Chapter 21
M ila wrapped a towel around her body as she stepped out of the steamy shower in the en suite bathroom.
Scrubbing the blood and death from her skin had finally made her feel human.
She’d killed many times, but they’d all been clean executions.
Wearing another person’s blood had made nausea thick in her stomach.
She headed into the neat-as-a-pin guest bedroom. Dana had helped Mila carry up her things and had told her to make herself comfortable while she ordered pizza.
Dana’s kindness made her feel safe and welcome, but she didn’t want to spend the night here. She went to the nightstand, where her phone was charging.
She’d meant to switch to her encrypted phone, but she still hadn’t given Ghost the new phone number and didn’t want to miss a call or text from him. She illuminated the screen and her shoulders dropped. Nothing.
Nothing but the messages and missed calls from Irinia staring back at her—a drilling reminder of what she still needed to do.
Better now than later.
She quickly changed into the pair of pajamas Ghost had bought her. The cozy flannel pants and blue waffle shirt offered some comfort.
Three texts from Irinia and a dozen missed calls: some from Irinia, some from Boris, Irinia’s brother, and some from Neo.
Almost all of them had come through two days ago, when she’d been due to confirm Ghost’s death.
The most recent call had come through not long ago—when Neo had presumably tried to warn her.
She called him first. The line rang but no one answered. He didn’t use voicemail, so after a handful of rings she hung up. Shit.
Wetting her lips, her nerves spiraling out of control, she hit Irinia’s contact and sat on the bed.
She answered after the second ring. “ Mila? ” The thick accent loaded with shock and concern made uninvited emotions rush forth.
Hate. Anger. And, dammit, longing.
Irinia had been cruel and distant at times, but part of Mila had always sought her approval.
Some delusional area of her brain still believed that if she was good and did everything Irinia asked her, maybe she’d see her parents again.
The heart of younger Mila still lived somewhere inside her. “Yes, it’s me.”
A string of curses in both English and Russian floated through the phone. “Where are you?” she finally demanded, once she settled down.
Mila squeezed her eyes shut. Not, “Are you okay?” or “What happened?” Just outrage that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be and hadn’t reported to Boris.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she shot back.
Irinia tsked. “Cleary you’re fine or you wouldn’t be calling. You have a lot of explaining to do. Do you realize how this makes me look? You didn’t follow through with a contract—”
“I was caught.”
“Is he alive right now?” Irinia barked, her tone indicating she already knew the answer.
Mila balled her hand into a fist. As much as she wanted to tell Irinia to shove it and hang up, she needed her to know Neo could be in danger. “I think something happened to Neo,” she said, ignoring Irinia’s question. “I was attacked, and I think someone got to him.”
For a moment there was dead air on the line. “Hmm. We’ll check on him. Where are you? I’ll have someone—”
Mila gathered her strength. “I’m done, Irinia.” Her words came out strained, tired, but unwavering.
“You’re done when I say you’re done.”
Mila’s hands shook with anger. She clutched the phone to stop herself from throwing it.
At one point, she’d have been terrified to go up against her abductor.
Hell, a week ago, she wouldn’t have dared to think of a different life.
But now there was no going back. Even if she and Ghost stopped talking after today, she wanted freedom.
Any semblance of it. She’d made up her mind.
She wanted to give her mother peace beyond the grave.
“You’ve taken everything from me,” she spat. “My family, my childhood, my innocence—my life . But I’m not a scared little girl anymore. You’ve controlled me for a long time, but Madame ,” she growled with disdain, “this is over.”
She hung up and dropped the phone on the bed. Pressing her shaking hands to her forehead, she inhaled slow and steady through her nose.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
An enormous wave of relief washed over her. A thin, brittle laugh bubbled from her lips. She’d done it. She’d finally broken away from Irinia.
She was certain that the old woman wouldn’t go away quietly, that she’d insist on having the last word or try bullying Mila into doing what she’d wanted, but there was no turning back now. There was nothing Irinia could say or do to make her return to that kind of work.
She pressed her palm to her chest. Tears streaked down her face. Part of her couldn’t help but regret not making this decision sooner. Not having the courage to escape Irinia before her family died.
But she couldn’t obsess over something she couldn’t change. All she could do was be grateful she could now do what she wanted. Anything she wanted.
She got to her feet and wiped her tears. Then she grabbed her phone from the bed in case Ghost called and made her way back to the kitchen, giddiness lifting her steps.
