Kairos - Blood (MxM) | Book 2 | ✅

42.This Goodbye...

"Steve," a warm voice called my name.

Heavy eyelids refused to open and a groan grew in my aching chest. Both sides of my torso burned in waves as if serpents coiled around my ribs and squeezed until they cracked my bones little by little. Fervently, my mind sought answers to every puzzling sensation I was made to endure.

The cops. They had rained quite a beating on me and sleeping in the car had stiffened my body and dipped it into agony.

"Steve," the voice called again from behind darkness.

Henry. This must have been Henry. So I forced my eyes to open and clear away the sleep in rapid blinks.

Everything rushed back to me: Ginny, Sands and his threats. It wasn't over. No, it was only the beginning.

I looked around and tensed. "We're there?"

"Yes, sir."

Implacable in their charcoal existence, the streets shone with twinkling puddles and wet streaks. What few patches of snow had remained were now too dirty to be visible.

This was a friendly neighborhood of friendly working people and two story houses in neat rows, with neat fences, nestled inside the city and near a subway station. The rent must have been through the roof. But Richie could afford it as it seemed.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?"

The question made me turn toward Henry. I nodded.

He reached down to his right leg and for a moment I thought that he was going to pull out a gun from an ankle holster. But it was a mobile phone. Small screen with small keys — not a smartphone. He fast dialed someone on key '1'.

"Hey. It's me," Henry said into the phone after a while.

A vague man's voice reached my ears. It talked but I couldn't make out the words.

"The steakout team on Ravine — pull them."

Again the man talked.

"Yeah. Thanks, Frankie," Henry said before ending the call.

So his contact was Frankie, the fake mustache guy. Was 'contact' the right term? Handler? What do undercover cops have as partners within the force?

"It's done, sir," he spoke cutting me off from unnecessary thoughts.

"Which car do you think it is?" I asked looking around the neighborhood.

My money was on a dark sedan parked about eighty feet away. Smoke billowed out from a window if one looked closely enough. The gray strands twirled in yellow street lights close by. If I could see it so could any Russians. Cops or no cops, better to get Ginny away from this place. Somewhere safe.

"We'll find out soon enough," Henry said with a sigh and put back his small oldie phone. Cop phone.

"Ever tried to record Jack's meetings?" I blurted out on a whim.

"Yes," my soldier answered plainly.

"Did you get anything useful?"

His eyes closed and lips pursed unsuccessful in holding back a grunt. "Sir," he hissed.

"Did you?" I pushed.

Henry looked at me with a frown. "Are you asking if I have enough evidence to put Mr.Fox away?"

I gave a curt nod while my eyes peered at him intently.

"The short answer is: Yes. We can put him away."