Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“His men are gone,” one of the guards said upon entering the room. The place was dark with two wall sconces as the only source of illumination, which afforded them just enough light to see. Three windows faced the mountainside on one wall, three the direction of the lake on the other.
Zoran was in his wheelchair alongside his son, who had his back to the wall where he sat on the floor, hugging his knees, eyes on the ground. Zoran appeared frail, not like the robust man Jesse had scoped eighteen months ago. His too-long brownish-gray hair was partially hidden by the popped collar of his jacket, and his hair nearly concealed his eyes from view as well.
Jesse diverted his focus from Zoran to check on the four hostages tied up, thankfully within range of one of the windows that Sydney’s drone had spotted them through earlier. Their hands were tied behind their backs as they sat in what looked like dining chairs that’d been brought into the room. Black cloth bags hung over their heads, and since they were quiet, Jesse assumed their mouths were taped as well. But there were twitches of movement to indicate they were still alive.
Two men armed with AKs flanked them, standing just off to the side of the window and out of range for any of Alpha or Bravo Team’s men to take a shot.
But where was Yuri?
Jesse, Carter, Zoey, and Thatcher had been stripped of not only their weapons and ammo, but their chest plates as well. Not a great sign.
“You’re the one who shot me.” Zoran’s wheelchair whirred as he moved closer, but Jesse tore his gaze over to Zoran’s frightened ten-year-old boy.
This asshole isn’t going to win Father of the Year anytime soon , Jesse thought bitterly.
“I am.” Jesse had his only “weapon” ready to go, his fists locked at his sides. “I didn’t shoot your mother though,” he said, speaking to the kid, causing the boy’s eyes to dart his way.
He saw something of himself in that boy. A father was supposed to protect his child, not hurt him.
“Where’s the bomb? Where’s Yuri?” Carter stepped away from the wall where they’d been lined up, but in doing so, one of the armed men trained his AK on him.
“You killed my wife?” Zoran asked, his tone sharp as he looked at Thatcher instead of answering Carter.
“Your brother and your right-hand man offered you and your wife in exchange for intelligence. I did what I had to do,” Thatcher remarked.
Zoran tipped his head, quietly studying Thatcher as he lifted a 9mm from his lap. “Tell me why I shouldn’t end your life.”
“You want revenge for the death of a woman who cheated on you with your brother?” Thatcher asked.
Zoran rolled closer. “Your intelligence is inaccurate. My wife didn’t cheat on me. Yes, my brother is the boy’s biological father, but only because I’m sterile.” Zoran kept his weapon steadily focused on Thatcher. “I wanted our son to have my blood, at the very least. My wife was, what is the saying, artificially inseminated.” His eyes remained locked on Thatcher. “My brother wanted the boy. He betrayed me. Aleksa Stankovi? betrayed me. My wife? No, she was no traitor.” And with that, Zoran abruptly fired. Thatcher snarled and clutched his shoulder as he went down on a knee, but the stubborn SOB didn’t make a sound, unlike the hostages who cried out, their voices muffled.
Two weeks ago, Jesse would’ve knelt alongside his old boss to help. But now? He hated that even a small piece of him worried Thatcher might die. After everything Thatcher had done, and with Ella still in danger . . . he should’ve asked Zoran for the gun and killed his former boss himself.
“You put me in this chair,” Zoran noted, his eyes and now the gun in his hand pointed to Jesse. Biting down on his back teeth, Jesse prepared himself for the bullet that was sure to come.
“I told you to wait,” a man barked out as he strode through the open double doors with a few armed men. Jesse breathed a quiet sigh of relief, pretty sure Yuri had just saved him from taking a bullet.
“Yuri,” Zoey whispered, stepping forward alongside Carter.
“Hello, Zoey.” Yuri strode closer to the four of them.
The lighting wasn’t good enough for Jesse to make out the man’s eye color, but he was well-built, at least six-four, and had dark hair. The light from the sconces, though dim, highlighted the scar on his cheek that Carter had gifted him years ago.
“Where’s the bomb?” Jesse asked, needing to cut straight to the point to save Ella and Sydney. And a thousand others.
“My men won’t interfere and risk you killing us or the hostages if that’s what you’re afraid will happen once you share the location.” Carter managed to keep his tone steady when Jesse knew he wanted to rip the man apart.
