“How are you feeling?”
“Honesty? I’m pissed,” Lucy Sykes says, sitting up in her hospital bed. There are bandages on her arms, a cast encasing her left leg, and some bruises on her face, but otherwise she looks remarkably good for someone who’s recently come out of a coma.
“Pissed?” I blink. “Why — do you need more painkillers? I can call the nurse.”
“Don’t you dare,” she grumbles. “Bad enough I missed all the action over the past few days. Now you’re going to call Nurse Ratched in here to force another pudding cup down my throat.”
Conor snorts.
I roll my eyes. “Trust me, it wasn’t that exciting.”
“Says the girl who had a bomb strapped to her chest while she faced off with the Evanoff brothers.” Her eyes narrow as they move from me to Conor. “Tell me you’ve got some surveillance footage I can check check out from the scene. Or at least give me some files to go over, while I’m stuck in this damn hospital bed.”
“Lucy, has anyone ever told you you’re a workaholic?”
She grins. “Only those who know me well.”
“Sykes.” Conor crosses his arms over his chest. “Just focus on getting well. We’ll need you to testify at the trial — it would be nice if you were alive and able to do so.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ll be there. Even if they have to roll me in on a stretcher.” Her ice blue eyes gleam. “Nothing in the world will stop me from witnessing the moment Viktor and Vladimir Evanoff are sentenced to life in prison without even the faintest possibility of parole.”
I can’t lie, I’m looking forward to that day as well. Knowing they’re locked up behind bars is comforting, but I’ll feel even better when we’ve thrown away the key.
Dasvidaniya, boys.
I’ll never forget how relieved I was to learn that, during our tense negotiations in the kitchen, Evelson had climbed through a small window in the garage and sliced an undetectable — but extremely effective — hole in the brake lines of my convertible.
Riding off with the Egg, the Evanoffs made it approximately two blocks from my house before their luck ran out — along with the remainder of their brake fluid. They plowed through an intersection and slammed into a tree, thus putting an end to their glorious plans of returning to the Motherland as heroes.
They tried to shoot their way out, of course, but the FBI tactical teams were on them before they could so much as scramble out of the car with their guns in the air. Kaufman and Evelson had them on the ground and in handcuffs within seconds.
As for theNécessaire… I’m sure it will look quite beautiful when we see it again next month — safely behind glass this time, during its grand debut at the MFA’s new Romanov Exhibit. And there it will remain for the foreseeable future… At least until Alexei Petrov sends more thugs to try to steal it back.
When he does, we’ll be ready.
“You know, you guys didn’t have to check on me.” Lucy’s eyes move from me to Conor and back again. “Together, I might add.”
“Was there a question buried somewhere in there, Sykes?” Conor asks.
“No question.” Her lips are twisted in a smile. “Merely an observation.”
I fight a blush. “Oh. Well… the thing is…”
“You’re together.” Lucy rolls her eyes. “About damn time, too.”
“Excuse me?” My brows go up. “I’ve known him for, like, a week! What do you mean,about damn time?”
“Oh, please. The only people who didn’t know you two were going to end up together… were the two of you.” She shakes her head. “Kaufman, Evelson and I actually had a pool going to see how long it would take. Hundred buck buy-in.”
“What?” I gasp, nose scrunching. “And, not that I condone you betting on our love life, but… who won the pool?”
“Kaufman,” she mutters darkly. “Optimistic bastard. Pegged you two falling head over heels in about three minutes. I, on the other hand, am a cynic. Thought it would take a month, given all the drama with your ex.” Her eyes light up. “Heard he finally signed those divorce papers, though. Congrats on officially being a free woman once more.”
“Thanks.” I grin. “Not being married has never felt so good.”
“Mmmm. Well, we’ll see how long that lasts.” Her eyes are twinkling playfully as they shoot back and forth between me and Conor. “May be time to call Evelson and Kaufman, get a new pool going…”
“Apparently my agents have so much free time they’re starting in-house gambling rings.” Conor’s trying to look stern, but his mouth is tugged up at one side. “Guess I’ll just have to pile on the work when you come back to the office, Sykes.”