I nodded. “I need to learn where Ruby is.”
“I’m not done,” he said. “This place you’re going, while you’re there, you will maintain constant communication. I’m fucking pissed—don’t think I’m not—but that doesn’t get you off the hook.” His eyes narrowed. “I want you back. Sending you away isn’t some kind of fucking test. You will succeed and once you do, I expect you to get your ass back here. And while you’re gone, if you learn anything and a way to bring them down, tell one of us.” He again tilted his chin toward the door. “I don’t trust her. I’m not sure I ever will just knowing who she’s been associated with. That doesn’t mean I don’t trust you.”
“What would you do if you learned you had a daughter?” I asked.
“I kept it wrapped.”
“I was eighteen. Affording food was more of a priority than condoms.”
“I don’t know what I’d do,” Sparrow said with a small inflection of empathy. “I’d want to know if it were true.” He shook his head. “I remember overhearing conversations between my father and his men. It was probably Rudy. They fucked every female in sight. You know the stories.”
I did.
“They didn’t care who they fucked, but they did care that there were no kids.” He scoffed. “No kids equaled no proof. They had a doctor—hell, I hope he was a doctor—who routinely provided abortions for their mistresses as well as the girls in the stables.” He exhaled. “I don’t know what made me think of that.”
“The thing is, Sparrow, Madeline wasn’t a mistress or caught in your father’s or McFadden’s trafficking. She was...she is,” I corrected, “my wife. And if I had known back then I wouldn’t have suggested termination. Even with no fucking money and living in a mission, I would have wanted the kid because it was part of Madeline.”
His head shook. “Figure this out and get your ass back where you belong.”
“Yes, Mr. Sparrow.”
Unexpectedly, Sparrow’s long arms came around my shoulders, pulling me into a back-slapping embrace. “I mean it. If you die out there, I’ll kick your ass.” He took a step away. “If this goes south, after giving my permission, that makes me fucking responsible. I lived through that once. I don’t want to do it again.”
“You won’t.”
“I’ll talk to Garrett, and Reid will set you up with what you need.”
“Hey,” I shouted as Sparrow started to walk away.
He stopped and turned.
“Win this war,” I said, “and the same goes for you. Stay safe. I don’t want to find my family and lose one too.”
“We’ve been to war before.”
“We have. We also have more at stake.” I was talking about Madeline, Ruby, and the women back at the penthouse.
Sparrow nodded and turned away. His footsteps echoed off the cement walls as he disappeared around a corner. For a moment I stood in the silence, wondering where Madeline and I would go. As I was about to reach for the door handle to talk to Madeline, Garrett came around the corner.
“Sir, which plane do you want ready?”
“Are you all right with this? Going with me?” I welcomed the assistance, but I didn’t want a crew that would rather be back in Chicago.
Garrett stood taller and his eyes gleamed. “You mean taking this war to them, going into the enemies’ city, taking one of their biggest assets, and showing those Russian motherfuckers that they can’t threaten us...fuck yes, sir. I’m more than all right with it. I’m ready to kick Russian ass.”
I liked the way he made it sound. “You’re going to be my second. I want two more men, ones you trust with your life. Get two cars ready and we’ll head to the airport west of the city.” Sparrow’s planes were not all in one location. The planes at the airport I requested weren’t as big and ostentatious as the one Sparrow had painted like a bird. Even with the tracker, I planned to get in without fanfare. That reminded me. “You should know that we’ll have the tracker bracelet. Once we’re ready, it’ll be like a fucking beacon telling the Ivanov bratva where we are.”
With a bit of a grin, Garrett pulled a box from the pocket of his suit coat. It looked like a jewelry box.
“What’s that?”
“A little thing Mr. Pierce thought would come in handy.” He opened the lid. Lying upon the soft velvet was the platinum bracelet Madeline had been wearing. He closed the lid. “It’s lined with a unique polymer agent that he’s familiar with, sir. It blocks transmissions. No signal will go out until Sparrows decide.”
Sparrow was wrong about Mason. He could be a level thinker, too.
I nodded. “Give us five. Oh, and…Ms. Miller...” I hesitated on her name. “...needs better-fitting clothes and she needs shoes.”
“I’m on it.”
As Garrett walked away, a renewed sense of purpose bloomed within me. Yes, this was about Madeline and Ruby, but it was also about the Sparrows. Garrett was probably correct that Ivanov saw my daughter as an asset. If he hadn’t before, after hearing Madeline’s announcement of my paternity, he did now.
Along with the sense of purpose came another feeling. I no longer questioned Ruby’s existence. Even without proof, since learning of her, I knew in my heart and soul that she was real, a part of both Madeline and me. We’d been children learning to survive, and in the process, we’d created a life.
After seventeen years, mine was suddenly incomplete without Ruby in it.
Turning the knob, I gazed inside as Madeline turned my direction. I’d known the clothes I’d brought weren’t her size, but I hadn’t anticipated how fucking cute she would look. Her dark hair was free and tousled from my removal of the hairpins. The sweatpants and sweatshirt were designed for a man, one closer to my size, not a woman half my size. To try to make them fit, Madeline had the sleeves rolled up, creating large rolls near her elbows. The elastic at her ankles kept the pants from dragging on the floor or covering her bare feet. The pile of clothing hadn’t contained any underclothes. That thought was suddenly in the forefront of my mind.
“Tell me what’s happening,” she said, reminding me that there were priorities at hand.
I inhaled and exhaled. “We’re leaving.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. Ivanov is still in Chicago, waiting for some signal. Do you know what that is?”
Her head shook. “I don’t. I really don’t.”
“The bracelet you were wearing, where did you get it?”
Her eyebrows knitted together as she contemplated her answer. “Bracelet? Do you mean the platinum one?”
I nodded.
“Andros. He gave it to me just before today’s—” She reconsidered. “—probably yesterday’s, now—tournament play. He was in Marion’s car when Marion’s driver picked me up from the hotel.”
“What? Ivanov was in Elliott’s car?”
She nodded. “Yes. I didn’t know until I got in. The windows were dark.” She shook her head. “Anyway, on the way here, he lectured me on winning the tournament, implying that without a win I wouldn’t return to Detroit. When he was done, he handed me the bracelet.”