Stitching the Talisman (Kali James Book 3) by L.A. McBride

Author:L.A. McBride [McBride, L.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781957445052
Publisher: One Tree Press
Published: 2022-11-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

A dark gray sedan was waiting for us. I assumed the driver was one Volkov had arranged because he didn’t hesitate as he strode to the car. The driver opened the trunk and waited until all our luggage was piled inside, then opened the door for Riley and me. With Craig in the back with us, it was a tight squeeze.

The driver seemed to know where he was going without being given directions. We stopped in front of a five-story luxury apartment building with an old-world feel and a uniformed doorman. Volkov didn’t move to get our luggage, apparently used to having lackeys to carry around his things.

I suspected this was not an Airbnb. “Where are we?”

Volkov scanned the street. “My family keeps an apartment in Bucharest.”

Riley raised an eyebrow but followed his gaze. “What are you looking for?”

“One at two o’clock,” he said.

“Another at eight,” Craig said.

They hurried us inside. Although the doorman greeted Volkov, he couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at Riley’s bright pink hair. She lifted her chin and stared right back until he got the hint and looked away. “I’ll have your luggage sent up, sir.”

Volkov gave a curt nod. “Thank you.” He bypassed the elevator for the stairs.

After hours on the plane, my legs protested the idea of climbing stairs. “Tell me you are on the second floor.”

“Fifth.” Volkov took the stairs two at a time, disappearing around the next bend.

“Is he claustrophobic or something?” I asked Craig, who was behind me, bringing up the rear.

“Elevators can be jammed.”

“Okay.”

He glanced behind him. “Let’s save the questions for upstairs.”

Several flights later, we followed Volkov into an apartment so large it had to take up most of the top floor of the building. Unlike the clean modern lines Volkov seemed to prefer in his own home, this place looked like every bad movie version of a Russian oligarch’s residence. There was so much bling, all I could do was blink against the gaudiness of it all. I expected Riley to give Volkov a hard time about the silver spoon he seemed to have been born with, but she was subdued as she studied the surroundings.

Volkov and Craig went through the apartment like they’d done it a million times, checking rooms and peering out windows in perfect synchronization. Riley and I checked out the house while they finished their security check. When the doorman knocked with our luggage, Volkov waited for Craig to position himself against the wall next to the door before he opened it. This was over-the-top even for them.

After the doorman left, I asked the obvious question. “What is going on?”

“As I said Ms. James, the Compound is not a typical prison. The only way in is with an escort,” Volkov said.

“And?”

“And it’s not a friendly kind of escort.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but it if it was putting Craig and Volkov on high alert, it couldn’t be good. I glanced at Riley. “Are we safe here?”

“We are,” Craig reassured me. He crossed to the window and peered at the street below.

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