Sex workers all over the state knew and hated Kasym. He was hurting them, and no doubt word has spread not to take him as a client, leaving him to prey on only the most vulnerable girls.
And now they were free from him forever.
The two women leap out of the bed and back away from the pool of blood soaking into the sheets around the man, but neither of them look away.
“Thank fuck,” one of them murmurs.
“What now?” asks the other.
“Now,” I say as I step forward to inspect the body, “the two of you need to disappear. Things are going to get very hot, very soon.”
“The goons outside won’t give you any trouble?” the second asks.
“No. They’re almost as tired of these rich bastards’ abuses as you are. The staff tonight is who got me here in the first place.”
The two of them exchange glances, then nod. “We’ll get the word around that this fucker’s dead. Make it sound like someone on the inside did him in, maybe put the fear of God back in the higher-ups.”
I give a single nod. “Good.”
“You gonna be okay?”
I glance at her briefly. “Don’t worry about me. I was never here.”
The door opens, and one of the bodyguards with an uzi at his side peers in. We exchange a look, and he nods, beckoning me out to the escape route he has planned.
Despite all my precaution, I know this is almost a foolishly brazen move on my part, but I had to do it to keep Cassie safe. I may have succeeded in rallying the blue-collar criminals against the sex ring in New York, but silence can’t be assured from so many people, even in the best of conditions.
There may be retaliation from this. The only question is how much the Bratva still knows about me.
20
Cassie
I wake up from a pleasant dream just past midnight to a horrifying, loud crack followed by the sounds of glass shattering. I sit up ramrod straight in bed, looking around in terror. For a moment, some part of my brain tries to dismiss the sounds as psychosomatic, just figments of my hazy, sleepy mind. But then the bedroom door bursts open and Andrei comes bolting in. Blinking my eyes in the low light, I can just make out his grim expression and panicked eyes. I have never seen him look like this. Andrei is never afraid. Never.
As he rushes to my side I grab for him and ask, “What was that? What happened? I heard a horrible noise — ”
“Nothing, printsessa, but I need you to get up and put on some warm clothes for me, okay? It’s time for us to go,” Andrei says, helping me out of bed and running to grab me a sweater and a coat. As I ease into the sleeves of the sweater, struggling to pull it closed over my bulging stomach in my nightdress and warm leggings, I look up at him in confusion. The clock reads 12:17. Where would we possibly have to go in the middle of the night? What is going on?
“Where are we going?”
Andrei yanks a duffel bag out of the closet and starts stuffing random sweaters and pants into it — all winter clothing, though it isn’t even that cool outside anymore. He doesn’t answer me as he hurriedly tosses a pair of boots my way and squishes several thick scarves into the bag.
“Andrei!” I cry, stomping my foot. “What are we doing?”
“Put on the boots,” he says simply, not even looking up.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I fight the urge to just give in and submit to his order, standing my ground. This is insane!
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Finally he looks over at me, fixing me with one of those cold, hard glares. A chill runs down my spine. I know he is angry — even if the anger isn’t actually directed at me.
“Cassie. Please. We need to leave, now.”
His voice is low and deliberate, and I sigh, sitting down to pull on the boots. Andrei opens a box in the back of the closet, one I have never noticed before, and withdraws a little blue booklet, along with a manila folder filled with some official-looking documents. He stuffs these items into the front zipper pocket of the duffel bag, as well as a thick wad of hundred dollar bills.
“What is all that for?” I demand to know, running up to him and trying to unzip the bag.
Andrei catches me in his arms and holds me by the shoulders, peering into my eyes.
“You have to trust me, lapochka. It is my job to keep you safe, and I will do exactly that. But you have to listen to me and do as I say,” he explains softly. Suddenly I am truly afraid. Keep me safe? From what?
“Okay,” I reply weakly.
Andrei grabs the duffel bag, takes me by the hand, and leads me quickly out of the bedroom into the living room. There is a loud zinging noise as something impossibly small and fast whizzes by just in front of us, putting a hole in the wall. I scream and fall back into Andrei’s arms, my heart racing.