Chapter Thirty-One
In which we learn why it is a terrible idea to piss off Roman.
Roman…
"Kill all the guards. Spare the guests until we can sort them out."
The jet landed on a private air strip, not far from where they're holding Violet and her sisters.
Don Bianchi did know the location of The Chad's compound and was happy to give it up.
First, to repay Father's favor, and secondly, because The Chads stiffed him on Jack's gambling debt.
To me, this proves the supreme arrogance and stupidity of The Chads.
You don't fuck with the Italians when you owe them money.
The more cynical part of me also knows that by giving us the location, Bianchi knows we'll kill them and take care of his issue at the same time without him having to send any of his people.
Dmitri insisted we take most of his men along with my team and Alexsey's.
The Chads seemed far too confident, and the initial drone flyover showed why.
There's a swarm of armed men all over the grounds.
Kolya caught some clear images and identified a couple of faces. It's clear that they are Morales' men.
"That sneaky son of a bitch," Dmitri says. I have him on speaker and Alexsey leans in to listen. "He did find a new partnership. This must be lucrative as hell for him. Why didn't we ever think of buying a venture capital firm? There's no better place to launder money."
"Yeah, I'll put that on the to-do list for next week," I say.
Alexsey eyes my hand, currently gripping my stiletto, knuckles white. "Not the time for light-hearted banter, brother."
"Sorry, Roman," Dmitri says. "I am taking this seriously, you know that."
"I know you are, because you gave me half of your people." I massage the back of my neck. "Don't you have that meeting with the Canton Syndicate tonight?"
"We're going to hold off," he says. "Father wants to make sure that you have everything you need. It seems wrong to be holding business dinners while you're out there."
I scratch my chest. I'm wearing an itchy black tach suit, but it's better for ease of movement and carrying multiple guns and knives. "You've been working on this partnership for months."
"We want to be certain that if you need more men, they're ready to go." My father has joined the conversation, Dmitri must have us on speaker, too.
"Hello, Father. Thank you for the extra support."
His deep voice is tinged with the slightest tone of amusement.
"It's been so long since I've been in the field," he says.
"I must admit I regret not going along. Your cousin Nikandr is unhappy that you flew out without him, but he's handling the exchange with the MacTavish cannabis shipment at the docks.
Thirty tons of top-grade material. The buyers are very pleased. "
"Tell him thank you for handling it for me, if you would," I say. The driver turns down one of the winding side roads that runs adjacent to the mansion where my bride is being held.
I enjoy this, thinking of her as my bride. I grin, pleased at how it sounds. "Father, Dmitri, we must go, we're nearly there."
"Good luck,” Dmitri says. "Let us know when you've killed those yuppie pricks."
"Stay sharp," Father adds gravely. "Use that quick and clever mind of yours along with your usual brute force. You're remarkably cunning when properly motivated."
"Of course, Father, goodbye for now." I put away my phone. It's pitch black past the headlights, the estates are few and far apart on this stretch of the coast, and we're past the desultory street lights on the main road.
Alexsey grins at me as he puts a stiletto in his boot and checks the clip on his rifle.
"I'm taking two of the men with me, we'll be on the granite cliff to the north," he says.
"The largest concentration of Morales' assholes and The Chads' guards seems to be on the beach side, they're unusually confident about the front entry.
I don't want to use any explosive drones until I know you've located the girls. "
"Thank you brother." We grip each other's forearms for a moment. "Kto ne riskuyet, tot ne p'yot vodku. He who doesn’t take risks doesn’t drink the vodka."
"I'll have a bottle of Russo-Baltique for us to share afterward," Alexsey says as the SUV slows to a stop. He and two of his men jump out, dropping down and disappearing into the sea grass, like wraiths.
Switching on my headset, I address the rest of the team.
"The largest concentration of guests, according to the footage, is in the ballroom and out on the terrace.
There hasn't been a glimpse of the three potential grooms nor of the girls.
So, they're located elsewhere. Kolya tells me that Morales and his wife just came out on the terrace.
Try to take him alive, but if a bullet should somehow end up between his eyes, who am I to criticize you? "
There's a low chorus of chuckles, and then everyone counts off their location and I switch the comma off. Ivan and fifteen of our men are packed into two SUVs as the other vehicles peel off in different directions.
"I'm not worried that they're going to kill the girls," I say.
"They want them too badly as prime breeding material.
But that doesn't mean they won't hold a gun to their head if we rush them.
" Everyone around me nods, looking grim.
"Move quickly, avoid making noise until we have to.
The first one to find their location, sound off to the others. "
The entire mansion is lit up like some sort of elaborate spaceship, and the sound bounces off the rocky granite shore, the clink of glasses, the indulgent chatter of guests. Switching off my safety, I take a deep breath, grounding myself.
Violet, my sweet, sweet Violet, your husband's coming for you.
I can vividly picture the expression on her face when she finds out that we're husband and wife, and I can't stop my huge grin. That's a showdown I'm looking forward to.
Violet…
Colin is incandescent with rage.
During even our worst moments, he's always looked blandly polite. But now, his lips are compressed with fury and in his pale eyes, I can see something darker longing to break out.
He did not enjoy my laughter and I'm trying to dial it back, but even Rose and Iris have their hands over their mouths, desperately trying to hide any evidence of humor.
"Very well," Colin says, between clenched teeth.
He straightens his tie, smoothest back his hair.
"It is only appropriate then that Violet and I have an extended period of courtship.
She will, of course, move in with me and once this ridiculous paperwork is taken care of, we'll marry.
