Chapter 30
Thursday, middle of the damn night, Greene household
A t the sound of a thunk, Gabby rolled over and crammed the foam earplugs deeper down her ear canals and pulled her eye mask down farther. Could her granny possibly take one night off midnight sex? The woman was eighty freaking years old—didn’t she need some rest? Not to mention maybe Burt “Used to Be a Doctor” Jones would be more alert if he tried sleeping through the night.
“Go to slee—” she started to yell out of sheer frustration, when an arm reached out, yanked her out of bed, and covered her mouth.
“Shh!” a masculine voice hissed. “Shut up, suka.”
Gabby stifled the scream building in her chest. The better-than-nothing dart gun was out of reach under her bed, in a locked case to boot. This was bad, real bad, but it could get worse. The kidnapper was right about one thing, she did need to be quiet. The spare room she was sleeping in was tucked right between Granny and Burt and the kids, whom she didn’t want to wake. Instead of screaming, she bit the hand clasped over her mouth.
“Pizdets!” The kidnapper let go and shook his hand. He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her out of the room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.
Smirnov was sitting on one of the high stools. Mr. Bubbles was at his feet, duct tape wrapped around his muzzle. Silenced and shamed, he belly-crawled to Gabby in apology with a whimper. Gabby reached down to scratch poor Bubbles, but the goon pulled her to her feet and shoved her on a stool across from Smirnov.
“Did you hurt my dog?” she said, prepared to exact vengeance, if necessary.
“No, do I look like an asshole to you? I shut him up so that I wouldn’t have to.” He reached down and scratched Bubbles. “He’s a good boy.”
Well, that was something. But why was he here?
Smirnov picked up a piece of Lucas’s leftover pizza. “Are you feeding your children this shit?”
“It’s a cauliflower crust and Daiya cheese. Why are you here, Smirnov? I gave you the codes.”
He glared at the pizza and took another bite. “I never would have hired you if I knew about this.”
“Allergies. My boy has allergies, and he’s dairy- and gluten-free. It’s really a challenge.” She stopped before she gave her usual allergy mom speech, and gathered her breath. “But I gave you the codes.”
The grizzled mobster, too big to fit in her kitchen, looked back at her. “Where is the father, Phil, I think?” Smirnov shook his head. “Girls can eat cauliflower, but boys.” He gestured to Lucas’s school picture. “Look at that boy. He needs some meat and potatoes.”
Gabby shook her head. “What is it with men and meat?”
Smirnov looked at her like she didn’t understand anything, and then held the pizza slice high and dropped it on the counter like it had personally offended him. “Enough with the pizza.” Staring directly at her, he announced, “You fucked up, Gabby Greene.”
Chin high, she said, “I copied all the files on Kramer’s secret computer, the computer where he makes his transfers. The codes should have been on there.”
“They weren’t.”
She looked around the kitchen for anything she could use to defend herself. The roach spray Phil had brought over was almost within reach. This man was going to kill her and her family if she didn’t do something. She lunged for the spray, aimed at Smirnov’s face, and pulled the trigger, but nothing came out.
The goon who had brought her downstairs wrenched her arm behind her back and took the weapon away. He held the roach spray up and announced, “You can’t shoot with the safety on.” He twisted the nozzle to the ON position to demonstrate. He shoved her back in the chair.
Smirnov tsk-tsked her. “What can I do with you now? Did you give the EOD the codes?”
She shook her head no. “They got the same thing you did.”
“How can I trust you?” With resignation, he said, “It’s over. Mischa, bring the family down.” He pulled out a gun and set it on the counter in front of him. “We’ll see if she’s lying or not.”
Gabby’s heart rate went through the roof.
“How many kids do you have?” With a glance at a family picture he said, “Two, the one with the purple hair and the one who can’t eat real food.”
Gabby’s breathing tightened. The walls were closing in and her vision was starting to blur. She shut her eyes and focused. If she didn’t get them out of this, no one would.
“Please don’t hurt my family.”
“Oh, I’m hurting your family, one by one until you tell me where the codes are. And if you don’t tell me anything I believe, you are all going to die. You last. That’s what happens when you fuck with the Mafia.”
Her stomach heaved, and she vomited on the floor in front of her.
“Pizdets,” he swore. “I thought you were a professional, Greene.”
Gabby wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “I will do anything,” she pleaded.
“What do you think, I will trade a blow job for your life?” He laughed. “You’re more na?ve than I thought. I need those codes. That is all that you can do for me. If you can’t do that, then you’re done.”
“You don’t understand. I’m not even a spy. I don’t work for the fucking EOD.” She blurted out the truth in an impassioned frenzy. “I never even heard of the EOD until last week.”
He laughed. “Whatever. You’ve been working for them for months.”
“No, that was Darcy. We just happened to look alike, and when she was murdered, the EOD found me and asked me to take her place. I’m just a housewife who happens to look exactly like a double agent!” The words came out in a rush.
Smirnov stared at her with a flat expression, like he was trying to think of how to respond. Then he started laughing, first quietly, then louder. Thank god she had those white noise machines for the kids. They could sleep through anything.
“I have to hand it to you, Gabby Greene, you’re funny.” He gave her an amused look. “You might want to try writing, because that’s a pretty good story.”
