He’s also a murderer.
I shudder, thinking about how easily I could have died when I learned the truth about him. A wave of revulsion and self-disgust washes through me when I remember that I’d been intimate with that man.
“If you have any cold-weather gear, pack that as well,” Dozer calls out from Thea’s room. It startles me into action, and I move for the dresser.
“Are we going north?” I call back.
“Maybe,” is all he says, and I know we don’t need to waste time or energy on these details right now. Dozer is the smartest man I know. Far smarter than most on this earth. He knows Borovsky escaped mere hours after it happened, and he’s got that mega brain that has probably already run all the probabilities of Ivan’s next move.
I trust him that time is of the essence.
I first grab some clothes to change into, and since we’re essentially going on the run, I make it practical. A pair of workout leggings, a tank, zip-up hoodie, and my running shoes.
In the bathroom, I snag the wrap off my head, scrubbing my scalp lightly to fluff the mass of dark curls that spring out in all directions. To avoid a bursting bladder, I pee, wash my hands, and brush my teeth. While in the bathroom, I grab a travel bag from under my sink and sweep the array of makeup and skin care products into it.
From the closet, I grab my suitcase and start tossing clothes inside, focusing on sensibility versus fashion. Dozer is back in my room before I’m finished. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”
I don’t argue with him. If it’s truly not enough, I’ll buy what I need later.
Moving to my suitcase, Dozer dumps an armful of clothes on top of mine. I smile when I see that he’s clutching Thea’s favorite pink teddy bear. While she’s outgrown her need to cuddle with it when going to sleep, it always stays on her bed, and Dozer knows it will be a comfort to her. I have a feeling scary days are ahead of us.
Dropping my toiletry bag on top of the clothes, I zip my suitcase. “Did you get ahold of my mom?”
“She’s going to meet us at the hotel where we’ll stay tonight while we figure things out.”
I turn, but Dozer’s right there, taking the suitcase from me. I follow him to the front door where I shove my phone and keys in my purse and sling it over my shoulder.
I’m thunderstruck when, rather than opening the door, Dozer hands me the teddy bear and pulls a gun from a chest holster under his jacket. He nudges the curtains to the side and peeks out into the early-morning gloom.
“A gun?” I whisper, having no clue why I’ve dropped the decibels. But he’s got a gun, and now I’m afraid someone’s outside the door. “You have a gun?”
“Just a precaution,” he replies in a low voice.
“Since when do you carry a gun?” My tone turns slightly shrill, although I’m still whispering.
Dozer’s gaze moves around the front yard. “I don’t carry one normally. But I do know how to use it, and I’m not taking any chances.”
“Ivan can’t be here yet. It’s physically impossible for him to travel from New York to Miami in that amount of time.”
“He doesn’t need to be here to grab you, JJ.” A pang of fear punches deep into my chest. Ivan Borovsky has many criminal friends and family to rely on. They’d be more than happy to grab and hold me for his arrival.
“Shit,” I mutter, my hand going to Dozer’s back. I crowd in close to him, as if just his presence is protection enough. “Do you see anyone out there?”
“I don’t.” He lets the curtains go and turns toward me, putting us practically nose to nose. I step back to give him room as he stares down at me. “Go quickly to that SUV behind your car. I left it running. Get in the passenger seat and lock your door. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I’m freaking out,” I whisper.
“You’ll be fine,” he says, taking my elbow and giving it a squeeze. He then pushes me toward the door.
I open it and step out onto the porch, Dozer following me. I reach for my keys, intent to lock my door, but Dozer shakes his head. “Just get in the car. Quickly, now.”
In my mind, I know he just wants to be efficient. I know there’s no one hiding behind a bush, or Dozer wouldn’t have let me out of the house, but the fact he doesn’t even want me to take a few seconds to lock my door has me on the edge of a nervous breakdown, as if a car full of Russian mafiosi will barrel down the street at any minute.