Page 60 of Forbidden Boss

I call our Bratva IT. Not Levcon’s. Mine. He’s faster, and he doesn’t worry about paperwork.

“If any unknown device pings the Levcon authorization code from a Catskills IP, you alert me. Don’t block it. I want to watch him if he tries to move money.”

“Understood,” he says.

We take the bridge and follow I-87. Kingston slides past. We cut west. The road tightens. Trees close in on all sides. It’s dark now, and I can feel the temperature dropping even through the glass. It does nothing to ease my worries.

Halloran calls back.

“Airbags were deployed. Driver not ambulatory. The female fled on foot. Troopers are en route. Volunteer firefighters are rolling. Stay off their radar.”

“Copy,” I say, and hang up.

“What’s our ETA?” I ask the driver.

“Seven minutes.”

“Make it five.”

We hit a bend and see strobes through the trees. The SUV sits nose-first in a ditch, the grille shoved into a tree. Smoke billows from the hood. The passenger door hangs open, and the driver’s side is caved in. One trooper waves cars past. A chief barks at a kid trying to film the crash. We stop nose-to-nose with a county car. I’m out before we’re fully stopped.

A trooper steps in to block me, hand up.

“Back it up. The scene’s closed.”

Yuri folds a thick card into the trooper’s hand and keeps walking.

“We were never here,” he says without looking at him.

I circle to the driver’s side. The man behind the wheel is dead. His neck is twisted at an unnatural angle, and his eyes are still open. I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t matter. Marcus clearly had a network I knew nothing about.

“Marcus?” I yell without looking.

“He’s not here,” Yuri answers. He’s already on the shoulder, scanning. “It looks like he ran after her.”

Of course he did. I cross to the open passenger door. The airbag is blown and streaked with blood. Not a lot, but still fresh. I crouch and study the shattered glass. There’s a drag in the scatter where someone slid out. Small prints lead to the guardrail, then drop into the ditch, tight and small. She ran hard.

“Here,” Yuri says. He holds up a white band, cut short and nicked gray. A zip-tie. “Five million says this is hers.”

I take it. The edge is rough. She did it without a blade. I assess the scene again, and it occurs to me that she might have caused this. Her fight-or-flight kicked in and she fought hard. Hopefully she’s still fighting, still running.

“Build a grid,” I say. “Now.”

Our second SUV rolls in behind us. Then a third and a fourth. Doors pop. Our medic hauls bags to the tailgate. A K9 handler clips leads. My men fan out with rifles low, vests under jackets. Icut to the county sergeant and meet his eyes. He’s not happy, but he’s also not stupid enough to argue with me.

“No one touches that line except my people and the dogs I authorize,” I say. “Hold your guys on pavement. You’ll get what you need for your report.”

He looks at my face. He looks at my men. He looks at the wad of hundreds now sitting in his palm. He nods once.

“Ground’s slick and rocks are worse,” he says. “If your guys get turned around, I’m not sending mine in after them.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Back at the SUV, Pavel passes out radios. We go to the hood for a map. I draw with a dry-erase marker and my finger.

“We slice it four ways off the shoulder. Creek. Ridge. North. South. Two-man teams. Radios open. Flag blood, fabric, fresh breaks. Police rules, no contamination. We’re not adding our DNA to this murder board. If you see Marcus, you don’t chase. You call me and hold your position.”

No one argues. They move. They’ve been training for something like this for years.