In the meantime…" He smiles benignly at Malcolm and Jonas, "Let's get your festivities underway, shall we? "
"I have to be honest," I say. "I don't think you're going to get Roman to agree to an annulment.
He's extremely stubborn." I speak softly, so that only he can hear me.
I don't want to risk the girls getting hurt.
He leans over, and I can smell the scotch on his breath, with something dark and chemical hidden under his expensive cologne. Something that makes my stomach twist.
"He won't live long enough to cause a fuss," he whispers in my ear. "Marrying a widow is much easier than a divorcee, I assure you."
Then, the lights go out.
There are shocked noises from the guests, anxious twittering, the sound of a glass breaking, likely from someone stumbling into someone else in the ballroom. The sun has long set and it's a nearly moonless night, so the darkness is absolute.
"What the hell! What is going on?" Malcolm's peevish tone is that of a man who assumes there should always be someone to 'take care of such things.'
"There's nothing to be concerned about," Colin says. "We have a backup generator." He pulls his phone out and taps the speaker. I recognize the anxious voice, it's fat John Cena. "Sir, the power to the house has been cut, the security cameras are disabled."
"Put everyone on alert, it's obviously Morozov.
" Colin snaps. "Make sure Morales' men are ready to go.
I want them on the front line." He's unpleasantly close, gazing at me with a flat smile.
Something that a snake would give to the mouse it's about to devour.
"It seems, Violet, that your husband has chosen to make you a widow tonight.
Excellent. I won't have to cancel our honeymoon reservations. "
The thought of it makes me recoil, and he gets a grip on my arm, digging his fingers in cruelly. Damn these white dresses! In the dim light, we're the most visible thing in the room.
Gunfire breaks out, a harsh staccato roar and Iris shrieks. Bullets spray across the front of the house, and one of the windows in the study explodes inward, jagged glass shards hitting the clerk. He yelps, holding his bloody head.
I can hear it now, the screams, a thunderous boom that shakes the house. The formidable iron gate guarding the front groans, hinges tearing and it slams to the ground as an enormous truck plows through it. The harsh light from a fire on the terrace reflects against the study wall.
None of The Chads pull out a weapon. It's the bleeding clerk that opens a desk drawer and pulls out two .357s, stumbling over to offer one to Colin, who handles it with disconcerting ease, checking to make sure it's loaded and flipping off the safety while still gripping my arm with his other hand.
Shit.
Another explosion, close enough to crack the ceiling and sending the chandelier to the floor with a crash that sounds like a sonic boom.
Go go go… get the girls and GO.
I slip my hand in my improvised pocket, drawing out the shard of glass. Colin’s still looking at his gun as I try to drive the glass into his neck. Damnit! He twists at the last second. The glass slices deep into his shoulder with a big spurt of blood.
“Bad girl.” He staggers, off balance.
A high mosquito whine passes my cheek.
He's shooting at me.
The pale glimmer of Iris and Rose's wedding dresses is my beacon, I'm reaching for them, running, tripping over the goddamn train of my dress.
The french doors explode open and the first one through is Melina, wearing night vision goggles and shooting Jonas in the shoulder and in the next second, Malcolm.
I'm falling backward, Colin's yanking on the train that goddamn train was such a bad idea and then, highlighted by the flames behind him, Roman strides into the room. His gaze goes straight to me.
"Ashford. You kidnapped my bride."
Still looking at me, he shoots Colin in the knee, grinning as my 'fiancé' screams. The gun drops from Colin's hand as he crumples to the floor like wet tissue paper.
***
Time seems to speed up and then slows down in disorienting waves. The fire is doused; the screaming stops and the occasional gunshots seem specific. I'm huddled on the window seat, my arms around Rose and Iris as Roman commands his troops with the confidence of Alexander the Great.
Ivan and Melina haul The Chads up, ignoring their pained groans, though we certainly enjoy listening to them.
Roman crouches in front of me, holding my gaze as they're dragged out.
"What are you going to do with them?" I ask.
His devil's grin has never been more terrifying. "Playtime."
"Playtime?" Iris says, frowning. "But they were-"
"Trust me," I say, still staring into Roman's gleaming eyes. "You don't want a playtime like the one they're about to get."
They look at each other, perplexed as I lean closer to Roman, almost nose to nose. "Your bride?"
He shrugs. "I was going to tell you."
***
"Don't look," I tell the girls as we leave the room. "Keep your eyes on the front gate. Don't look anywhere else."
I look, though. I want to remember.
Bodies lay in piles like grotesque lawn ornaments, the stifling fog of smoke from the parts of the mansion that are on fire chokes me, makes my eyes water. There are huge divots in the once pristine lawns and gardens from the explosives.
Colin, Malcolm, and Jonas are thrown roughly into one of the cars, bleeding and stupidly trying to negotiate, still thinking their money was going to save them. Colin's head shoots up and he catches sight of me through the smoke. He keeps his eyes on mine as they shove him in the backseat.
I grab the rough material of Roman’s jacket and kiss him, fiercely. “I love you,” I say, mashing my lips against his in a clumsy kiss. “I love you with everything in me.”
The firelight sculpts his face into angles and shadows as he smiles back, cupping my face in his hands. “I love you, too. I know this isn’t flowers,” he nods at the bullet-ridden landscape behind us. “But it’s the most convincing way to say it.”
I might be crying a little. “It’s absurdly romantic in a really fucked up way.”
His rough thumb strokes over my cheekbone. “That’s what I was going for.” Putting his arm around me, he leads me to the waiting car. “I'm going to take you home."