Sin pulled the face mask and crushed it back inside her purse as she wound her way through the trees behind the house.
Blue lights were fast approaching the house, but the people wandering back here would serve as camouflage if she didn't stand out. Most of them would never be able to identify her given all the crying and eye-rubbing.
Being a former cop was an advantage here. She knew how they were trained, what pattern they would use to clear the house, and how quickly they would pull out their gas masks and get to work. Only one look at all the partiers drooling tears and snot down their faces and it would become clear that gas canisters had been deployed.
Sin had lost track of Nick as they left the room. Churkin had taken advantage of the melee—the gunshots an added impulse to not just cry out but to trample their friends.
For some reason that bitch still wasn't dead.
She was even on her feet.
And she'd eluded Sin.
Sin only hoped Nick had a bead on her. He'd put Churkin down if he had the opportunity.
She, on the other hand, was weaving through the crying people, reaching out as though she couldn't see, marking a crooked path with a very clear destination. As soon as she reached the tree cover, she quit pretending and beelined for the high wall.
The high wall was topped with embedded glass shards, ensuring that anyone who made it to the top sliced themselves to ribbons.
Picking her way through the shards, Sin balanced on her sturdy heels for about ten feet, heading from the tree she climbed on the yard side of the fence to the tree on the outside. The trees were carefully spaced and pruned so that an intruder could not climb from one to the other; the wall with its irregular glass spikes separated them. But the odd steps did their trick and she came abreast of the second tree and reached out just as she heard voices behind her.
The police had made their way into the back yard.
That likely meant that some had masks on and were already inside the house. They would have found two Kurev sons dead on the floor.
She couldn't find it in herself to be upset about it.
What she was upset about was that Churkin, despite being shot by Kaspar, was still up and around. And that Kelly Gilligan had been nowhere near the party.
Then again, he wasn't the party type.
Her inquisition with Roman had not gone as hoped either. He had either taken the secret of Lee's location to his grave or he really hadn't known. She now suspected the latter.
Likely Kaspar had known, but that gate was closed now too.
She swung down from the tree on the other side of the wall before any of the officers could see her. They would be finding the gas canisters and putting the pieces together about . . .
Now. The yells and radios squawking said the canisters had been found. But she and Nick wouldn't leave the masks behind. For a moment, she double-checked her steps, taking stock. There would be nothing to pull minute traces of DNA that could tie the job back to them. The gun was Churkin's and likely untraceable. Nick had taken it. Churkin had been shot by Kaspar's gun, still in his hand, and his hand would test positive for residue. If anyone located her, Churkin's own hand would test positive, too. The Chicago PD would find the gas canisters were from their own store.
She should be clear.
Sin climbed into the car she’d stashed back here and waited for word from Nick.
For two minutes she just sat. It wasn't really long enough for him to get to his car and contact her. But she couldn't stay there any longer. Not without getting found out.
So she pulled away just as her own phone buzzed quietly by her leg. The number said it was Nick, but her voice never did. Always no names, dates, addresses, just in case someone was listening in. "Yes?"
"You out okay?"
"Yes. You?"
"Clean." He answered calmly. "Where to?"
Though she was fresh off a fight, and sporting new bruises she wished she didn't have, Sin wasn't wearing a bullet wound like Churkin, or a death stare like the Kurevs. Still, if they didn't get to Churkin fast, she would come back like the damn plague. Lord knows they thought they'd killed her once before.
Sin sighed. "I think we have to go to the house."
"Really?" Nick's disbelief was clear.
Sin understood. Churkin wouldn’t go where expected, but she was bleeding. Badly. She'd need supplies.
Sin also was banking on Churkin assuming that Sin and Nick would never think she’d go back home. Thus the most obvious place was the least obvious. It was a mind game of the worst order. "I think so. . ."
Letting the words hang in the air for a moment, Sin allowed Nick to think. But when he responded all he said was, "Meet you there."
