Find Me Maggie (4 page)

“I don’t either, but I do know that he’d never hurt me.” At least not physically.

To say Sergei’s and my relationship had been complicated was an understatement. There’d been a lot of pain that hadn’t ended when we had. I could almost feel the envelope through the wall to my bedroom. It contained the one thread I couldn’t cut that would always tie me to Sergei.

“Miguel hasn’t used his credit cards so wherever he is, he’s using cash,” Super Agent said.

“Thanks for the info.”

I walked Super Agent to the door and he gave me another kiss that had me fanning myself as I closed it after him.

“Sleeping with a cop,” Sergei said, clicking the TV off. “You can’t be that desperate.”

Sergei and I had both honed the skill of police-spotting at an early age.

“He’s a Special Agent with the FBI.”

“A Fed? Kostya’s not going to be happy about this.”

“Kostya can kiss my ass. He made this deal. If he had more conditions then he should’ve been upfront about them. Besides, who’s going to tell him?” I glared at him, daring him to snitch.

“He’ll find out one way or another.”

“Not my problem.”

My cell phone rang. Alice. I really didn’t have time to hold her hand.

“Hi, Alice.”

“Have you found him yet?”

“No, but I’m working on it.”

“I really need you to find him, Maggie.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“No. I mean I
really
need you to find him… I’m pregnant.”

I felt around for the barstool and sat down. “
What?
”

“You’re going to be an aunt.”

The joy in her voice made me unreasonably angry. How could Miguel have done this? I wished I shared her happiness. Best-case scenario here would be Miguel in prison, worst case…well, it would be
the worst
possible case. What kind of father could he possibly be?

“Congratulations,” I muttered. “I gotta go. Bye.”

I clicked
End Call
and turned to Sergei. “We need to find my asshole brother. Now. What’s your lead?”

“It’s not so much a lead as a hunch. A few months back we were shooting the shit and he mentioned this place in Oregon. Coo or Coop something—”

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe I’m related to him sometimes.”

“You know the place?”

“Coos Bay. Our dad took us up there to camp for his yearly forced visitation when we were kids. It makes sense. Clive says Miguel hasn’t used his credit cards.”

“It’ll be a long drive.”

“Let’s make sure he’s there before we hop in the car, Thelma.”

I brought up the campground we used to go to on my computer and called them. If Miguel was dumb enough to hide at the campground then he was probably dumb enough to use his usual alias.

“Hi. I wanted to check and make sure my husband made it to your campground. He’s not answering his cell and… Uh-huh. Michael Cast. Thank you so much. It’s good to know he’s alive so I can kill him.” I hung up the phone and rolled my eyes at my stupid brother’s complete and total stupidity. “He’s there,” I told Sergei. “Looks like we’re going north.”

Chapter Five

Sergei and I flew to Eugene, Oregon, then rented a car to drive the rest of the way. We could’ve flown into a smaller airport within ten miles of Coos Bay, but besides the expense—which Sergei had offered to pay—we couldn’t give Kostya too big a clue as to where we were headed. Landing in Oregon was bad enough. We didn’t need to give him a road map with a big red arrow on it—Lookie! Here he is!

According to Super Agent, the FBI had gotten wind of Miguel’s little “investment” company shortly before he’d skipped town. Now that he was on the run they were more eager than ever to find him. We now had a three-way race. Actually a three-and-a-half-way race since I’d made a little side deal with Super Agent as backup insurance before boarding the plane with Sergei. I honestly didn’t care if the FBI beat us to Miguel as long as Kostya didn’t.

“We’re going to have to pay cash from here on out,” Sergei said as we climbed into our rental car. “And pop the batteries out of our cell phones so they can’t be tracked.”

We’d kept up only the most necessary communication. Eye contact was brief and awkward. I was having a really difficult time being around him again. Too many memories, too much to avoid talking about.

Sergei pulled out a paper map and handed it to me. “Old school.”

I unfolded the map, nearly clocking him in the jaw and causing him to crash. “Sorry.”

“No problem.”

Like I said, minimal communication.

I found where we needed to go and guided him to the freeway. The silence sat between us like an overweight third passenger. I stared out the window, fiddled with the radio, filed my nails and tried to sleep—anything to relieve the tension.

I finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Why did Kostya insist on you coming with me?”

“He has this crazy notion that I’m still in love with you. He thought it would be some kind of romantic reunion.”

I snorted. “He still reads romance novels?”

“All the time.”

“You’re not though, right?”

Now it was his turn to scoff. “What do you think?”

Honestly, I had no idea. I hoped not. This trip was uncomfortable enough without that complication. “Maybe if he wasn’t so busy matchmaking he wouldn’t have lost his money to my brother.”

“Maybe.”

“Your club seems to be doing well.”

“It is.” He tapped the steering wheel in time with the music on the radio. “You in love with that Fed?”

“Yeah.”

“You always did have shitty taste in guys.”

“You included?”

“I’m the one exception.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t very convincing. “Sure you are.”

“Why’d you keep it?”

His question caught me by the throat. “What?”

“The tattoo.”

I hitched a shoulder, trying to hide my overreaction. “I didn’t want to forget.”

And that was the God’s honest truth. I didn’t ever want to forget the catalyst that had made me finally wake the fuck up and leave Sergei. The sound of the shots. The look on my best friend Bea’s face when the bullet hit her square in the chest. The bullet that had been meant for Sergei. I would’ve been standing next to him, but I’d gone back to the car to get something, leaving Bea to take the bullet for me.

“Why did you keep your tattoo?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t have mattered if I removed it. Can’t erase memories with a laser.”

