Chapter 27 Empowered
Chapter twenty-seven
Empowered
Evelina didn’t try to keep track of where Dante’s borrowed men went, knowing only that they spread out to get a better hold on the scene and their enemy.
Instead, she put her energy into keeping her composure as she moved forward through the cozy public space of the distillery and pushed into the larger interior.
Otto held position at her side, his hand still locked around hers.
She knew he was having a harder time than he maybe ever had before, and she hated that.
She just didn’t know how to make it better for him without first forcing him to endure the scary part.
She had offered to let him sit with Artem—the safest place she could think of—while she and her new cousins went to retrieve his father, but of course, Otto had flat-out refused.
Really, she hadn’t expected him to take the offer. But she would have let him.
It was only a few moments before Grisha, Iouri, and a handful of men she didn’t recognize came into view.
Grisha was perched on a barstool, gun already in one hand and looking none the worse for wear despite that Evelina was certain she’d hit him at least once at their last confrontation. Apparently, she hadn’t hit him anywhere helpful.
Iouri was on the floor, gagged and bound around the middle to the fireman’s pole no one had ever bothered removing. He had some visible bruising and blood stains on his shirt, but his unswollen eye was open and from the way he responded to the sight of them, he was clearly alert.
Still, her heart lurched to see him injured. She much preferred him laughing and at ease.
There were four men easily visible beyond Grisha and Iouri, all armed and angry-faced as if they had been personally offended in some way.
Which was awfully ballsy of them, considering how damn pristine their big, visible guns were.
Behind those men, Evelina spotted two more figures lingering on the edge of the overhang, trying to keep themselves out of sight.
If Grisha had gotten his way, she doubted any of them would have left alive.
Grisha frowned and tapped a finger against the side of his Glock. “I believe I said to come alone.”
Otto made a low rumbling sound.
Evelina matched Grisha’s glare. “Your note said ‘no brigadiers.’” She pulled the sticky note from the pocket where she’d folded it before leaving.
“I brought it for reference, if you’d like.
” Then she motioned with the same hand to the tall, intimidating men gathered behind and around her.
“As you can see, these are not brigadiers.”
“Hmm.”
“You think you’re impressin’ anyone, roughin’ up a retired old man?” Otto challenged, his anger thickening his voice.
Grisha shrugged. “He’s sworn Nikolaev. That’s all the reason I need to kill him. If I choose to do it quickly or slowly first, that’s just a matter of my mood.”
Evelina flicked the note in Grisha’s direction and let her arm fall to her side.
“Well, here’s my mood, Grisha.” She waited only long enough for him to narrow his eyes at her.
“You’re going to let Iouri go without further injury.
And then if all your buddies return those nice, shiny new weapons that I presume are the ones from my missing shipment, they die quickly.
Painlessly. But you, you’re going to suffer, regardless.
I can’t think of a single reason to bless you with a swift death. ”
Grisha stood to his full height and took a step forward. “You run your mouth just like Pyotr, I see. Useless blyad.” He extended his gun sideways, toward Iouri.
Otto tensed as the breath caught in Evelina’s chest.
She thought she heard one of the men behind her click his tongue, and then, a single word. “Nope.”
Grisha jerked back, his Glock clattering to the ground and his men swinging their weapons forward. But only the one shot rang out, as if everyone understood that this moment was a sort of test.
Evelina didn’t fully understand it. Her ears were ringing from the gunshot, she remembered seeing the arm extend into her peripheral vision, and she could see for herself that Grisha was clutching his arm.
His arm. She cut a look over her shoulder in time to see Romeo lowering his gun as though the Morozovs didn’t still have theirs aimed. “His arm?”
He shrugged. “We promised you dibs. But I have limits.”
A jarring ripping sound yanked Evelina’s attention forward and she saw Grisha roughly fashioning a tourniquet, or bandage, for the wound that seemed to be near the base of his hand. Romeo had damn near shot the Glock straight out of Grisha’s hand.
Grisha lifted a glare toward them as he released the fabric’s tattered edge, keeping his hand pressed high on his chest. “I can see I shouldn’t have been so hasty. Are you showing me that you’ve come prepared to replace Voronin with these”—a sneer twisted his lips—“Italian dress-up dolls?”
