Nico dropped her backpack on the ground. A man with a leashed German shepherd approached. The dog sniffed the backpack for a minute, then pulled away. A second man approached and waved a metal wand over the bag. The wand’s slow beeping didn’t change. Moresco nodded, and Nico picked up the backpack, set it on the closest poker table, and pulled out the laptop.
Shit like this did not happen in real life.
Moresco lifted both hands, palms up, and raised one bushy eyebrow. “So, Ms. Cashman, what are you doing here?”
The sound of his voice was like a thousand tiny spiders crawling under her skin. She could see the evil in his near-black eyes. She’d sensed a darkness in him during their first meeting, but it had been muted. Now, the force of it staggered her. She’d miscalculated.
She would have been better off running.
Get your shit together. You’re imagining things.
She pointed to the bag, trying to keep her hand from shaking. “I think that laptop has your business records on it. The files arepassword-protected, so I can’t be sure, but I could see the names of the files, so I think they’re there. Dante gave me the laptop when I left for vacation. I know the servers were destroyed in the explosion. I thought you’d want it back.”
Moresco stepped toward her, and she had to look up to meet his gaze. He was trying to intimidate her, trying to make her feel small and inconsequential. It was working, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of showing she was afraid. She stood her ground, allowing him to encroach on her personal space.
“How did you know where to find me?”
This was the meat of it. She was here to bargain, and by running his mouth, Kemper had given her a better bargaining chip than the business records. He’d made her a pawn in his game, so now she had no choice but to play.
“Agent Kemper brought me here.” She lifted her bleeding arm. “He shot me, but I managed to get away. He’s been embezzling from you for years. The records on the laptop will prove it. Kemper found out that I told Armando and Dante about some accounting anomalies and was afraid you’d discover what he’d been doing. He’s the one who planted the bomb at Pannetone & Associates. He tried to cover up the embezzlement by destroying the servers and” —she swallowed—"murdering all those innocent people. But he didn’t count on you stepping out for espresso and Dante giving me the laptop.”
Moresco’s sallow cheeks flushed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Where is Kemper?”
Her palms were sweating. Her armpits were soaked. She fought to keep the nervous quiver out of her voice as she pointed in the direction of the smashed fence and smoking car.
“He wrecked his car chasing me. The last time I saw him, he was in a parking lot over that way. I ran and didn’t look back.”
Moresco jerked his head toward two burly men with dead eyes. “Find Kemper. Dispose of him.”
Despite the chill in the warehouse, perspiration continued to trickle down her lower back. Habit made her squeeze her hands into fists so she wouldn’t scratch her head, but she realized that, for the first time in months, her scalp was cool and comfortable. Not that it was any consolation. Moresco had just given his men a not-so-veiled order to kill an FBI agent. She hadn’t considered that Moresco would kill Kemper. If Kemper hadn’t gotten his ass out of here, his blood would be on her hands...and since Sal had issued the order in front of her, she likely wasn’t long for this world either.
Hot tears pricked her eyes. The Fates really were fickle. When her doctors told her that her cancer had returned for a third time, she’d examined her life, said her apologies, asked for forgiveness where it was needed, and prepared her soul. But then, a miracle happened: Remiza healed her. She let go of death and embraced life.
Now, she was going to die in a desolate industrial park without saying goodbye to her sister, without setting things right with Aleksei, and with the responsibility of putting Kemper’s life in danger clouding her karma.
Moresco stepped away from her, the air around her sweeter in his absence. He picked up a martini from the bar and took a sip, sighing with pleasure. He waved an elegant, tan hand toward Nico.
“Thank you for the laptop, Rosemary. Now, be a good girl and go with Nico. He’s going to take you for a walk. You’re a bit pale. You look like you need some fresh air.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but her tongue was too dry to form words. All she could do was wrap her arms around herself to try to quell the tremors coursing through her body as Nico’s hot, beefy hand settled on her back and shoved her toward the door.
This was going to be the last walk of her life.
She was going to die with her last words to Aleksei having been angry and harsh. She was going to die without telling him she loved him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cold air rushed over Rosemary’s hot face as Nico pushed the warehouse door open.
“Where the hell is Frankie?” he muttered, the fishy smell of his breath assaulting her nostrils.
Whoosh.
Something whizzed past her ear.
Nico grunted, gripped his neck where a dart protruded, and toppled with a mushy whomp, like a felled tree in the forest. Adrenaline flooded her already overstimulated body, making her lightheaded. She glanced right and then left but couldn’t see anything beyond the small sporadic lights affixed to the warehouse.
Run. Run.