“Even in luxury?” Dmitri asks, raising an eyebrow.
“This is nice.” I lean back in the plush leather chair. It swivels and is unlike anything on a commercial plane. “Your boss didn’t mind loaning you the plane?”
“One of the perks of the job,” he says with a laugh. He must be good friends with his boss.
After we land, Dmitri has a rental car ready and waiting for us. He opens the trunk, tossing our bags inside before coming around to the passenger side to open my door.
I expect the drive to take hours since we’re in the middle of nowhere, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. In a matter of minutes, we’re pulling up at Blue Sky Resort. It’s a ski resort, although it’s too warm to ski this time of year.
The outside of the building is freshly painted in bright blue and white. Did they remodel the place?
I step out of the vehicle, and Dmitri escorts me inside.
He already has reservations and acquires two room keys, handing me one of them. Not that I plan on exploring the town without him. The only reason I’m in Montana is to make sure that he’s all right. After everything the man has been through, making him come here alone doesn’t feel right.
He doesn’t have anyone.
And for some reason, I want to be his someone.
Which is crazy since we’re just friends. Friends who sometimes sleep together and go on fake dates to help each other out. That’s what friends do, though, right?
After we check in to the hotel room and drop off our bags, we head out to grab dinner. It’s getting late, and I’m starving. “When are we going to that address that you have?” I ask.
“Tomorrow.”
I have no idea what he’s planning to do when he sees the man who might have shot him. It had to be an accident. Right?
Why leave Dmitri? Did the shooter think that he’d go to prison for murder?
And I swear I heard two gunshots ring out. Had the other shot been fired into the ground?
There was only one body.
My head swims with the different possibilities from that day.
We settle on a restaurant on the mountain, which gives us a nice, scenic drive as the sun sets. My phone buzzes in my purse, and I grab it, glancing at the caller. It’s work.
I’m surprised that I get reception out here.
“Hello?”
Antonio’s voice is recognizable to me. He’s not directly speaking into the phone. Did he accidentally dial me?
“You crossed me. You’ve given me no choice but to take matters into my own hands,” Antonio says. A man is begging for his life, crying and hysterical. A gunshot rings out through the phone.
I shriek and hang up.
“What’s wrong?” Dmitri asks.
My hands tremble, and my stomach is spiraling. “Pull over. I’m going to be sick.”
We’re climbing the mountain, and there’s not much space to pull over. But he stops the engine, and I whip open the door, jump out, and vomit on the side of the road.
He puts the engine in park and steps out, coming around to check on me.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Are you okay?” he asks.