Page 90 of Ballistic

Two days passed in that small, cramped apartment. Two days without Nicoleta. Two days of not bothering to eat. Or sleep. Two days of staring into the blackness of the room, wondering what the fuck I was going to do with my life.

I opened the cabinet, where the bottle of fentanyl sat on the shelf.

The last time I’d taken it, my buddy Rhys had found me passed out on the bathroom floor and driven me to the hospital. Landed my ass in detox, followed up by some pretty miserable nights after that. Nights I’d sworn I’d never put myself through again.

No matter what.

I closed the cabinet and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Could hardly look at my own reflection—like staring back at someone else for too long. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, which’d become bloodshot from lack of sleep. I looked like a goddamned zombie.

The meeting with Tesarik would take place in three days, and if I didn’t get my shit together soon, I’d miss my opportunity to end that bastard before he got his hands on Nicoleta again.

Nicoleta.

Her name was a sledgehammer against a thin wall of porcelain. Couldn’t even think about her without wanting to break something.

Couldn’t stop thinking about her, either, though. That was the shit part of it all. Where was she? What was she doing? Who was she with?

I didn’t want to begin imagining some unworthy cocksucker putting his hands on her after me. Some limp-dick who’d take her as nothing more than a pretty face, never knowing what she’d been through, because she’d never tell them.

Except, she wasn’t the type to jump in the sack with someone else. Only one she might consider going back to was Dmitry.

The thought struck me like a baseball bat upside the head. In fact, why wouldn’t she go back to Dmitry? He could protect her against Tesarik, and even if a small part of her feared him, she trusted him, too.

I darted into the still-trashed bedroom and searched for my wallet. Beneath the overturned table, I found it lying in the broken glass, and I lifted it up from the floor, careful not to get the small flecks on my fingers. I thumbed through the cash for the white card with the embossed phone number stuffed inside.

Anxiety wound tight in my stomach as I nabbed my phone and dialed the number. I just wanted to know she was safe, wherever she was.

“Hello, Mister Wolfe.” The voice on the other end held some familiarity from our first meeting, thick with that Slavic accent.

“Where is she?”

“Perhaps we should plan to meet. I’d like to discuss a few things with you.”

“Yes. We should.”

“I’d like you to come to my office. It’s public, so you’ve nothing to be concerned about. I’ll text you the address.”

Eyes screwed shut, I breathed hard through my nose to calm the knots still twisting in my gut. “Just tell me one thing. Is she okay?”

“No. I don’t think she is. Keep an eye out for my text.”

I don’t think she is? What the fuck did that even mean?

The phone clicked, and my heart slammed against my ribs in a bid to break through the bone, as I waited for his text. My stomach coiled and churned, until the address popped up, and, hands trembling, I scrambled to plug it into the map. I’d throttle the little bastard’s neck, if he’d so much as laid a single finger on her.

With the directions leading the way, I hopped in the ‘Cuda and drove, not giving one fuck about the fact that meeting up with a known criminal was probably the dumbest shit I’d ever done. Desperation took the wheel as I drove through the streets, into the downtown district, until I reached an enormous building on the corner of Mack and John R.

I glanced down at the directions, and double-checked against the text to make sure I’d pasted them correctly.

What the fuck?

I lifted my eyes to the sign posted out in front.

Crestwood Psychiatric Center.

Idling at the curb, I noted all of the cars parked in the lot, and the well-kempt grounds that surrounded the tall brick building. If it were some kind of trap, surely he wouldn’t have chosen that place in broad daylight, over some abandoned shithole in the middle of nowhere.

Curiosity getting the best of me, I turned the ‘Cuda into the lot and made my way into the building.