Page 38 of Hostile Witness

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Page 38 of Hostile Witness

Tia put her phone on the charger and considered the crime-scene duo cleaning the hood of her car. A rather tall woman closed what from a distance appeared to be a metal box. Hopefully, the results would yield a fingerprint for one of Ethan’s cases.

Mo was right. She should chill out about Ethan being a detective. It wasn’t his fault her ex had been one, too.

23

Ethan slid into the limo, rapping twice on the glass separating their Sanctuary driver from the back. The vehicle eased onto the country road and slowly pulled away. He glanced at Gus and nodded. The second he settled back into his seat, he sensed a stalemate in the negotiations.

Gus waved a finger in admonishment. “That was a terrible waste of a young woman’s life.” He tossed Romanov’s phone to Ethan. “Find me the wife’s number. This idiot here is being most uncooperative.”

Ethan scrolled Romanov’s contacts, most of whom were women. Nadia’s name had a little house icon next to it. He opened the contact and handed the phone to Gus. “Her name is Nadia. She’s at home with Aleksandr, his son, and Mariya, his daughter. The eldest daughter, Polina, is a junior in college nearby. Shall we pick her up first?”

The panicked flicker in Romanov’s eyes told him his information was spot-on.

Gus gave an evil chuckle. “No, we’ll save Polina for last and bring her to the boss as a special present. Let’s see what Romanov’s wife has to say about him.” With an exaggeratedflair of his fingers, he tapped Nadia’s phone number. Romanov remained stoic, but the sweat pouring down his face spoke volumes.

A woman answered the phone in a burst of screaming Russian fury. “Pavel, there are men outside and two waiting in the foyer. What are they doing here? None of our guards are answering their phones.”

Ethan shook his head. The last time he’d heard a woman that upset was when he’d had a last-minute Sanctuary rescue on his wedding anniversary. He’d returned home to find a blanket and pillows on the couch. He found out later that that night was only one of the many times he’d disappointed his spouse. She had a list—a really long list—of infractions pertaining to him. Lesson learned. Marriage wasn’t for everybody... especially his ex.

Pavel leaned as far forward as his tethers would allow and addressed Gus. “You hurt my family, and I will kill you.”

Gus shrugged. “Where are the women we purchased?”

“You want a gang war? I’ll give you one. I have friends in high places who’ll squash you like a dirty cockroach.”

Gus raised his eyebrows. “Where are the women?” With the iciness of a chilled summer Chablis, he examined his nails and cracked a tight smile. “Those men won’t leave your house until I tell them to. Where are the women?”

“Give me your word you won’t touch my daughter Polina.”

“You’re not in a position to negotiate, Mr. Romanov. Where are my women?”

The phone line had grown quiet, and Nadia started to weep. “Tell them whatever they want to know, Pavel. I don’t know what you’ve done, but tell them what they want so you can come home to me and Polina stays safe. Please.”

Gus disconnected the call. “Where are my women?”

Romanov exhaled a deep breath. “At a campground on the west side.”

“Address.”

“I don’t know. It’s off I Ninety-Five. Boris does the driving.”

Ethan leaned forward in his seat. “You do realize we’ll question your family if you lie to us?” Maybe this guy didn’t give a crap about anyone. He’d just allowed one of his employees to supposedly die in the woods.

Mac chimed in via their earpiece. “Tell him we have Polina. She’s at a friend’s house in Fort Lauderdale.”

Ethan pretended to scroll on his phone. He held it up for Gus to see. “They found Polina. She’s with a friend in Florida.”

“No, stop.” Romanov sat up straight.

Good call on Mac’s part. Polina was obviously Romanov’s Achilles’ heel. “Address?”

“I only know the place by sight, no address. They’re not at the campground but in a blue warehouse at the south end of the airport. It’s easy to find. I’ll recognize it.”

Ethan rapped once on the bulletproof glass, and it slid open. “South end of the airport.” The driver picked up speed and swung onto a ramp for 95 South a few minutes later.

With Romanov stammering directions, the limo wound through the myriad of buildings, cruising to a stop at a dark-blue warehouse. Mac’s crew and the Feds had followed their vehicle from a safe distance.

His heavy eyebrows raised, Gus inquired, “This is it?”




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