A spark of temper narrowed her eyes. That macho bullshit never failed to raise her hackles, and he damn well knew it. “I’m not your woman anymore.”
“No, I’m just some asshole who patches you up when you got nowhere else to go. Message received, loud and clear.” The light turned green, he stomped on the gas, and the truck shot through the intersection.
“Damn it, that’s not what I—” The rest of Essie’s reply was cut off by the blare of an emergency vehicle’s siren. Twisting in her seat, she saw the flashing red lights of an approaching fire engine. As Jackson pulled over to let it pass, Essie caught a whiff of smoke in the air. A mile later, they turned in to her apartment complex, and a thick gray plume came into view.
Dread knotted Essie’s stomach. She had a bad feeling about this.
Sure enough, a half dozen police and fire vehicles blocked the street leading to her building. Jackson swung into the first available spot, and they walked the short distance to the yellow caution tape surrounding what was left of her apartment. A dozen or so people milled about, some talking on their phones, others filming the scene, while one guy begged a cop to let him back into the building so he could retrieve his laptop.
Jackson stared up at the smoke pouring through the living room window, and the look on his face said he either wanted to punch a wall or beat the crap out of somebody. Possibly both. The muscles along his jaw flexed. “I take it that’s your apartment.”
Chest tight, Essie forced out a breath. “Yeah.”
“Your boy’s handiwork?”
“More likely than not.”
The grooves between his eyebrows deepened. “Why did he wait this long? I mean, he could have done this anytime last night.”
She shrugged. “He probably staked out the apartment in the hopes of finishing what he started. When I didn’t come home, he decided to leave a message.”
Jackson glanced down at her. “And what message is that?”
“Back off.” Anger flattened her lips as she watched the firemen work. She hoped the blaze hadn’t spread beyond her apartment. By design, she didn’t know her neighbors well, but they seemed like decent people and it would suck for them to get hurt or lose their homes because her former mentor had gone full psycho. “He knows I’m going to stop him.”
“Can you?”
It was an honest question, which was why it didn’t offend her. “Yes, assuming the target’s still alive, but it won’t be easy.” She peered up at Jackson, taking in the strong lines of his profile and the outline of his muscular chest beneath the thin cotton T-shirt. “He’s one of the best in the business. Taught me everything I know.”
“Yeah, but you’re not alone. I’ll help.”
Always the protector. She’d expected this reaction from him. “I appreciate the offer, but this is my mess. I’m not dragging you into it.”
“I’ve been in this ever since you showed up bloody on my door. Navarre will help too.”
She let out a snort. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Sure it is. He’s not the kind of person who lets emotions get in the way of doing what’s right. Neither are you. Or am I wrong about that?”
He was right. It irritated the hell out of her. Keeping Petrov alive was going to be a massive undertaking. If she wasn’t already dead. Aside from torching her apartment, who knew what Vaughn had been up to while she’d been out of commission?
One thing was for certain: she couldn’t afford to waste another minute. As it was, they might already be too late. “We need to lock down the target as soon as possible.”
Jackson nodded in agreement. “You got an address for this woman? Any pictures?”
“I’ve got all that and more.” The dossier Vaughn had provided was extensive: home and work address, family history, close friends, favorite restaurants, and a weekly routine with all known deviations. It even listed where she shopped for groceries and the gas station she used to top off the tank. Every last bit of information needed to plot a little light murder.
Taking out her phone, she swiped at the screen to pull up her gallery, and then angled the screen so Jackson could see the picture of Petrov. “That’s her.”
Every muscle in his body went still. “You’re shitting me, right?”
His reaction caught her off guard and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “I never kid about stuff like this. Why, do you know her?”
He nodded, his eyes locked on the photo. “That’s an old picture. Her hair’s different and her face is a little thinner now, but…yeah, I know her. Her name ain’t Petrov, at least not anymore. It’s Flint, Nina Flint. My boss’s wife.”
Chapter 9
Still in a mildstate of shock, Jackson sat beside Essie in the Six Points Security conference room while she laid it all out for Nina Flint and her husband, Austin: the contract on Nina’s life, the Russian assassins who’d come to kill her, Essie’s involvement with Vaughn, and Vaughn’s intention to carry out the contract. All things considered, Nina took it pretty well, though her face was a few shades paler than it had been before Essie started talking.
