38. Dimitri
38
Dimitri
M y senses return to me slowly, one by one. The gritty feel of sand beneath me, the smell of saltwater, and the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore.
“Sir?” A hand rests on my shoulder and shakes it lightly. “Sir? Are you okay?”
“Should we call an ambulance?”
“Maybe the police, too? That looks like a gunshot wound.”
My entire body hurts and feels heavy, even my eyelids. But I finally manage to open my eyes. I blink several times before I can focus on the concerned expressions of the group of people above me. My injured arm makes it difficult to sit up, but I gather enough strength, and ignore the offers to help from strangers.
I need to get out of here. Wherever here is because I’m not safe. Sergei will hunt me down and he won’t stop until he finds a body. The men he sent to kill me have been under my command for so long. How quickly loyalties shift. Not that I blame them. I’m sure Sergei painted me a villain. I wonder what Alexei thinks of me now and hope he wasn't among the men on the bridge. I hope not. I'm still not certain if he betrayed me, but if not, I'd love the chance to explain myself to him. Even if I never earn his forgiveness, he deserves the truth.
I climb to my feet, my balance wavering as I regain my equilibrium.
“Sir? We called an ambulance for you. Maybe you’d like to sit down on the bench over there?” one stranger suggests and gestures to a weathered wooden bench.
“No, I’m fine.” I choke. My throat is raw from my ordeal tonight and hurts to talk. “I need to go.”
“Wait, you need to be seen. You’re bleeding.”
The stranger’s protest falls on deaf ears as I shove him away, which causes me to stumble unsteadily for a few steps. But I quickly regain my balance and turn to the staircase that leads to the parking lot. My hands clutch the railing of the staircase tightly and by the time I reach the top, most of my senses have returned to me, along with my next steps.
Scanning the parking lot, I spy an older Jeep with no doors leaving it open to the world and free for the taking. I pull my knife free from my wet pants and make quick work of opening the compartment under the steering wheel to hot wire the vehicle.
My thoughts drift to Gabriella as I pull out of the lot. I want to go to her. But not yet. It’s too dangerous. Sergei knows my true identity, but I don't think he knows about Gabriella. And I need to keep it that way. I need to keep her safe. Keep our family safe.My phone’s shot to hell. It's soaked and useless now. It won’t even turn on. Still, I know it can be tracked, so I toss it out the side of the Jeep into the water as I drive past. Which also makes my necklace worthless too. Without my phone, it can’t connect to the app. Until I can get to the cabin and activate a new phone, that is, and even then, the necklace is wet and will need time to dry out before I can attempt to use it. I just hope I can reach Gabriella before her appointment and before she hears the news of my treachery and assumed death.
By the time I make it to the cabin, my arm is throbbing and has bled through the dirty towel I found in the backseat. The house is dark when I enter and empty of threats. Still, I set the perimeter alarm to be safe because the last thing I need is a surprise when I’m not at one hundred percent.
I should take care of my arm first, but I grab a container of rice and bury my necklace in it, instead. Priorities.
After that I strip out of my wet clothes and step into the hot shower. The water feels wonderful on my chilled skin but causes my bullet wound to sting as it cleans away the dirt and saltwater. I'd love to linger in the shower but I need to stitch up this wound and then figure out my next steps.
I never realized how extremely difficult it is to stitch up a wound with just one hand, and since I’m no doctor, my sad attempt will surely result in a scar. But really, what’s one more scar in the grand scheme of things?
I pop a few pain pills before I head to my office to grab a new phone. As it loads, I take a seat and check the cameras. Before I know it, a wave of exhaustion falls over me. Resting my head on the chair’s back, I stare down at the spinning symbol on the phone’s screen and close my eyes.It was only meant to be for a moment while I wait for the phone to load, but when I open my eyes next, several hours have gone by and my perimeter alarm is going off.
An unmarked black SUV is making its way down my driveway. I recognize it and curse under my breath. I tuck a pistol into the waist of my pants, and rush out of the room to meet my unexpected guests. Slipping outside, I tuck myself into a dark corner of the porch and watch the car’s lights break the tree line before it parks in the circular drive.
A familiar face exits the vehicle. It’s Jacob, and I don’t care for the troubled expression on his face. His reason why exits the car next.