Yuri stroked his jaw, his eyes roaming over Carter as if he’d been waiting for this moment for so long he almost didn’t believe Carter was really there. “You know, tonight hasn’t gone much differently than I originally planned. You’re still here. The bomb is still there.” He pointed to the window, the direction of Hallstatt. “And we’ll have our . . . what do you Americans call it? A Western showdown.”
“The bomb,” Jesse prompted, holding himself back from lunging forward and getting their showdown started right the fuck now. If that’s what this hitman wanted, he’d happily go up against him.
Yuri lifted his wrist and checked his watch like he had all the time in the world. “In fifteen minutes, a bomb inside the Bone House will detonate. Hidden in the room where the decorated skulls are located. That’s not enough time for your men to get across the lake, so I hope you have someone there who can defuse it.” He shrugged, then flicked his finger, gesturing for Carter to make the call.
Fifteen minutes? He struggled to remain calm, but his pulse raced and his stomach knotted.
He doesn’t want to be labeled as a terrorist, Jesse reminded himself, hoping the assassin wouldn’t suddenly change his tune tonight. If anything happened to Ella . . . so help him.
But Yuri, a man who’d been so clever for decades, had to be off his game. Otherwise, he’d have anticipated Falcon Falls’ arrival, and the team could use that to their advantage. Press the right buttons to guide the narrative their way.
Jesse pivoted his focus to Carter holding the phone, speaking to Sydney. He searched his memories for what he knew about the Bone House from his research on Hallstatt. The Bone House was in St. Michael’s Chapel, a stone’s throw away from their lakefront lodge.
When Carter lowered the phone, he looked at Jesse with a slight nod, letting him know Sydney was on it.
“How do you want this to play out?” Carter asked coolly after pocketing his phone. “You’re armed, and we’re not.”
Yuri stepped alongside Zoran’s wheelchair. “He’s unable to fight for his revenge, but others can do it for him. Unless you want to just go for him now?”
Zoran looked over his shoulder at Yuri, sweeping his hair away from his face as if needing to get a good look at the man, seemingly confused by his cryptic words.
“On second thought,” Yuri started while pivoting to face Zoran, “I’ll take care of it.” He shot Zoran twice in the chest, and more cries erupted from the hostages.
Yeah, you’re nuts . Jesse ripped his focus toward the boy who’d watched his father executed before his eyes, but the kid didn’t budge.
“That wasn’t ideal,” Yuri said after Zoran’s body had slumped forward in the chair. “But he insisted on being here, which means he saw my face. My deal with him was to kill you and Ella,” he added, “but I never promised he’d leave alive.”
The last thing Jesse had expected was for Yuri to eliminate one of their problems for them. Evidence Yuri wasn’t stable, especially in Carter’s presence. But to be honest, Jesse wasn’t so sure if he’d be able to kill Zoran in front of the kid.
“And what of the boy?” Zoey whispered, her attention riveted toward the ten-year-old.
Yuri followed her gaze to the kid. “I’ll train him. A new me, what do you think?” He sported a slight smile, eyeing Zoran in his wheelchair, and then he handed off his weapon to one of his guards and gestured for him to remove Zoran.
Jesse needed to try and get Yuri as close to the window as possible. Griffin was their best sniper, but he wasn’t with them tonight, so Jack was on the long gun. With any luck, he was already perched on high ground, his scope trained on the window, ready for when he had a clean shot.
“Are you giving us guns to even the playing field?” Carter asked as Yuri began to roll one dress shirt sleeve to his elbow. “I thought you wanted a face-off? Or do you plan on being like Stalin? Line us up and shoot?”
Yuri winced at being compared to a Russian. Smart thinking, Carter. While waiting for Yuri’s next moves, Jesse glanced at Thatcher, still on his knees and holding his shoulder.
“Fine, fine.” Yuri did a three-sixty in the room to peer at his men. “Rifles down.”
The guards looked at each other, their fear on display that their boss was losing it. That it was becoming more inevitable by the second that they’d end up dead just like their counterparts who Falcon had taken down upon infiltrating the castle.
“Now,” Yuri yelled, spit flying from his mouth. He smoothed a hand over the scar on his cheek, a gleam in his eyes as he looked at the man who had put it there, no doubt excited that he was on the cusp of the payback he cherished.
Yuri’s men slowly set down their AKs as if more afraid their boss would turn on them than Jesse and the others at the moment. They kicked them away, but Jesse had to assume they were also packing sidearms and knives.
“You’re mine, Yuri. You deal with me,” Zoey calmly said.
