Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
When I finally tracked down this other Russian, I was going to take great pleasure in putting a bullet in his chest, just for the offense of his name being attached to my girl’s.
Barb’s brow furrowed. “But she never answered her door. It’s not like her to miss plans. We could hear the music, but she also didn’t answer her phone. We had a key to her place, but someone misplaced it.”
Millie turned to face Barb, hands on her hips. “I didn’t misplace it. I just forgot the special place I put it.”
Turning from them, I reached into my pocket for my copy of Vivian’s key. As I placed it in the lock, Millie commented, “So it looks like you have a key to her place, too. Just like the other Russian. He was such a handsome man as well. Although I think he has more tattoos.”
Barb helpfully added, “And he was a tiny bit taller, I think.”
Change that. I was going to shoot the bastard in the face.
I opened the door and stepped inside, moving past my own traveling trunks.
If the situation wasn’t so alarming, I’d laugh.
God, I loved the moxie on her.
Turning, I raised my palm to the women. “Stay out there. Just in case.”
I pulled my GSh-18 semi-automatic pistol from the shoulder holster and entered the dim interior. Stretching my arm out, I shut off the stereo on the kitchen counter as I surveyed the space.
I badly wanted to rush around each room like a madman screaming her name, but I knew better. If there was someone holding her hostage, the last thing I wanted to do was startle them.
Plus, the element of surprise wins every time.
Fortunately, her apartment was an open space with the two bedrooms directly off it. Hallways were always a bitch.
Glancing into the first bedroom as I passed, I could easily see it was empty.
That meant the closed door was my last option.
Easing to the side of the threshold, I reached for the doorknob and slowly turned it.
It wasn’t locked.
A good sign.
After the click, I pressed against the door with my shoulder.
It didn’t budge.
Something was clearly pressing against it from within the room.
I knew it wasn’t Vivian. It wasn’t her style to hide from an argument with me.
Her assailant?
The other Russian?
Odd though that they wouldn’t call out a demand or order.
It was then that I smelled a strange chemical pine vapor emanating from the room.
I shoved at the door. It shifted open barely an inch, but it was enough.
Just on the other side, my girl was lying on the floor.
CHAPTER 33
VAR
Two Chicago police squad cars screeched in behind me as I stopped directly in front of the ambulance bay at the nearest hospital.
As I opened my car door and raced around to the passenger side where Vivian lay unresponsive, they drew their weapons.
“Get down on the ground.”
“Stop where you are!”
“Down on the ground!”
I turned and faced them. “Put those fucking guns away.”
If Vivian were to suddenly open her eyes, the last thing I wanted her to see was a bunch of cops with guns trained on her.
Throwing open the passenger door, I gathered her in my arms and turned toward the emergency entrance.
The cops ran up to us. “We didn’t know it was you, Mr. Rubashkin. What can we do?”
Just then, an orderly came running out. “You can’t leave your car there!”
I gestured over my shoulder to the cops. “They’ll move it.”
Crashing through the swinging emergency doors, I called out, “I need a doctor here! She’s not breathing.”
Two nurses and a doctor ran over.
As one nurse turned to get a gurney, the doctor leaned over Vivian and lifted her eyelid. As she shone a light on Vivian’s pupils, she asked, “What happened to her?”
My gaze fell on Vivian’s still features and her faintly purple lips. My stomach twisted so painfully, I wanted to vomit. She was usually so full of passion and fire. To see her body lifeless in my arms, her cheeks ashen, was almost more than I could bear.
“I’m not sure. She’s an artist. I found her in a closed room with a chemical smell.”
The doctor turned and gestured for the gurney to roll up to her side even as she brought a stethoscope to Vivian’s chest. “How long was she exposed? Do you know?”
“I don’t.”
Against common sense, I wanted to keep Vivian in my arms. There was a primal need to try to warm her body with the heat of my own. To try to somehow share my beating heart, my very breath. It wasn’t remotely rational, but I wasn’t thinking rationally.
My girl. My beautiful, stubborn, full-of-life girl was possibly dying.
And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
As they strapped Vivian down, the doctor shouted orders over the chaos. I tried to follow but was stopped by a nurse. “You need to wait here, sir.”