Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(63)

“The car is ready,” Alexei informs me as he pockets his phone.

He follows me from the room and walks me downstairs as promised. When we reach the front door, he pauses.

“I know that Nikolai can be difficult. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. You are my wife’s friend now, and there is always a safe place for you here.”

My throat burns as I thank him. It’s a nice offer, but the truth is, there is no safe place for me in this world.

Franco is waiting outside as promised, but I falter when I see Mischa standing there. I haven’t seen him since the Christmas party, and he isn’t supposed to be here now.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He opens the door and gestures for me to get inside. I look at Franco. He is the one who drives me home, but today, he simply nods and walks back into the house.

“Just get in,” Mischa says.

I hesitate for only a second before I read the urgency in his eyes. He isn’t supposed to be here, but whatever’s happening, I trust him. I get into the car and put my seat belt on while he walks around to the driver’s side. He starts the ignition, and the car rolls down the winding drive of Alexei’s private estate.

I’m waiting for him to tell me what’s going on, but he doesn’t. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel, and his entire body is rigid.

“Mischa?”

He glances at me across the car, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he hates me a little right now.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

“Why did you pick me up?”

“Nikolai doesn’t know I’m here,” he admits. “If he finds out, he’ll kill me. You’ve got one chance, Nakya. Just this one. If you don’t get out today, then you’ve signed your own death certificate. Do you understand?”

It almost seems too easy, considering the painstaking amount of time I’ve invested in planning my own escape. Franco was supposed to drive me today. I would have asked him to stop at the gas station, insisting I had to use the bathroom. Franco has always accommodated my requests, and I knew this time would be no different. But I wasn’t going to use the bathroom. I was going to run.

That was the extent of my plan. There wasn’t really any follow-through because I had none. I only knew I had to get out. But now Mischa is offering me an escape on a silver platter, and I’m still trying to discern if he’s really as trustworthy as I thought.

“You have no choice,” he says, reading my mind. “I’m the only option you’ve got.”

“Why are you doing it?”

“Because it will destroy Nikolai if anything happens to you because of him.”

I don’t believe that, but there’s no point in arguing. My focus is on the future. My focus is on escaping.

“How are we going to do this?” I ask.

“There’s a bag in the trunk.” He tips his head back. “Some food, money, and a coat. I’m going to stop in Pittsfield and drop you off at the bus depot. You buy a ticket. Whatever the first bus is, I don’t care, you get on it. And then you keep getting on buses or trains to get wherever the fuck you want to go, preferably on the opposite side of the country.”

“That’s it?”

He glares at me. “What the fuck more do you want? I’m not a travel agent.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just … I’m freaking out.”

“Just be smart,” he says. “Once you’re off the East Coast, you’ll be doing all right.”

I wish I had as much confidence, but I just nod.

The drive is tense and quiet. And when Mischa pulls to a stop at a curb, I genuinely don’t think I can do this. I’ve never gone anywhere by myself. I don’t even know how to buy a bus ticket or figure out the schedules or pick a place to go.

“Nakya.” Mischa shakes me from my thoughts. “The bus depot is just up the street on the left. I can’t drop you any closer. You have to go now.”

He pops the trunk and leaves the car running. This is it. He’s not getting out, and I’m on my own from here. I know how much he’s risking by doing this for me. He’s already done enough, and my panic isn’t the way to repay him.

I unbuckle and get out of the car, pausing to look at him one more time. “Thank you, Mischa.”

He swallows and nods. “Don’t forget your bag.”

I shut the door and grab the backpack from the trunk. Mischa is gone in a blink, and I’m left standing on the curb, feeling as lost as I’ve ever been.

I glance up the street. The bus depot isn’t far, but I need to get to the crosswalk. It’s a busy intersection, and the middle of the day, so traffic is thick. Attempting to blend in, I join the other pedestrians waiting to cross. My heart is racing, but I try to make it look like I do this all the time.

The light turns, and I move with the crowd. So far, so good. On the other side of the street, we disperse. I’m in the clear, but I feel more vulnerable walking down the street alone. The traffic is at a standstill, so I keep my head down and try to avoid attention as I pass the cars.

It feels like an eternity until I make it to the oddly shaped building, even though it’s only a short distance. I’m almost to the glass door when an eerie feeling creeps over my skin. Something prompts me to look up, and when I do, my heart stops.