Yuri grinned as if impressed by her boldness, but Carter grabbed hold of her arm when she tried to move past him.
“Zoey, Zoey.” Yuri shook his head as Carter restrained the woman who appeared to be hell-bent on her own revenge. “What if I were to tell you I didn’t kill your fiance? that day?”
“You’re lying,” she responded, and Yuri flinched as if offended.
Jesse looked away from him and took inventory of the room while Zoey distracted him as planned.
Five guards. But who’d they fear more? Jesse and his teammates? Or their boss?
Jesse calculated his next steps, playing them out in his head. The guard off to his left would be the first to go. Use him as a shield when the other guard would go for a sidearm on instinct.
“I’m not a liar. You know that. You’ve been researching me, right?” Yuri pushed the heel of his hand beneath his chin and cracked his neck, looking more and more like a psychopath, then stalked two steps closer, eating up the space between himself and where Carter held on to Zoey.
They were too close to each other for Jack to get a clean shot.
Yuri looked toward the window, which lacked blinds and drapes, and he backed up one step as if realizing he’d be in a sniper’s line of sight.
So, you have some sense left in you. They needed to knock the rest out and soon.
“Preston was your target,” Zoey said, her tone less steady this time. “You never fail, right?”
“He was my mark, but he got away from me that day. Better fighter than I’d anticipated.” He smiled. “By the time I caught up with him on the street, he was already dead. Someone else killed him. Bullet to the head. But a dead mark is still a dead mark.”
“You’re lying,” she said again, and Yuri snarled.
Being compared to a Russian. Called a liar. His trigger points.
Zoey started to go for him again, and Carter worked hard to pull her back. Jesse was pretty sure Yuri had also hit her trigger point. Preston.
Jesse stole a quick look at Thatcher, and he nodded, confirming he’d still be able to fight. But he’d wait for Carter to make the first move.
Seconds later, Jesse spotted Carter in his peripheral view shove Zoey toward Jesse as though pushing her to safety before he went for Yuri.
“Don’t kill them,” Yuri growled out to his men in warning. “I’ll deal with them after I kill Carter. I made a promise to do it personally, and fuck if . . .” He lost his words when he dodged a swing from Carter. “Just keep them occupied,” he hissed while striking Carter in the side a second later.
Jesse swiftly focused back on the guards, who appeared confused yet again by their boss’s order. They had to know they’d die if they didn’t kill Jesse or Zoey first, but they appeared to still be contemplating which fate would be worse. Try their hand at fighting Jesse and Zoey? Or defy orders?
We’re about to find out. Jesse lunged toward the guard at his nine o’clock.
Grabbing hold of the guard’s legs, he pulled the man to the floor and into a chokehold, then snagged the gun holstered at his back just in time to use him as a shield when another guard fired his sidearm, deciding to disobey Yuri’s directive.
The bullet pegged the guard in Jesse’s grasp at the same time he shot the other man, nailing him in the head.
“Jesse,” Thatcher roared, suddenly throwing himself in front of him before Jesse realized what was happening and . . .
Zoey popped off a shot at the guard that’d just fired, catching Jesse by surprise, but it was too late for Thatcher. He’d taken one in the chest.
“What the hell,” Jesse hissed, angry at his old boss for sacrificing himself. He didn’t have time to check if he was alive or yell at him for what he’d done because he and Zoey had two more guards to deal with while Yuri and Carter fought alongside one of the walls.
The two remaining guards were smarter than the others, maintaining their positions by the hostages, weapons trained on their heads.
But if Jesse and Zoey lowered their guns, would these guards shoot to kill, also ignoring Yuri’s command? He couldn’t take any chances, so he ran through the possible outcomes in his head as he glanced at Thatcher on the floor. Slight movement from his legs. Still alive?
“We both put our guns down at the same time,” Jesse offered. “Your boss doesn’t want you killing us. And you know if you shoot a hostage, the second you pull the trigger, you’re dead.”
“And what do you suggest? We fight too?” one of the guards sputtered.
Jesse stole a look at Carter and Yuri as they continued fighting. “You have a better idea? Because I’m not getting rid of my gun if you’re still holding one. We just shoot each other, then?” He kept his voice as steady as possible.
“Fine,” one of the guards spoke up. “Same time, we all lower our guns, and we go at this like them.”
Jesse nodded and took a knee, waiting for the moment to go for the knife he’d carefully snatched from one of the dead guards by his feet, the one who’d been a human shield.
