“I’m not a fucking princess!” she snapped.
A thud from upstairs whipped my head around before I glanced back at Rachel. Fear and anger warred in her eyes. Calvin would have died before taking blood from me, so I understood her reluctance.
Rachel moved to my side and went to her knees. She took a knife from her belt and jerked my free arm to her. Not a word was said as she jabbed me with the point of her knife. I looked away before she put her mouth to my skin.
Another thump from upstairs, not as loud as the first but closer. Madre de Dios.
I took my hand from Ivan and he sat up, his wounds healed over and his eyes brightened with energy. He grinned and winked at me. Then he pointed at Rachel and laughed silently. She jerked her head up and glared at him.
I grabbed her, spun her around, and put a hand over her mouth. Time for the shoulder. Ivan scooted between us. “I’ve done this lots,” he whispered as he took her arm and jammed it back into place with a quick twist. “Besides, shouldn’t she get to hate us both?”
Rachel lurched to her feet, but I could already see the color improving in her face. She took a step, touched her arm and collarbone and then looked at me. I gave her a quick nod, grabbed a new hoodie from a stack of clothes, and pulled it on. Tight it might be, but I would need it if we were caught in the sun.
Laying a hand on Ivan’s arm, I brought his attention back to me and spoke in a low whisper. “Look for a window. It won’t be big considering how little light there is down here.”
I moved to Rachel’s side and she shrunk from me. Only a little, but it was there. I fought not to let that bother me.
Upstairs doors were being opened and closed in rapid succession. “We don’t have much time. What is the dog doing?” she bit out.
“Smelling for a fresh air source,” I said. I had a great sense of smell, but it was to Ivan’s as mine was to Rachel’s.
He reappeared from around a stack of boxes and crooked a finger. Somewhere in the piles of random shit, he’d found a new shirt, I noticed. Bright yellow with white stripes—hardly incognito. More surprising was that it fit him.
Rachel and I hurried toward him. He flicked the window open. “Ladies first.” He put his hands on my waist and swung me up to the ground-level window. I grabbed the ledge and pulled myself through. Rachel was right behind me. Ivan had to twist to get his broad shoulders through, but he managed. Crouching, we hurried across the front lawn and down the road. “Run,” I said.
Ivan took off, and so did Rachel. I bolted after them, hard pressed to keep up. Of course, they were both tweaked out on my blood, while I had been weakened by my donation.
It was nice not to have to carry anyone for a change. I ran beside Rachel, keeping time with her. She glanced at me once, and her eyes widened as she seemed to realize the significance of what was happening. “Holy shit, I’m keeping up with you.”
“’Bout fucking time,” I threw back. She grinned, her eyes a little wild. That would ease as my blood faded in her.
We ran for another hour before the sun began its inevitable rise. I slowed them down with a wave of my hand. “Let’s arrange for that private jet. I think we can manage to do it without using all our money. Ivan, can you act like an asshole? I need you to pretend to be Victor once we board the flight.”
Rachel snorted. “He’s a man. It’s not an act.”
“Bitter much?” He tipped his head to one side, looking for all the world like a dog begging for a treat.
“Stop it. I can get someone to pick us up and take us to a private airstrip. I can’t make them see someone who isn’t there, but I can make them believe you are Victor.”
They both turned to me and Rachel frowned. “I’m not sure I like it.”
My turn to frown. “It’s Victor’s. And I’m not entirely certain which of his people know I’m the one who killed him. Or if they even know he’s dead.”
Ivan laughed softly. “Well, let’s see if it works.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed the emergency number I had for Victor’s right-hand man. “Who is this guy you’re calling?” Rachel asked.
“He handles all of Victor’s non-business ventures. An assistant of sorts,” I said as I waited for the other end to be picked up.
“So he’s Victor’s Alfred?” Rachel asked. I frowned at her. What the hell was she talking about? And how did she know his name?
Ivan grinned. “That’s totally what it sounds like.”
“Doesn’t look like—”
I turned my back on them.
“Good morning. Is that you, Lea?”