Dana stood at the island wearing pink silk pajamas and fluffy white slippers. “Look at us! It’s a pajama party—” She gasped. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?” Confusion puckered her brow as she came around to meet Mila.
“Everything’s fine. Great, actually. I just—” What could she say? How much did Dana know about her and, more importantly, how much did she want to divulge?
Dana rested her hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t have to share. As long as it’s good news, I’m happy for you.”
Mila relaxed and fresh tears burned her eyes. Already she could see Dana being the friend she’d never had. “Thank you.”
“I ordered pizza,” Dana said. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Mila smiled. “Starving.”
“Good.” She beamed. “Let’s find a movie.” She hooked her arm in Mila’s and led her to the couch.
A warm, fuzzy feeling went through her as she sat down, for once feeling truly accepted.
***
Fuck.
The guard’s yell boomed through the night, alerting all the other guards. The man reached for his gun, but Ghost slammed the knife into his neck.
His eyes went wide with horror as he clapped his throat. He sunk to the ground then tipped into the pool.
Gunfire and shouts erupted around Ghost. He ducked as a bullet flew by him.
“East side is secure!” Zain bellowed in Ghost’s ear.
“One down on the west,” August said.
Ghost bolted across the lawn, wiping his knife on his pant leg as he ran and then tucking it back in its sheath. Securing his gun in his hands, he reached the back door.
Aiming at the lock, he fired.
Crack!
The sharp blast of metal on metal roared in his eardrums. He pushed open the door and spilled into a large mudroom.
“Go, go, go!” someone ordered from inside.
Ghost clenched his teeth and stormed across the slick marble floor. The mudroom opened up into a huge kitchen. He’d barely taken in the gleaming granite and mahogany wood before a guard blipped on his radar. The guy popped out from the side of the island and shot.
A bullet whizzed by Ghost’s head. Drywall exploded and hammered the back of his neck. He dove to the floor, skidding out of the man’s sight.
His finger burned with the need to get up and fire a shot but he held back, waiting for the prick to make his next move.
A radio crackled. “Matt, are we clear?”
“I might’ve got him,” the guy answered, his voice hoarse.
“We made it to the bunker.”
“Copy.”
Ghost smirked and stayed crouched, shuffling silently over the floor. He stood and aimed his rifle at the spot where the man had popped out moments before.
The guy’s shoes squeaked as he shifted. Anticipation made Ghost’s palms sweat. A dark mop of hair rose over the edge of the counter and Ghost fired.
Crack!
There was a loud smack as the man hit the ground. Then silence.
“Kitchen’s clear,” Ghost said into the mic.
“Comin’ in the back,” Rami said, huffing.
A second later, boots clomped through the mudroom. Rami, August, and Zain entered. Rami’s mouth hitched at the corner. “I see you didn’t waste any time.”
“Don’t have much of it,” he ground out.
August breezed ahead, his rifle in hand. “Let’s clear the place before we find the bunker. I don’t want any surprises.”
“Dude doesn’t have a family, so we don’t have to worry about that,” Rami said.
“Still. Let’s check it out.”
They moved swiftly through the house, which had to be over fifteen thousand square feet. They checked all six bedrooms on the second level, cleared the main level one last time in case someone had come in from outside, then headed for the basement.
“Why the hell does a single asshole have a house this size?” Zain scoffed.
“Small dick,” August answered.
Ghost snorted while Rami and Zain laughed. They followed the winding staircase to the lowest level.
“Clear it.” As soon as the words were out of Ghost’s mouth the guys moved like a calculated team of soldiers. Each one veered off in unison.
Ghost pivoted to the great room, which held a bar, pool table, stripper pole, and entertainment center. He stalked over the plush carpet, sweeping every nook and cranny before circling his way back to the staircase.
Zain met him there. “Bedrooms are clear.”
August came next. “Gym’s empty.”
Rami was last. “Storage room checks out. I found a bookcase in an office. I bet that’s the bunker access.”
Ghost’s shoulders bunched. “Show me.”
Rami led the way down a hall. They passed a few rooms before reaching an office at the end. A desk and artificial plants decorated the space. A large bookcase took up the farthest wall.
“This has to be it.” August stepped forward and examined the shelves. “There’s gotta be a lever or some shit.”
Ghost approached the bookcase, and Rami and Zain looked around the desk.