I waited for the painkillers to kick in before I made myself stand. The shirt Kat had given me fell to my thighs but I could still see my floral panties. I limped out of the bathroom and down the hall, over the body of the hitman Kat shot. I entered her room and ignored her lifeless body on the ground. It was surrounded by a wide pool of blood that I refused to disturb.
I went to her closet and found a log skirt. I pulled it on from my head. My back still hurt and my gut wasn't any better. I also found some sunglasses that were big and wide and slipped them on my face. I limped back to the guest room and grabbed all my stuff, leaving them out on the porch. I made my way back inside to the kitchen. I grabbed the fuel tanks under the sink and poured the liquid around the house. I picked up some matchsticks as well. Most of the fuel went on the bodies. I hoped the fire I would set would destroy them too. At the door, I slipped into my shoes before lighting a match.
"Thank you Kat. Sorry I got you killed," I whispered then threw the stick into the fuel that quickly caught.
I stumbled away from the house, my bag in hand. My right leg was being annoyingly useless and I had to pick up a stick from the ground to help me walk. I was a limping— no hobbling— woman in a loose tee, long skirt and sunglasses. Jesus my life had taken a turn. At least now, I could put some blame on Viktor. He was why I was like this and I deserved to know why I was someone's punching bag and shooting target for the evening.
No one stopped me as I walked down the street even though the burning house had piqued peoples attention. I got a cab and asked him to drive me to the cheapest hotel in the area. It was an old building that seemed like a breeze could blow it down. I checked in, promising the kind lady at the front that I had a friend who'd be paying for me. She sympathized because I looked like a disabled and blind basket case. She got my room number and I told her to check in with me tomorrow evening when her shift begun.
Making it up the stairs was hard. The only available room tonight was on the third floor. It took a while to get there and the desk clerk didn't offer any help. The room was the last one down the hall and on opening the brown door, I was glad there were no floral patterns anywhere when I flicked on the light. There was a bed and a large black leather armchair in the corner by the window. The nightstand by the bed had a lamp and there was a door that led to the bathroom.
I placed my bag and room keys on the bed. It was dressed in a handmade quilt and two lumpy pillows. There was an old air conditioner under the window and it had been turned on so the room was warm. I hadn't realised how cold I'd been outside. Sweat run down my back and I settled myself at the headboard to catch my breath. I pulled my phone from my bag.
I dialed a number I never thought I would willingly.
"Privet," someone greeted on the other side.
"Hello. Am I talking to Markov?" I asked, trying to keep the breathlessness out of my voice.
"Kto eto?" Markov Makarovich demanded angrily.
"I don't speak Russian," You idiot.
"Who is this?" Markov asked.
"A friend," I answered. "I'm looking for Viktor. I can't seem to reach him on his number."
"Viktor is handling some business," Markov said and there was some shuffling and murmuring on the other side of the phone. "Would you like to leave a message?"
"They won't be able to track my phone," I stated, knowing what the Underboss might have been thinking. The line went quiet.
"You are the hacker Viktor is looking for, aren't you, malen'kaya devochka?"
"Maybe. I need to know where he is."
"Why?"
"That's for me to know and for you to find out Markov. It would be in your best interests to tell me where your nephew is."
I had to admit, calling Markov was not a good idea. I might have safe guarded my phone's location but provoking an Underboss? That was some next level shit. Markov wasn't the time to play around with his meal before he ate it. He was more of a 'shoot first, ask later' kind of person unlike Viktor. I'd intrigued the young Don and the same could not be said for his uncle who followed the old ways of doing things in the Bratva.
I understood a bit of how these illegal fraternities worked. I'd looked at their deals and contracts, studied their roots and their connection with the government. Everything was smart, planned for, clean. The only thing they didn't have was the safety and amazing hacker like me could provide. I could tie up their loose ends but their loose ends are the only leverage I have.
"You threaten me?" Markov laughed hard and long. "Malen'kaya devochka, you do not know who you are messing with."
"I do," I told the man clearly.
"You don't. You see, my plemyannik is a little soft eh? He likes to play games and weave around a problem before he strikes. He has you fooled I presume, letting you get away from his clutches just so he could have the thrill of chasing you down again. His fault is that he takes too long to act," Markov explained.
"Your problem is that you act too quickly. Had not been for your 'plemyannik' Markov, all mafias around the world would be exposed," I said and shifted into a more comfortable position. Another thing I was good at, bullshitting. "I have an accomplice somewhere else old man and if he does not hear from me, everything I know goes public. Of course, Viktor doesn't know how much killing me will affect his reputation and that of other powerful families like the Martinelli Familia and the Castellano Cartel. Imagine their surprise when they figured out a mistake of the Bratva got their businesses shut down."
The line was silent. "Of course Viktor would kill you first before the other families and groups destroyed the Bratva for their betrayal. It would be a war like no other."
"Liar," Markov spat. "Your silver tongue has no bounds."