Outrage sparked inside her and it was harder than it should have been not to pull her hand free of Otto’s and march up until she could scream into Grisha’s face.
She had to settle for expressing her displeasure in sharp words.
“I really want to carve that sneer off your face,” she said, “with a dull serrated knife.”
Grisha had the gall to look amused.
“I could help with that,” Mikey said.
“One thing at a time, brother,” Dante said, stepping forward to stand parallel with Evelina.
A small space remained between them—room for Romeo to aim and shoot, she suspected.
“Grisha, was it? You still seem to be under the impression you’re in control here.
But regardless of the insults you sling, I assure you, you are not. ”
Grisha shifted his glare to Dante. “I’m not interested in dealing with more Italian pop-ups,” he snapped. “Your era is over.” His gaze snapped back to Evelina, but whatever he was about to say next was cut off when Dante spoke again.
“Such an interesting choice of words for such an ignorant fool.”
Evelina turned her head as subtly as she could to speak softly over her shoulder while Grisha was distracted. “Romeo, can you hit that man with his gun aimed at Iouri? Without hitting Iouri?”
“Piece of cake.”
She knew as soon as the first body dropped, the chaos would begin. Their goal was still to rescue Otto’s father and escape with their lives. So it seemed better to be on the side that kicked that bloodshed off. As Grisha mouthed off in response to Dante, Evelina whispered, “Drop him.”
Romeo pulled the trigger.
The gunman behind and between Grisha and Iouri dropped to the ground.
Grisha dove for his Glock and Iouri kicked out with his unbound feet, forcing Grisha to twist away and fumble with the weapon.
Guns went up, someone popped off a shot, and another half-dozen Morozovs crept in from shadows and behind barrels. A moment after that, the once-large space flooded with armed bodies.
Evelina could barely keep the sounds straight.
She could definitely hear bullets and shouting, but there were other sounds, too.
Slamming, crashing, wood cracking, and of course, cries of sudden pain.
The air began to fill with the scent of whichever liquor was being housed in the nearest barrels, as stray bullets and crash bodies had fractured their structure.
Otto swung her around as something sailed overhead, grunting a curse against her hair.
Evelina blew out a sour breath and did her best to look around, to take stock.
Dante had two men on the floor and one hand still in his pocket, a look on his face like he was offended the pair had even tried.
Romeo was a few feet away, bashing another guy’s face in with the butt of one of her lost weapons.
Mikey had traded his tablet for a knife and was stepping away from the body of a man with a freshly slit throat. Mikey’s words from a short while before flashed through her mind. “He’s not prepared for the war he’s really starting.”
Evelina bounced her gaze around some more, watching as men from St. Louis and more men from Indianapolis worked side-by-side, and alongside a few guys from New Jersey, to crush the batch of Morozovs who’d been set to ambush her.
The Morozovs had come thinking they would crush the last heir of their long-time foe. But Mikey had been right.
They weren’t at all prepared for this slaughter.
It was empowering.
Evelina slid her free hand up Otto’s chest until she could hook her fingers over his shirt collar. She had the wild impulse to kiss him amidst the chaos, but she resisted. Instead, she tugged him close enough to be heard and said, “Let’s go get your dad.”
He blinked at her. “Lina, it’s not safe—”
She flicked at his chest. “It’s never safe. We came here to save him, right? So, let’s do that. We can grab Grisha after.” And to make sure he listened, she pushed herself upright.
Otto grunted his displeasure but allowed her to lead him forward, keeping his body tight at her back. She imagined his head was swiveling back and forth, too.
It was probably a dozen feet, but with the flying bullets and the interruption of one crashing body, it may as well have been a mile.
Otto finally released her hand when they reached his father and rounded the pole to get to work on the thick rope coiled around Iouri’s body. “We’re gonna get you outta here, Pa.”
Evelina eased the gag from Iouri’s mouth before reaching for his nearest hand. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Voronin. We’ll get you taken care of, okay? I’ll take care of everything.” She suddenly felt like crying again and she hadn’t at all been prepared for that.
Iouri coughed roughly and gave her fingers a squeeze. “Don’t cry for me, Lina,” he said, his voice raspier than usual. “I’ll pull through. This … isn’t your fault.”
It was. It totally was.
His fingers twitched, and his good eye flicked past her. “Otto!”