The second the two men started to move their guns away from the hostages, Jesse released his sidearm as well, and he remained kneeling, waiting for their next moves.
“You got this?” he whispered to Zoey, who was still off to his side.
“Of course,” she answered as the two guards maneuvered around the hostages, suddenly rushing them with new weapons. Knives.
“I can’t kill you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you suffer,” one guard said as Jesse dodged the first wild swing of the blade. The guy was as big as Yuri, but Jesse had gone up against his type in the past.
And Thatcher had been right about one thing.
Ella needed to serve as his motivation, not as a distraction.
Jesse struck the beast of a man with his elbows and then leg kicks before dropping to his knees and stabbing the man in the side in the process.
A groan from Zoey momentarily stole his focus, and he realized she was pinned down beneath a guard, grappling to stop the knife he had aimed at her throat.
Jesse sprang to his feet, ignoring the guard he’d been fighting to save Zoey. He pulled the man off her, and in one fast movement, sent a side kick to his abdomen, kicking him into view of the window, and Jack nailed the fucker. Thank God.
Jesse spun around to find the guard he’d stabbed coming at him with a knife, and their bodies collided within a second. From over the guy’s shoulder, he spied Zoey on her back, aiming a gun their way. Jesse quickly shifted to the side, allowing her to take the bastard down with a headshot. The man crumpled to the ground, knees first before falling backward instead of forward like in the movies.
But shit, something wasn’t right.
Jesse set a hand to his side, then to his abdomen in search of what felt like . . . a knife. He bit down on his back teeth as he held the handle of the blade, not sure if he should keep the thing in there for now.
“Leave it,” Zoey hissed as she stood, then turned her attention to their HVT and Carter still battling damn near Mortal Kombat–style.
“Back away from him. Now,” Zoey yelled out, her gun aimed at Yuri as Carter and the man continued to go blow for blow. Bloody and beaten up, the both of them.
Jesse looked around the room, grateful the hostages and the boy were still unharmed, but the poor kid was rocking and clutching his legs, clearly terrified.
“Zoey,” Carter called out, breathing hard. “Don’t.”
Now that Yuri’s men were no longer a threat, Jesse’s awareness zeroed in on the pain in his side, but he ignored it as he tried to decide what in the hell to do next.
“The CIA wants him alive.” Was Carter serious?
Yuri backed away from Carter and focused on Zoey, panting. “You either kill me, or I kill you,” he rasped around a cough, blood spurting from his mouth. One eye swollen shut. “Your choice.”
“Tell me the truth.” Zoey started for Yuri, and Jesse remained locked in place. Save the hitman? Or help her kill him? “ You murdered Preston.”
Yuri wiped his lip with the back of his hand and shot her a bloody, psychotic grin. “As I said, someone else beat me to it. I don’t lie.”
“Who?” she asked, her tone trembling and her arms beginning to shake. She was getting too close to the man, and Jesse knew she was seconds away from being overwhelmed by Yuri, but before Jesse could react, Yuri flung himself her way, prompting Zoey to pop off a shot.
The bullet struck him in the gut, but he kept moving, kept going after her.
“We have to,” Jesse hollered to Carter, letting him know the man needed to die. Screw the Agency.
Carter nodded, and in one fast movement, they both went for him, grabbing hold of his arms and flinging him in front of the window where Jack sent the shot, not missing a beat.
Jesse released his hold of the man’s arm, and Carter did the same, allowing the hitman to fall to the ground.
On his back, Yuri rolled his head to the side, coughing up blood as he focused on Carter. “I guess the . . . better man . . . won. But I was getting . . . bored any . . .”
“Crazy fucker,” Carter said after Yuri’s eyes closed, and then Carter knelt to check for a pulse.
“Ella,” Jesse said, breathing hard at the realization they still had the issue of the bomb to deal with. “Sydney. We need to get them on the line.”
There’d been no explosion, which they would have heard by now from across the lake. But when Jesse checked his watch, there was still one minute left before the deadline.
“Everything is okay now,” Jesse called out to the hostages, then looked over at the boy who still clung to his knees.
“I’ve got Sydney on the line,” Carter rushed out a moment later, clutching his side as if his ribs were broken. “They’re okay. The bomb has been defused.”
And it was only then that Jesse collapsed to his knees, allowing the pain from the knife to overwhelm him. “They’re okay,” he whispered as his lids became heavy. “They’re okay.”
“Shit,” he overheard Zoey as his eyes shut. “I think Thatcher’s dead.”