Ford.
The man has aged more in the years I’ve been gone, but I’ll never forget a face. Especially his.
Fury fills me. I don't care if it's the President, Jacob knows better than to bring anyone to this cabin.
“The hell kind of back hole hideout is this?” Ford asks, disdain clear in his voice. “This is his safe house?”
Jacob scans the treeline, his eyes casually sliding across the canopy. He thinks I’m up there. Had there been more time, I would be.
“I really shouldn’t have brought you here, Ford.”
Ford waves off his concern. “It doesn’t matter. His fucking cover is blown anyhow. Nowhere is safe for him.”
Jacob looks surprised at the director’s admission. “Wait, his cover’s blown? You said he was in danger and that’s why we had to come here. Not that his cover was blown.”
An unsettling feeling grows as I mentally go through a list of possible traitors. Because someone is. I was too careful, so there’s no way this is because of me. Nor was it the DiAngelo’s. As angry as they are about the truth, they would never do that to Gabriella. Which leaves Alexei and the two men in front of me…
…but based on Jacob’s reaction to the news of my cover being blown, it wasn’t him either.
I place my hand on my gun but don’t yet draw it as I step out of my hiding spot."How did you find out my cover was blown, Ford?"
Ford spins toward me, opening his arms wide like some kind of welcoming gesture. "Ah! There you are, Clark."
I don't return his greeting. "Answer my question."
Ford sighs like my question is unnecessary and beneath him to answer. "It's all over the department."
A quick glance at Jacob tells me that's a lie. So what else is he lying about? I tug my gun free but keep it behind my back. "I don't see how that's possible, given I only just learned it myself."
"Word travels quick."
“You told Sergei,” I guess. “You’re the reason my cover is blown.”
Ford smirks, confirming my suspicion.
“Why?”
“Why?” Ford repeats back. “Because you were starting to get too close.”
“Too close to what?”
“The truth.”
“What truth? That Sergei is behind the human trafficking in Miami?”
Ford snorts. “Sergei is nothing more than a pawn.”
Jacob steps around the vehicle and approaches Ford cautiously. “Ford, what did you do?”
Realization hits me like a bolt of lightning. “It’s you. You’re the boogeyman. You’re the one behind the human trafficking.”
“What?” Jacob asks in shock but I ignore him. My focus remains on Ford.
"Why?" I ask. “You greenlit the mission to look into the human trafficking. Why would you do that if you’re the one behind it?”And then the reason clicks in my brain. “Because how better to keep an eye on an operation than from within, right? With a man on the inside, you can control the narrative.”
“You always were a little too smart for your own good,” Ford states, shaking his finger at me. “Truthfully, I never expected you to find anything. Tell me, how did you find that warehouse?”
I’m not about to reveal my source. Not to this traitorous bastard. “Pure luck.”
“Bullshit. Who told you?”
“No one.”
Ford draws his gun and points it at me. I expected as much at some point. “Tell me.”
“If you think a gun is going to scare me, then you really don’t know me very well.”
Ford cocks his head from side to side, as if weighing my words. “Fair enough.” Then he points the gun at Jacob. “How about now?” He pulls the trigger, and Jacob falls to the ground with a painful shout while he clutches his bleeding leg. I’m ready to raise my gun and fire, and ask questions later, when Ford steps in front of me and levels his gun at my chest.
“Back up and toss that gun you’re hiding into the woods while you’re at it,” he orders, and I begrudgingly obey.
Fucking Ford. I need to get rid of him. Dead or alive. One way or another.
“Tell me who else knows about the fucking warehouse.”
“I don’t know,” I answer him, adamantly sticking to my resolve to keep the DiAngelos safe, because if I don’t make it out of here, I can’t let them be next on his list. “The address was anonymously sent to me.”
"Fuck!" Ford snarls, spinning around in a circle, and gripping his hair with both hands. “Dammit! It was probably that Alexei bastard. Sticking his nose where it doesn't fucking belong. I warned Sergei about him. Said he was too loyal to you and not him."
Lord, I hope that's true.
Taking advantage of his distraction, I inch toward Jacob. If I can get to him, I can get to his gun.
“Don’t you fucking move!” Ford shouts when he notices me.
I turn to him only to see the butt of a gun coming toward me and then nothing.