Page 66 of Vital Signs

Years. Hunter would be long dead by then.

"I want a lawyer."

Hatfield shook his head. "Suit yourself."

The door closed.

Time stretched. The clock showed 7:45 AM. Almost three hours since I'd walked out of that Walmart thinking I'd be back in twenty minutes.

My leg bounced frantically under the table, the metal cuff biting deeper with each movement. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, each second a hammer blow.

Hunter was alone. Suffering. Thinking I'd left him like everyone else.

My hands trembled. While I sat here, Hunter was choosing death.

Because I'd promised twenty minutes and delivered hours of silence.

They had offered water hours ago. I hadn't answered. Now my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, punishment for my own stubbornness.

The third time the door opened, I didn't look up.

"Michael." The voice cut through everything, clean and precise, with that unmistakable accent.

Nikita Volkov stood in the doorway in a charcoal suit, his slicked-back hair and expensive watch catching the fluorescent light.

"Get those off him," he said to someone in the hall.

An officer unlocked the cuffs.

"Am I hallucinating?" I asked, rubbing my wrists.

"Unfortunately not." Nikita straightened his tie. "The charges are being dropped."

"How?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to." He gestured toward the door. "Let's go."

I knew what it cost when the vory intervened.

I stumbled to my feet, legs weak from sitting too long. My entire body screamed for action. Hunter. I needed to get to Hunter.

"My things..."

"In the car."

I followed him through the station. Officers looked away as we passed, avoiding looking at Nikita. Whatever strings he'd pulled, whatever favors he'd called in, they'd cost something. Everything did with Nikita.

Outside, the world was bright with morning sun reflecting off snow. I squinted, disoriented. How long had I been inside? Hours? A day?

A black Bentley idled at the curb. Nikita opened the rear door. "Get in."

The car interior was warm. My wrists throbbed where the cuffs had bitten. But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting back to Hunter as soon as possible.

Nikita slid in beside me. The driver pulled away from the curb without being told where to go.

"Annie will be relieved," Nikita said, not looking at me. "She's been worried."

The words barely registered. My skin itched with the need to move, to run, to find Hunter. "What time is it?"