, twisting my ankle.
Pain shoots up my leg as I crumple to the concrete.
“Fuck, Katya.” Dmitri is on his knees by me, his face finally a worried mask in the otherworldly glow. “Can you stand?”
“I’ll try.”
I’ve been injured before. It comes with the territory in ballet.
And this is an ankle that’s suffered from a lateral sprain more than once.
But when I struggle to my feet, the pain is so bad that all I can do is gasp and fall forward, catching myself on the railing. My gut clenches on a wave of nausea.
“I don’t know if I can keep going down the steps,” I tell him. “You go ahead. I’ll only slow you down.”
Dmitri kneels before me, still holding the bags in each arm. “Get on my back.”
“You can’t carry me and all those bags at the same time,” I manage. “You’ll fall and break both of our necks.”
His phone rings.
“Fucking fuck,” he mutters, whipping out his phone and looking at the screen.
I can see that it’s Misha calling this time.
He answers. “What’s up?”
I hear Misha’s voice on the other end but can’t make out what he’s saying.
“What Natasha said is true,” Dmitri says. “The Andrianis had a bomb shipped to Silk. We’re evacuating.”
Misha sounds angry on the other end. I can’t hear most of what he bites out, but then I hear, “…the fucking coke, the money, the guns.”
“It can stay,” Dmitri tells him. “What does it matter if it gets blown up?”
“It can’t,” I hear Misha snap. “The Feds will get called in. They’ll comb through everything. I already have some of my best men tied up in jail.”
“I have five minutes to get out of here,” Dmitri says. “I don’t give a fuck about what gets blown up. The Feds won’t find shit.”
They argue some more, and I can feel the pressure on my chest. We’re running out of time.
It sounds like Misha has more than just the drugs and money Dmitri scooped out of the safe hidden here, and he doesn’t want the scrutiny that will come with any of it being found and traced back to him.
But all I care about right now is getting out of this building before it blows up.
Finally, Dmitri hangs up and stuffs his phone into his pocket. Then he looks to me. “Get on my back, Katya. We don’t have time.”
I try putting weight on my ankle again, but it’s bad. I know I’ll never make it on my own. With a nod, I climb onto my brother’s back, and he starts giving me a piggyback ride down the rest of the stairs.