Page 77 of Hunt Me, Daddy

“Tonight is different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

Something moved on her end of the line. A chair, maybe. Then footsteps. She was not obeying. She was checking. Good. Suspicious girl. Difficult girl. My girl.

I heard the faint click of a lock. Then another.

Good.

My voice lowered before I could stop it. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me like I did it for you.”

I almost smiled.

Twenty-four hours.

The smile died.

“The conference was not a coincidence,” I said.

She was silent on the other line.

“I know,” she said.

“You suspected.”

“Don’t split hairs with me at three in the morning. I suspected enough.”

“I engineered the introduction through Mara.”

“I figured that part out.”

I closed my eyes briefly. I should have known she had.

“What part haven’t I figured out?” she asked.

“The part where Mikhail Orlov’s people have your name and address.”

She didn’t gasp out loud or curse. There wasn’t even the smallest intake of breath most people gave when danger stopped being theoretical and became a street, a building, a door.

Kit went silent.

“How long do I have?” she asked.

“Twenty-four hours before they move on you physically. Possibly less.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I have been inside the same investigation longer than you have.”

“That’s not an answer.”