Which meant either he agreed or he couldn't come up with anything better. She had no clue which. But if they were going to take Churkin out it would likely take both of them to be sure the job was finished. The bitch just kept getting away.
Without the Kurevs as anchor, there was no telling what kind of personal vendetta Churkin would run. And Sin's mind drifted to the possibility the Kurev legacy might be over. None of the sons had any known heirs. She had no idea if anyone was ready for the eventuality of all three of them passing. But it had happened.
She thought about the house, the land, the money . . . while Nick and Sin were half siblings of the Kurevs, neither was legitimate. Unless Nick came forward as a blood heir, he couldn't inherit. Sin couldn't be found, so she wouldn't. But Churkin was a legitimate cousin.
Holy shit. Churkin might be running the Kurev Family now. Getting Sin and Lee and then Nick would be her full time focus. Sin hoped Nick understood.
There was a window of maybe an hour to find her or she’d be in the wind again. And the last time she'd been in the wind, she'd turned up standing over Sin's bed in the middle of the night.
Just then her phone buzzed again.
Sin frowned for a moment before realizing it was Owen. "Yes?"
"Are you okay?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I need you. I think the Mechanic has a tracer on Mrs. Holder. I think he probably followed her to Annika and the family."
Oh shit.
Churkin.
Or Annika and the Holders?
Owen was the present. Sin and Nick were the future.
Owen was to go after the Mechanic and make sure that Annika and the Holders were okay.
In his brain, a litany of swear words buzzed. Words he didn't even realize he knew.
Sin's argument was that if they didn't take out Churkin now, she would come back later. Owen didn't give any fucks about later. Not if Annika wasn't there. What if the Mechanic got her? He'd seen the man's handiwork.
Churkin could wait.
Sin disagreed.
Churkin would be in the wind within the hour.
That, at least, was true. What they disagreed about was the importance of keeping her out of the wind.
Trying to pull back, Owen thought about looking at the problem like a cop. Where were his best odds going to be?
He smacked his hand against the steering wheel, earning him a sideways glance from Duffy, but nothing more as he steered the car off the nearest exit and pulled into a gas station. Winding amid the semis fueling up, Owen found a spot out of the way and simply pushed the gear into park.
Neither man spoke, but in unison they got out of the car and began checking common spots. Owen didn't find anything, but Duffy did. Silently, he held up the small black box and nodded at Owen. As the officer casually attached the device to the underside of a truck whose driver wasn't paying attention, Owen kept checking.
The simple tandem work was as soothing as anything could be right now. Owen was vibrating with nervous energy, but seeing that Duffy understood the problem and responded the same way was helpful.
They silently climbed back into the car and Owen started the engine, figuring they had done their best. If there was a second tracker on the car—which was the smart move—they hadn't found it. Ultimately, Owen counted the possibility of a second device as relatively low, since the Mechanic had already tracked Mrs. Holder and Annika. Which led Owen right back to his earlier train of thought.
When he looked at things rationally, the problem was that no one was looking at things rationally.
Owen wanted to save Annika—logic be damned. Sin wanted to go after Churkin, because she wanted to save Lee. Nick was after Sin to find Lee and get himself out of the pyramid he'd spent his whole life building.
It was basically a shitstorm of emotions with no one really thinking straight.
He would never change Sin's mind. Just like she would never change his.
Though he'd come here just to help, he was in it up to his neck now. No, he was over his head.
And he was on his own.
His eyeballs hurt. The kind of pale burn that came with the pain of severe loss.
Two deep, tight breaths later, Owen took stock.
The only good news was he wasn't on his own.
Turning to the man beside him, he asked, "Are you in?"
"Damn straight." Just a small lift of the chin defined his dedication. "I'm going to take this asshole down. I saw what he did to Hellico."
Shit.
"I have men on Hellico." No, that was wrong. "Nick has men on Hellico."