“No. You can’t.”

“Do you ever wonder…?” He shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“No. I don’t. The dreams are bad enough.”

“Yeah.”

I glanced over at him. He dreamed too?

“I was there,
myshka
,” he said quietly. “I was there.”

Turning away, I hid the tears that suddenly sprang up out of nowhere. I hated to cry. Especially about things I couldn’t change.

He reached over and clasped my hand. It had been so long since we’d touched. I’d almost forgotten how it felt. It was more than ironic that I should find comfort from the person who’d caused so much of my pain. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with unresolved feelings.

Fucking Kostya and his fucking romance novels.

We drove in silence the rest of the way. I was afraid anything I thought to say would just lead us back to the thing neither one of us wanted to talk about. So I kept conversation to turn-by-turn directions. He never let go of my hand.

After what felt like forever, but was really a little over two hours, we pulled into Coos Bay. I’d forgotten what a picturesque town it was. If I had been with anyone else for any other reason I would’ve wanted to take a walk on the boardwalk and watch the sunset. But I wasn’t here to enjoy myself. I was here to find my brother.

I directed Sergei to the Sunset Bay State Park. The sun lay low in the sky, dipping its bottom edge into the Pacific Ocean and sending out fragile pinks, oranges and yellows across the water. I wished Super Agent were here to see this. We hadn’t even taken a vacation together yet. This felt a lot like cheating on him for some reason, making me more uncomfortable than ever.

I slid my hand from Sergei’s, disguising the gesture by pointing out the campground office. “Let’s find out which cabin he’s in.”

We climbed out of the car and headed toward the entrance. When we got inside, a young woman greeted us with a chirpy hello. I hung back and let Sergei handle this. Back in the day when we’d run cons of our own, we had a deal that I would handle the men and he’d handle the ladies. It seemed that part of our past wasn’t so past tense.

Sergei leaned on the counter, amping up his megawatt smile and his accent. “Hi. I’m Sergei. My sister Maggie and I are hoping you can help us. We’re looking for our brother, Michael Cast. He wanted us to come up and hang out, but he’s not answering his cell and he didn’t tell us which cabin he was in.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “I’m not really supposed to give that kind of information out.”

Sergei leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble.”

“I’d help you if I could.”

“I know you would. We’ll just keep trying his cell.” He started to go and then turned back around, cranking up the charm to blinding. “If I leave without saying anything I know I’ll regret it later so… You’re very pretty.” He lowered his voice to where I could barely hear. “I swore I wouldn’t get involved so soon after my girlfriend cheated…” He worked up the perfect expression, a combination of sadness yet hopefulness. “But I feel like we have a connection.”

The girl nodded and leaned a little closer, her eyes wide, her lips parted. He had her eating out of his hand now. This is why we’d been so successful.

“Would you join me for a walk later…after you get off work?” Sergei said. “Or we could just sit and talk right there on the porch.” He jabbed a finger over his shoulder. “If we ever get a hold of our brother,” he added for emphasis. Man he was good.

The girl bit her lip. I held my breath.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…” She looked through her records. “He’s in cabin 23.”

“What time do you get off work?”

“Seven.”

“I’ll see you at six fifty-five.” He traced a finger along her jaw line, making her shudder. “Beautiful.”

We started to leave, but the girl brought our attention back to her. “My name’s Rebecca.”

“Rebecca…” Sergei said her name like a blessing, giving her one last smoldering look before we left.

We climbed back into the car. I didn’t feel good about the way we’d tricked that girl, getting her hopes up. That wasn’t the person I was anymore…or at least the person I was trying to be.

Sergei turned to me, his smile triumphant. “Just like old times.”

“Yeah. Just like that.”

He started the car and put it in drive. “I miss having you as my partner.”

I didn’t comment. There might have been a few things I missed about Sergei, but tricking innocent people wasn’t one of them.

We wove our way through the campground, looking for Miguel’s cabin. Sergei drove past it and then turned around, parking a couple of cabins away. There were too many cars around cabin 23. I had a real bad feeling about this.

We climbed out of the car and slipped between two other cabins, heading around the back. The shotgun-style cabins were long and narrow with a living room that led to a bedroom that led to the kitchen at the back. Each had a front and back door with mere feet separating one cabin from the other.

It freaked me out more than a little how Sergei and I had fallen into our old partnership roles without communicating. Careful not to make any sound, we ducked under the windowed backdoors of the other cabins. When we got to Miguel’s cabin, Sergei dipped below the window in the door and came up on the other side. We slowly and carefully crouched low and peered up into the window.

For fuck’s sake! When was I going to catch a break?

The bulky outline of Kostya’s number-one goon, Ivan, filled most of the window. I could just make out Miguel’s profile as he sat tied to a chair, his chin on his chest. There was another guy, but I couldn’t tell who it was. Probably another of Kostya’s men. I closed my eyes and slid down the door. We were too late.

Sergei leaned against my shoulder and whispered, “The deal was for whoever brought Miguel back to Kostya, not for who got to him first.”

That was true. “We can steal him back.”

“Yup.”

We crouch-walked back the way we’d come and climbed into the car.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked.

“We’ll wait here and see where they take him. And look for an opportunity to snatch him back.”

That didn’t seem like much of a plan. In fact it was a completely chicken-shit plan and totally unlike Sergei. Either he was losing his touch or there was something else going on here, like maybe he’d tipped off Kostya. Or else he was running his own end game that neither Kostya nor I knew about. If I had to lay down money I’d put it on the latter. Sergei, like Miguel, always worked his own angle and had at least two contingency plans in reserve.