The Code To A Don's Heart

n i n e

I waited for the painkillers to kick in before I made myself stand. The shirt Kat had given me fell to my thighs but I could still see my floral panties. I limped out of the bathroom and down the hall, over the body of the hitman Kat shot. I entered her room and ignored her lifeless body on the ground. It was surrounded by a wide pool of blood that I refused to disturb.

I went to her closet and found a log skirt. I pulled it on from my head. My back still hurt and my gut wasn't any better. I also found some sunglasses that were big and wide and slipped them on my face. I limped back to the guest room and grabbed all my stuff, leaving them out on the porch. I made my way back inside to the kitchen. I grabbed the fuel tanks under the sink and poured the liquid around the house. I picked up some matchsticks as well. Most of the fuel went on the bodies. I hoped the fire I would set would destroy them too. At the door, I slipped into my shoes before lighting a match.

"Thank you Kat. Sorry I got you killed," I whispered then threw the stick into the fuel that quickly caught.

I stumbled away from the house, my bag in hand. My right leg was being annoyingly useless and I had to pick up a stick from the ground to help me walk. I was a limping— no hobbling— woman in a loose tee, long skirt and sunglasses. Jesus my life had taken a turn. At least now, I could put some blame on Viktor. He was why I was like this and I deserved to know why I was someone's punching bag and shooting target for the evening.

No one stopped me as I walked down the street even though the burning house had piqued peoples attention. I got a cab and asked him to drive me to the cheapest hotel in the area. It was an old building that seemed like a breeze could blow it down. I checked in, promising the kind lady at the front that I had a friend who'd be paying for me. She sympathized because I looked like a disabled and blind basket case. She got my room number and I told her to check in with me tomorrow evening when her shift begun.

Making it up the stairs was hard. The only available room tonight was on the third floor. It took a while to get there and the desk clerk didn't offer any help. The room was the last one down the hall and on opening the brown door, I was glad there were no floral patterns anywhere when I flicked on the light. There was a bed and a large black leather armchair in the corner by the window. The nightstand by the bed had a lamp and there was a door that led to the bathroom.

I placed my bag and room keys on the bed. It was dressed in a handmade quilt and two lumpy pillows. There was an old air conditioner under the window and it had been turned on so the room was warm. I hadn't realised how cold I'd been outside. Sweat run down my back and I settled myself at the headboard to catch my breath. I pulled my phone from my bag.

I dialed a number I never thought I would willingly.

"Privet," someone greeted on the other side.

"Hello. Am I talking to Markov?" I asked, trying to keep the breathlessness out of my voice.

"Kto eto?" Markov Makarovich demanded angrily.

"I don't speak Russian," You idiot.

"Who is this?" Markov asked.

"A friend," I answered. "I'm looking for Viktor. I can't seem to reach him on his number."

"Viktor is handling some business," Markov said and there was some shuffling and murmuring on the other side of the phone. "Would you like to leave a message?"

"They won't be able to track my phone," I stated, knowing what the Underboss might have been thinking. The line went quiet.

"You are the hacker Viktor is looking for, aren't you, malen'kaya devochka?"