“It’s true!” she yelled.
He snorted. “Go get the kids,” he told the goon who could definitely do more with his life.
“Mischa,” she pleaded, “we had a moment in the driveway the other day. I know we did. I know you are a good person. Please leave my kids out of this.” Then she turned to Smirnov. “Just give me until after the party. Kramer is meeting with Sergei Orlov there. They have to be exchanging the codes then. Give me one more chance.”
Smirnov held up a hand. “One more chance, but if you don’t deliver, I will kill your family one by one while you watch.”
Burt chose that moment to wander into the kitchen right while Smirnov was making a motion to slit someone’s throat. Oblivious, Burt pushed past the Mafia boss, who was taking up some of the space in the aisle, and grumbled about no one pushing in their chairs. “Damn kids.”
“Excuse me,” Smirnov said in a loud voice.
Burt grunted and pulled a wedgie from between his butt cheeks while he checked out the food options. The fridge light cast an eerie glow on his old, wrinkled face in the otherwise dark room.
“Who the fuck are you?” Smirnov asked Burt.
Burt rearranged a few bottles until he found the prune juice, because apparently constipation was his only concern at the moment, not the Russian Mafia literally wagging a gun at his backside.
“Hey, you!” Smirnov tried again while Burt poured himself a glass like no one was in the room with him. Did he ever notice anyone?
Smirnov repeated himself. In a loud voice, he said, “Hey, who are you?”
Burt looked around for the first time and blinked in Smirnov’s face. He threw back the prune juice like it was a shot of tequila and shook his head in disapproval. “How many boyfriends do you have, Gabby?” he asked, more judgmental than impressed, and kept moving until he got to the bottom of the stairs.
To Smirnov he said, “Make sure and use protection. This girl gets around. Just like her grandma.” Then he did finger guns with a clicky noise.
Unbelievable. Gabby stared after him with her mouth hanging open. Thanks a lot, Burt. She really needed to talk to Granny about this guy. A hot sex life at eighty—aspirational. Burt—no thank you.
“Who the fuck was that?” Smirnov asked, staring after Burt like he wasn’t sure whether to kill him. “I’m trying to threaten you, and he’s pouring a fucking glass of juice?”
“My grandmother’s new boyfriend. He’s an idiot.”
“Do you want me to take care of him? We might have beef, but I would do you this favor.” He clenched his fist and growled. “If someone was threatening my granddaughter.”
Gabby smiled. “Thanks, but I think I’ll do it myself.”
“Attagirl.” He nodded his head.
“No, I mean, I’ll just evict him.”
“That’s up to you, but I don’t think it’ll work. If you want to end something, you end it.”
He stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of his pants. “Get me the codes by Saturday. I don’t want to repeat this.”
She took a shaky breath, crisis averted, at least for the moment.
“And don’t try anything. I’m going to have people watching the house until I get those codes. No sneaking the kids out. No getting a new security system. No nothing.”
Gabby nodded.
He stood. “I’ll see myself out. Good to see you again, Gabby.”
An hour later, Gabby finished cutting the last of the duct tape off of Bubbles. Thankfully, she hadn’t taken him to the groomer’s for a while, so she didn’t have to cut close to the skin. As she finished, Granny wandered out in the satin robe Gabby had bought thinking she might be able to glam up SAHM life. It still had the tags on it.
Granny went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured two fingers of whiskey in a tumbler and slid it to Gabby. She poured another for herself.
Plopping down on the stool Smirnov had vacated, Granny said, “Okay, tell me what’s going on.”
With a dumb stare, Gabby just managed an “umm.” There was nothing she could say. Also why burden her grandma?
“Is it man trouble?” Granny asked with a knowing look.
Bingo. That was safe. “Yes. You met Markus last night.” Last night felt like a week ago so much had happened.
“Mm-hmm. Easy on the eyes, that one.”
“It’s just that we work together, and…”
“Gabby, you’re an assistant. If you find true love, or even just some really hot—”
“Yes, good point, Granny.” Gabby cut her off. “Also, I’m not sure if I can trust him.”
“Listen to your gut, but remember you don’t have to trust him to enjoy him, if you know what I mean.”
Gabby shook her head. “We only have a few days left working together.” Laughing at herself, she said, “I gave him a thank-you gift.”
Granny burst into laughter. “A what? Isn’t the man supposed to be giving you the gifts? Gabby, play hard to get, why don’t you?”
“It’s 2024, Granny.”
“Things haven’t changed that much.”
“Anyway, it was a little awkward.”
Granny shook her head. “Okay. Here’s my advice—no more gifts. You wait for him to make the move. And if he wasn’t sweet enough when you gave him that present, tomorrow, go in salty. That’s what works for me. Keep ’em on their toes.” She nodded, satisfied with her own wisdom.
“Good advice, Granny.”
“You can invite him over to watch that Russian psychic show we both like.” She popped an ice cube out of her whiskey and crunched it. “I want to get to know this boy you don’t trust a little more.”
Gabby harrumphed. That wasn’t a bad idea. Let Granny vet him. They each finished off their whiskeys, and Gabby crawled back onto her futon. What were the odds the Mafia would haul her out of bed twice in one night?