Chapter 34 Maxim
MAXIM
“Fuck. Run,” I scream at Grace. That motherfucking, two-timing snake.
“Sergei will meet you at the gate to your west about one hundred feet from your location,” Brooks says into my earpiece.
I pull my handgun from its holster and fire at Dmitri and his guards. Fucking double-crossing scum. What the hell kind of shit is he playing at?
Elena pulls a small handgun from under her dress and starts firing, too.
They’re gaining on us. All I can hear is Grace screaming as the bullets fly past her. When Grace stumbles and twists her ankle, I grab her as she starts to fall and hold her with one arm.
“Keep going, Wildcat,” I scream at her.
Then I see Sergei through the clearing, waiting with a town car, thank fuck—a limousine would never get us out of here in time. The door is open, and I throw Grace into it with Elena.
I dive in last and slam the door shut.
Sergei puts his foot to the floor and gets us out of there as bullets hit the side of the car.
“What the fuck just happened?” I say through labored breaths.
“Dmitri fucking double-crossed us,” Elena says.
“No shit,” Grace says angrily. “I could have told you he would, but no one listens to me.”
“He’s pinning this on you, Max.” Elena looks at me, worried.
“I know. We made it too easy for him.” I punch the seat in front of me.
“The entire Bratva is going to be after you,” Elena says as she leans back against the leather seats, her chest heaving.
I click my seatbelt in and try to calm down.
“You need to kill him,” Grace says
“He has protection now,” Elena adds.
“I want that man dead! We were supposed to be safe if we helped him. My family was supposed to be safe.” Grace bursts into tears.
I pull her against my chest, trying to soothe her. Tonight has been too much for her.
“The jet is on standby. We are leaving now. Rendezvous in thirty minutes,” Brooks says into my earpiece.
We’ll be in the dark now until we make it to that plane.
“Sergei, is the car fully stocked?”
“Of course, like you asked.”
I pull open the drawer underneath the seat, which houses an array
of guns.
“Holy shit!” Grace gasps.
“Yes.” Elena smiles, picking up my SIG handgun and cocking it.
I hand my Beretta to Grace, who looks horrified.
She shakes her head. “I can’t shoot this.” She points to the gun, not
touching it.
“We trained at my range, remember? You were a good shot with it.”
“And then we fucked. That’s what I remember about the day.”
Elena and Sergei try to stifle their laughter, but Grace is still freaking out.
“You’ve got this, Grace. I need you to be armed,” I say, trying not to
freak her out, but a shit storm is about to come down on us, and I need her to be ready.
“Okay,” she says hesitantly, taking the gun from me.
I remind her to take the safety off. At the sound of the click she transforms, and I see her get into kick-ass mode.
I pull out my M24 and have my trusty Glock sitting in its holster. I take off my jacket so it doesn’t get in the way.
Sergei looks into his rearview mirror. “We have company.”
“Grace, move into the middle. Take your heels off in case we have to run.”
She crawls over me.
I reach over and rip her evening dress.
“Oh my god, what did you do? That was couture,” she squeals.
“That means shit when you have to run.”
I watch as Elena does the same, kicking off her heels.
“You seriously think we’re going to have to run?” Grace says.
“Be prepared,” I tell her.
“Incoming!” Sergei shouts as we hear the rumble of something
behind us.
I turn and look through the back windscreen and see three G-wagons barreling toward us.
“Shit.” I aim my sniper rifle at them.
“Elena, shoot out the window for me. I need a clear shot.”
She nods and does just that.
Grace screams beside her as we’re showered with glass.
I get to my knees, resting my gun on the headrests, and take my time lining up the shot.
A boom fills the night air, and one of the cars wobbles as it deals with having a front tire blown out.
I watch as the windows come down, and hands go out, holding guns.
I turn around and drop over the top of Grace as the bullets hit the back of the car.
Grace is screaming.
And Elena returns fire.
I sit up and steady myself as best I can, lining up the face of the driver in my scope and pulling the trigger. His head slumps to the side, his hands turning the wheel, and the car takes a sharp turn and rolls a couple of times.
“Yes!” Elena screams, giving me a high five as we congratulate each other.
“Two more coming up,” Sergei says.
I line them up again and take a shot, putting a hole in the first car’s engine, then blow another tire out. The second car speeds closer to us, but Elena returns fire and takes out a couple of guards.
“ETA to the airport is twenty minutes,” Sergei says as he weaves in and out of late-night Moscow traffic.
“Shit, shit, shit.” My eyes catch movement in the distance.
“Fuck, Max. That’s a helicopter,” Sergei says. “We’re stuck on the fucking freeway—I can’t get off. We’re sitting ducks.”
The whoop whoop of a military-grade helicopter gets closer as the tiny black object in the distance moves toward us.
“Max.” Grace sounds fearful.
I look over at Elena, and she’s pale.
We both turn around and buckle up.
“Sergei, you need to run this car off the bridge,” I tell my right-hand man.
“What the fuck, Max?” Grace screams at me.
The fear in her eyes breaks my heart. “Babe, I promise we’ll be safe.
It’s not far, put your seatbelt on tight.
” She’s shaking her head, so I do it for her.
“You’d better message whoever you report to and let them know the situation has turned south.
That you are starting your exit strategy,” I tell Elena.
She nods and pulls out her phone. “This is Agent Vasiliev. I’m compromised, deploying exit strategy A, going dark.”
I hear a voice on the other end of the line and then she hangs up.
Sergei relays the situation to the guys on the phone, and I can hear shouting before he hangs up. “ETA to the bridge, five minutes.”
The car is quiet, except for Grace’s sobbing.
I wrap my arms around her, whispering to her, letting her know everything is going to be okay.
“ETA two minutes.”
I look up. The helicopter isn’t far now, then I hear it, the machine guns sound like a freight train. The back end of the car crumples as the bullets hit it.
Sergei turns the wheel as we reach the start of the bridge.
That’s when we crash through the barrier and fly.
Everything happens in slow motion. My arms stay tight around Grace while her screams fill the car.
We freefall for what feels like minutes but is only seconds.
The murky water of the Moskva River comes into view, and we hit it with a thud.
The car slowly sinks, pulling us under, then everything goes black.