For a moment, Owen bathed in the irony. He didn't trust the FBI. Not at all. Not even that young upstart, Pillow. He was entrusting a human life to dirty cops in the mafia's back pocket. He almost snorted because he was making distinctions based on which mafia.
How had he gotten so twisted around?
Owen didn't answer himself. Instead he took a sharp turn at a speed that would get him there as fast as he could arrive without getting pulled over. In this town, these days, he wasn't sure he wouldn't be recognized as Nick’s ally and take a bullet right on the side of the road.
That was a sobering thought.
So though his foot itched as it stayed gentle on the gas, he didn't press it harder.
He had himself, he had Duffy . . . And he had Annika.
He'd been undervaluing her for years, apparently. She knew how to shoot. She was good at it, too. And Owen was willing to bet in the end she'd have fewer qualms about killing someone than he did. If she laid out the Mechanic, she'd probably throw herself a party. He almost smiled.
Then he didn't.
He'd called her; he'd warned her. She'd checked back in a moment later and said she'd found it.
Owen had sworn out loud.
Annika had reasoned. "Owen, if the tracker is on this car . . ." She didn't have to finish the sentence for him, but she did anyway, "He was at the other motel. Saw that we switched cars and put a tracker on this car, too."
He consoled himself that she still hadn't seen the guy. The Mechanic might be right there and may have watched her find the tracker on the car.
"Dunham."
The word came from the other side of the car, breaking into his worried thoughts. It was a welcome relief, as Owen had asked the man how they might get Annika and the Holder family out of the room without the Mechanic knowing.
While Owen was confident that Annika's phone wasn't bugged, he was not as confident that Gilligan didn't have some other way to listen in on the conversation. So even if there was a plan, getting it to her was a problem.
He turned to Duffy, "Give me something good."
"Sorry man." He shrugged, the movement truncated by the fresh stitches in his shoulder, reminding Owen that even though he had Duffy, Duffy wasn't a hundred percent. "I got more bad. If the Mechanic got a tracker on Mrs. Dunham and the family, he probably also got one on your friend and Nick."
Duffy didn't seem to know the relationship between Sin and Nick. Owen noted that but opted for the bigger picture. "Shit."
"Yeah. I'm calling Nick." He already had his phone out, but seemed to hesitate until Owen gave him a nod.
Another interesting fact. But Owen shuffled it away as he took the last turn toward the motel. Duffy was on the phone but reached out to Owen's arm, stopping him.
For a moment, his nerves flashed in anger. Then he stopped himself and decided to be grateful for the fact that the other man knew what he was doing. They would not drive blindly into an ambush.
They were three blocks away when Owen stopped the car. Though Duffy had been checking his weapon and patting himself down, familiarizing himself with his options and the limitations of his arm, Owen had been driving. He grabbed the spare he'd stuffed under the seat, an unregistered gun from Nick. And while he walked, he tried to casually load and rack this second gun. If he was caught with it, he would be brought up on felony charges at the least.
Owen didn't care.
The walk in was slow. There was no telling where the Mechanic was camped out. He might not even be here. He might be in a tree—something the FBI figured out Sin and Lee had done, using parabolic listening devices the agents later found at one of their scenes. He might be sitting in a car, listening to the radio, right outside the room. He could be anywhere.
It took forever for the two men to make it to the side of the motel. Street lights were random, providing strange puddles of light and swirls of dark beyond them. To the side, several men sat on the hood of an old car, drinking something and down the street a woman walked alone, her gait solid and far more confident than the environment should have allowed.
There was no sign of the Mechanic as they reached the room.
They stood in front of the door the Holder family had entered with Sin and Duffy. As he checked the surroundings he noticed dents in the metal but they didn't look fresh. There was no evidence of a break-in.
The knob turned easily in his grip, his heart near to bursting from his chest as he trusted his exposed back to Duffy's protection. As the door swung wide, he noticed two things simultaneously.
The room was empty.
There was disturbing three-foot-wide hole busted in the back wall.