In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(132)

“I couldn’t stop him,” Sam said. “I would’ve saved him if I could.”

Misha made a sharp, pained sound in his throat and didn’t reply.

Sam was all out of segues. “I’ve lost Sveti,” he said. “I can’t call her, because she left the phone. She’s in danger. I think she’s with the guy who had her parents killed, but she doesn’t know what he did.”

“So why are you calling me?” Misha’s voice was utterly remote.

“Because someone must have planted a trace on us, at some point,” Sam pressed on. “Maybe your father. They caught up with us and Sasha at that old foundry, and I can’t see how he could have followed us otherwise. Unless he already knew where Sasha was.”

Misha was sullenly silent.

Sam’s knuckles were white. “Did he know? Did she have a trace?”

“He did not know,” Misha said heavily. “And, yes, she did.”

His heart thudded, like a horse galloping downstairs. “Where? Shoes, purse? Where?” His voice was getting louder.

“Not in her clothes,” Misha said. “On her body.”

His control snapped. “What the f*ck are you talking about? How could it have been on her body? No one’s touched her body but me!”

“On her head,” Misha said.

Sam gaped. “Huh? Her head? How . . . ?”

“They put a trace under her scalp, day before yesterday,” Misha said. “I listened in on a phone conversation. Seems strange to me that she did not notice. Such a thing should be painful, no? The incision ?”

“Wha . . . but who? Who?”

“I do not know his name. He is a man who has worked with my father for many years. The client and my father both wanted something that they thought Sveti could find. My father wanted Sasha, and The Sword of Cain. They put a trace so they could follow as she searched for these things. Perhaps she is out finding them right now.”

It smashed into him, head-on. So f*cking obvious. “That fall, in the atrium. They said she fainted. Bumped her head. They drugged her and tagged her. Those f*cking bastards. I’m ripping their arms off.”

Misha grunted his approval. “Do something more permanent.”

“I’m on it,” Sam promised. “Do you have her frequency?”

“I could have found it for you,” Misha said. “But not anymore.”

“Why not?” he bellowed. “You have to!”

“I am bolted inside a basement room in my father’s house,” Misha said. “Papa locked me in before they came after you and Sveti. Josef came to tell me Papa was shot through the heart, and Sasha ripped apart by bullets. All Papa’s men have gone. He said I would die of thirst, unless the police found me. If I had the strength left to call out when they arrive. Then he left. I yelled for help. But it’s true. I am alone.”

“Wow,” Sam said inanely. “They let you have a phone in there?”

Misha snorted. “No, fool. I keep my SIM card taped to my leg. I hid a charged phone in this room. I knew I might end up here. He’s locked me in before. Sasha spent months in here sometimes.”

One life-threatening disaster at a time, for the love of Christ. “So why haven’t you called someone to let you out? You’re just sitting there? Doing what, Misha? Sulking? When you have a phone on you?”

Misha was maddeningly silent.

“Damn it, Misha!” he yelled. “Talk to me!”

“I do not have anyone to call,” Misha said. “Only Sasha and Mama would have cared enough to come and let me out, and they are both dead. There’s no one left. They’re all gone.”

Sam felt it settling over him, like a smothering blanket. The unwelcome load of fresh responsibility. He could not field this right now. He had Sveti to worry about. Lord knew, she was enough of a job.

“Not possible,” he snarled. “No one?”

“No one that will risk it.” Misha’s voice was eerily tranquil. “Knowing my father’s men, what they are capable of. I called Sveti, but I did not talk to her. She could not help me, I know. She has problems of her own. I just called to hear a voice in the dark. She said nice things.”

He was being jerked around, big time. And he knew just exactly where this was going. “So call the cops! They’ll get you out!”

“They don’t give a shit about me,” Misha said.

“They’re bound by oath and law to protect the citizenry, no matter who their father is! And it’s better than starving to death in a closet!”

Misha made a noncommittal sound, clearly not convinced of this.

“You’re going to sit there in a cage with the charge on your phone dying because the world hurt your f*cking feelings?” Sam bellowed.

Misha’s stubborn silence made him frantic.

“Call the cops!” he urged. “I’ll make a deal with you. Ask for their help, and I promise, I will personally make it my business to make sure that from now on you will always have someone to call if you’re locked in a hole.”

“Bullshit,” Misha said. “No one can make such a promise.”

“Kid, I just did. And I meant it.”

“You are a cop,” Misha said. “You come and get me.”