Chapter 13 – BODHI
BODHI
My body moves before my brain catches up. I grab Emma under both armpits and yank her up and over the back of the sofa, growling at her to stay down.
She hits the floor just as the door flies open and the muffled pop of silenced gunshots floats in from somewhere deeper in the house.
Not this room. Not here.
I vault over the furniture toward the doorway, putting myself between Emma and whatever’s coming.
More gunshots echo through the mansion, and through the gap beneath the sofa, I can see Emma pressing herself flat against the plush carpet. Good girl. Stay down.
“They’re not coming for us,” Dimitri shouts, finger pressed to his ear as he listens to his radio. “East wing. Now.”
Not Emma. They’re not here for Emma.
The relief lasts half a second before Dimitri’s eyes land on me. “Lennox. With me.”
Every cell in my body rebels against the order. My mate is right there, vulnerable, with nothing but a sofa between her and chaos. I can’t leave her.
Stay. Protect. MATE.
But Kozlov is already gesturing frantically from where he’s cowering behind an armchair. “Go. All of you. Don’t let them take her.”
He means the other woman. The riskier asset. The one someone wants badly enough to break into the house of a crime boss.
“But what about…” I start, meaning Emma.
“Igor’s coming. He’ll secure this room.” Dimitri is already moving toward the door.
I look back at Emma. She’s pressed flat against the carpet, her green eyes finding mine in the darkness. I see fear there, but also something else. Trust I haven’t earned yet.
“Stay hidden,” I tell her, my voice rough. “I’ll be back.”
Then I’m following Dimitri into the corridor, but every step away from her feels wrong.
The east wing is in chaos. Guards run past us, some armed, some looking half-asleep. Kozlov’s operation is well-funded but poorly disciplined. Half of these men have never seen real combat.
We round a corner and nearly collide with Pavel, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead.
“Three of them,” he gasps out. “Professional. Knew exactly where they were going.”
Inside job. Someone fed them the layout. I file that away and keep moving.
The heavy door at the end of the east wing corridor, the one that’s always guarded, always locked, is still intact, but the guard who should be stationed there is slumped against the wall, unconscious or worse.
Bullet holes pepper the walls around the frame.
Three figures in black tactical gear are working on the lock, one of them holding some kind of device against it while the others cover the corridor.
From behind the door, I hear screaming. A woman’s voice, muffled but furious. She knows they’re coming for her.
Snake is on the ground ahead of us, blood streaming from his nose, struggling to get up.
“Stop them.” Dimitri snaps, raising his weapon.
I’m already moving.
The first attacker sees me coming and swings something, a baton or pipe, at my head. I catch it mid-arc, wrench it from his grip, and use his own momentum to send him stumbling into the wall. A knee to his gut folds him in half. He drops.
The second one abandons the lock and turns to face me, reaching for something at his belt. I don’t give him time. Two strikes. One to his chest, then jaw, and he crumples.
Incapacitated. Not dead. I’m not doing Kozlov’s dirty work.
The third one is already running, cutting his losses, but he’s not my priority, so I let him go.
Emma. Get back to Emma.
“Lost him.” I report, my voice flat, as Dimitri rushes to my side.
Dimitri curses but doesn’t question it. He’s already on his radio, barking orders.
“Lennox, where are you going?” he demands as I turn back.
“Who’s with the girl?” I say without stopping. “I was told not to leave her alone with anyone.”
A pause as he contemplates how much trouble he’d be in if anything happened to Emma. Then: “Go.”
Greed wins. It always does with these people.
The corridors stretch too long as I make my way back. Every corner hides potential threats. My bear is pacing, snarling, barely contained beneath my skin.
Mate. Unprotected. Move faster.
When I reach the lounge, Kozlov is emerging from behind his armchair, trying to reassemble his authority. His expensive suit is rumpled; his face still grey with fear. The great and powerful crime lord, reduced to cowering like a frightened animal.
“This is unacceptable,” he snarls, though his voice still carries a tremor. “How did they get inside? I want answers. I want heads.”
“They knew the layout.” I don’t look at him. My eyes are already scanning for Emma. “Went straight for the east wing. Inside job.”
“It has to have been that fucker. He’s obsessed.” Kozlov curses in Russian. “Someone find out who they were and bring them to me.”
Two men hurry from the room, looking clueless but eager to seem busy.
I don’t care about any of it. Emma is pulling herself up from behind the sofa, pale but unharmed, and the sight of her loosens something in my chest that had been wound painfully tight.
“Bodhi, go check on the Ashworths,” Kozlov orders behind me. “Get a car to drive them home. I need to salvage this deal.”
I don’t move. My eyes are fixed on Emma, cataloguing every inch of her.
“Lennox. I gave you an order.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.” My voice comes out rougher than intended but it’s hard to hide how much they repulse me.
“I don’t care if they’re fine; I care if they’re happy. That’s a quarter million walking out the door if we don’t turn this around.”
Something in my expression makes Kozlov take an involuntary step backward.
“There are other Ashworths.” My voice has dropped to something barely controlled. “There’s only one Emma. You can’t sell her if she’s dead or stolen.”
The words hang in the air between us. Kozlov’s pale eyes narrow, calculating, weighing my insubordination against logic.
“Should I get her locked down immediately?” I ask, softening my delivery, making it seem like his call, his idea. “Before anything else happens.”
Greed wins again.
“Yes,” he says finally, nodding. “Take her to her room. Lock her in and don’t leave her side until I say otherwise.” He’s already turning away, pulling out his phone. “And someone get me a full security report.”
I don’t wait, afraid he’ll change his mind. I cross to Emma in three long strides, and before she can protest, I’m bending down and scooping her into my arms, one arm under her knees, the other around her back, cradling her against my thumping chest.
Her hands fly to my shoulders, and beneath my palms, I feel her trembling.
“I can walk.” She manages.
“I know.” I don’t put her down.