"Are you so sure?" I asked Markov and then pulled out the locket around my chest and held it between my fingers. "You are willing to bet your life and the Bratva on your belief that I am telling tall tales."
Markov angrily spat Russian from the other side of the phone and I couldn't help but smile through my pain. It's the small things.
"I don't know where Viktor is," he said after a while.
"That's a lie. You talked to him recently. I still have a record of the conversation. Do you want me to play it for you Markov? I only need his number. It's not that difficult."
The last conversation between the two that I had was the exchange outside the hospital. I did not know if they spoke after but I was hoping. I was also praying Markov didn't figure out the fact that if I'd heard their last conversation, I would have his phone number. I closed my eyes and waited.
"I hope you have a paper and pen," he announced and then begun to read out the number. I let out a breath and typed it in.
"Thank you Markov. You'll be hearing from me again."
I ended the call. Luck like I possessed was not easy to come by. I dialed Viktor's number. The phone rung once, twice...
"I thought you'd be trying to run from me and not contact me."
I almost collapsed with relief at the familiar voice.
"Viktor," I breathed. Thank you Lord. Thank you so much. "I was afraid Markov had given me the wrong number."
"You talked to my Underboss? I can only imagine how awful that must have been," he said his tone breezy and smooth.
"Viktor we need to talk," I interrupted his carefree mood.
"About? As I see it Peach, I'm in the process of trying to find you to extract information from that smart head of yours and then slit your throat, making it look like suicide."
The seriousness in Viktor's tone reminded me of his true intentions. A shiver run down my spine and I had to shut my eyes to push back the fear. I'd had too much in the last few hours. It was starting to make me feel queasy.
"Things have changed Viktor," I said.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you have hitmen who'd like to take your head to their boss."
The line went silent and then there was a sigh and the sound of shuffling. "Explain."
"There are people out to get you Viktor. We can't talk about this on the phone though. I'm good at what I do but even I can't perform miracles. We need to meet. Face to face."
"How do I know this isn't a trap?"
"You don't but what are the chances I'm right. You have a new position which I'm sure some people are not happy about. The only problem is whoever wants you dead wants me gone too. I'm trying to save myself here."
I looked down at my shot leg and remembering the events of tonight, I shuddered and my heart raced. I realised then that my hands shook while holding the phone.
"That last part I believe," Viktor stated.
"So... if I tell you where I am you will come and not harm a single hair on my head?"
"Unless you want me to or this proves to be a trap, yes."
I was silent for a while, thinking. This was an awful idea but what other choices did I have. I would not make it on my own if more hitmen came my way asking for Viktor. I couldn't be running from more than one person. I wasn't that good.
"I'm having a hard time trusting you," I confessed.
"I can imagine," Viktor said back. "I'm in the same boat."
"I'm not that dangerous," I scoffed.
"Could've fooled me. I have a healing stab would to prove otherwise."
I rubbed my head. "Where are you?"
"Las Pavita," he answered easily. "I found your truck but you weren't with it. Just some idiots who've taken a lot of my time."
He'd told the truth. I know he had. There was no mistaking the irritation in his tone and the impatience in the gruffness of his voice.
"Where are you?" Viktor asked, his voice dropping to an almost soothing tone. I hesitated but only for a second.
"I'm uh... I'm in Brookehills about five hours out. I came on a bus," I told him.
"Why Brookehills?"
"I'll tell you everything when you get here," I promised. "I have a room in an old apartment building around Olsen Street I think. My room is..." I checked the key on the bed. "13."
"Got it. I'll be there in a few."
Viktor hang up and I sighed. Glancing at my phone, I wondered if I'd made the best choice.
"I don't think you have."
I looked up at my brother sitting on the bed in front of me.
"You're not real," I told him. I was probably just in too much pain and shock for my brain to function as it should.
"Ouch sis," he winced. "That hurts. I was there for you at Kat's place. I got you out of there."
I sighed. He did have a point.
"I'm going to call you right now. This wouldn't even be happening if you hadn't left," I said to my brother as I punched in his number. I knew it by heart.
"I'm not going to pick up Peach. You and I both know that."
If you're listening to this it means I'm too busy or you're too unimportant for me to pick up the phone. Do what you must. I won't promise to listen to your voice mail though.
"I keep seeing you around Peirce. This is probably because I'm shocked and delirious. Want to know why? I got shot. Yeah. You won't know that unless you pick up the damn phone. Jesus Peirce, one call would really change it for me. I know you don't want me in your life but I need you in mine. Call be back. Please. For old times sake."
I told myself that I would stop calling my brother. He told me he didn't want anything to do with me the last time I did. I just couldn't understand how he could move on knowing he left me behind. Dad... dad wasn't exactly reliable. I hadn't seen him in years but now I wanted to. I needed to see him, talk to him, hold his hand because despite everything, he was my dad.
I clutched my locket hard in my hand. I'd solve one problem then another.
I pushed myself down while removing my sunglasses and tossing them away. I lay on the bed properly, keeping more on the left side of the mattress because it was just more comfortable.