Exiting the stairwell, I cautiously move down the hallway. I can hear them speaking Bulgarian as I get close to the partially open door.
They’re getting the girls ready to ship them to Saudi Arabia and South America.
I take a deep breath, and moving fast, I enter the room. I take the first man out with the Glock and the second with the Heckler & Koch. As Debrov reaches for his weapon, I fire three bullets into his chest.
Walking closer, I look down at him. “Svoloch',” I spit at him and then shoot him in the head. Scum.
The girls don’t scream. They just stand frozen, probably already traumatized out of their minds.
“Run,” I bark.
The youngest begins to cry while the older two do as I say. She’s too scared to move, and close up, she looks ten, at the most eleven years old.
I don’t have time, and tucking the Glock behind my back, I grab hold of her hand. Leaving the office, I drag her behind me.
I’m on high alert and rush down the stairs. I don’t see the other two girls until I step out of the building. They’re running toward the main road. Good.
I hurry to where I’ve parked the car and bundle the little girl into the passenger’s seat. I strap the seat belt over her and then slam the door shut.
I shrug my backpack off, and once I’m behind the steering wheel, I shove it down by her feet. Starting the engine, I pull away, and hoping she speaks English, I ask, “What’s your name?”
“D-D-Dimpo.” Glancing at her face, I only see snot and tears.
“Where are you from? Where’s home?”
“M-Malawi,” she stammers.
Fuck. I don’t have contacts in Malawi.
I pull my phone out and dial Alexei’s number.
“Yes?” he answers.
“Do you have contacts in Malawi?”
“Yes. George Lekgari. I’ll send you his number.”
“Thanks.”
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes.”
We end the call, and seconds later, Alexei sends me Lekgari’s details.
While I drive to where my private jet is waiting, I call Lekgari and arrange for him to come to Egypt to get the kid. I give the airfield’s coordinates where I’ll be waiting.
I keep checking for any tails I might have picked up, but there’s just the usual traffic. When I steer us away from the city, I let out a breath of relief.
I hope the older two girls find someone who can help them.
Reaching the airfield, I park the car. I get Dimpo from the passenger side and say, “Come.”
She nods and sticks to my leg as we walk toward Omar, who gives me a questioning look seeing as I’m a couple of days early.
I remove the envelope with the fee he charged from my backpack and hand it to him. When his eyes go to Dimpo, I say, “We need to lay low for eight hours. You never saw the kid.”
He tilts his head. “That will be another hundred K.”
Yanking my phone out, I make the payment.
When he receives the funds, he asks, “Are you leaving tonight?”
“Yes.”
He nods at my private jet. “I’ll get your plane ready. You can use my office.”
When Omar walks to the plane, I turn to Dimpo. Her eyes are wide on me. “A friend of mine will come to get you. He’ll take you home.”
She nods, using the back of her hand to wipe under her nose.
I place my hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You’ll be okay.”
She nods again, lost sobs fluttering from her.
Opening my phone’s screen, I send the text.
Contract on Thomas Debrov: Closed
I also send a message to the pilot to get his ass to the airfield. My eyes go back to Dimpo, and she asks, “Are you a good man?”
No kid. No, I’m not.
Crouching next to her, I say, “I’m a friend.”
“I really get to go home?”
Tilting my head, I nod, then I ask, “Do you have parents?”
“A mother.”
“You’ll see her soon. Okay?”
And I’ll see Hailey.
Chapter 24
HAILEY
Even though I get along well with MJ, and we’ve become good friends, an aching loneliness has settled in my heart.
It doesn’t feel like Carson is watching me anymore. It’s been that way for a week now.
He left. I just know it.
Sitting next to MJ while we eat our dinner by the waterfront, my eyes stare blankly at the ocean.
“What’s wrong?” MJ asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Why aren’t you eating?”
I take a bite of kebab, not really tasting it.
“Hailey.” MJ nudges against my arm. “Talk to me. You’ve been like this the whole day.”
“Do you know where Carson is?” I ask.
“No. Why don’t you message him?”
“I’m supposed to forget about him,” I mutter, dropping the rest of the kebab in the container.
“Why? What happened between the two of you?” she asks for the first time.
She knows about that horrible night, so I figured she knew why I broke up with Carson.
“I found out he’s an assassin.” The words don’t carry the sting they always did.