Chapter 86 - Mateo
MATEO
She’d been gone way too long, and rather than believing she somehow might be in trouble, I had a feeling that she’d gone out of her way to find trouble herself. She just couldn’t wait, she wanted to see his death and she wanted it by her hands.
As much as I wanted to see the bastard bleed under me I knew it was her right just the same, if not more. I wasn’t angry that she wanted it that badly, I was angry that she kept risking her life so carelessly. We all were.
I flipped up my phone and texted Santos;
Celia just went rogue. May need backup.
Rgr.
SANTOS
Icasually walked through the main area into a narrow hallway with a lit up bathroom sign.
I pushed through the women’s bathroom to see if I could find her, ducking low to search for feet but all I could see was a pile of clothes in one corner.
I pushed the stall open and sure as shit it was her clothes and her bulletproof vest.
Goddamnit.
Just as I exited the bathroom some big guy walked past me and made his way to the end of the hall, standing post in front of a door.
Well, well well, thanks for making it easy for me pal.
As I walked closer his face turned with curiosity, like he wasn’t sure if I actually had the audacity to square up to a man his size.
I remembered his face. I remembered him in that room when Celia was tied up and drugged after being sold to us.
So I wouldn’t feel so bad about killing him to get to her.
“Oh, hey big guy,” I cooed out with my hands raised up in the air to the scarred-up, ten-foot tall motherfucker guarding what was surely Sokolov’s door. “Remember me?”
He tilted his head and his hand twitched like he was thinking of reaching for his gun.
But I was faster, ducking under and swiping my feet below him.
He fell to the ground with a hard thud, practically shaking the foundation of the old building.
I slammed my heel into his wrist, immobilizing his hand and reaching for his weapon first before tossing it away.
The lady said no guns.
“I’ll kill you,” he spat out before I felt the weight of his foot against my chest that sent me flying against the wall.
I pushed myself up, watching his eyes slowly shift to the gun several feet away.
No sir.
I barrel rammed into his stomach, punching over and over, each time releasing pained cries from the Bratva lackey.
In one quick move he threw me to the ground, the taste of blood filling my mouth and pain shooting through my body from the force of the impact.
He stood, a pissed off look on his face that said he considered me annoying at best.
He was too big for us to do this standing.
I knew my odds off the ground with a man this size.
This time I beckoned him, flipping my palms up and making a ‘come here’ gesture to taunt him. He scowled, and like an angry bull, he charged. But before he could crash into me, I dropped to the floor and swiped my feet over his ankles again, knocking him off balance.
I didn’t delay, crawling on top of him and practically tea-bagging the son of a bitch as I laid my fists into his face repeatedly.
His fists pummeled into my side, each one a heavy boulder against my body forcing me to spit blood with every hit.
I ignored them, gripping his head tightly in my hand and despite his yelling and his savage strikes, I slowly fought against his muscles as I turned his head to the side.
He lifted his top half off the ground, grasping at my arms to stop me but giving me just the space I needed to turn his head by force.
It wasn’t easy, a man that large had muscles in his neck that were bigger than my wrists.
I dug my fingers into his face, fighting against him as he screamed and fought me until I heard the final crack, severing his spinal cord and making him go limp.
I let go of his head, struggling to stand up from overexertion and pain.
I stumbled towards the wall, resting on it as I caught my breath.
It was the sound of the guns firing behind me that catapulted me back into action, grabbing the gun from the ground and pushing open the door Sokolov’s man was guarding.
My jaw clenched tight at the scene I’d walked into.
Celia’s face jerked to the side with shock and eyes went wide at the sight of me.
A smile stretched over her face from ear to scar as the man’s blood pooled around her hand.
It dripped down her arms, her chest, and over her legs.
She was straddled over an older man with silver hair and a tracksuit while wearing nothing but lingerie, one hand gripping his hair tightly while the other held a dagger plunged deep into his mouth from the bottom of his chin.
Allisher Sokolov.
Or it was him once.
“You’re impossible.” I shook my head, closing the door behind me.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked, her expression turning sweet and innocent.
“You’re impossible, sunshine,” I repeated, pulling her off of him and covering her with my suit jacket.
“Seems like the whole gang’s inside now, we need to get the fuck out of here,” I told her, pulling the knife out from his chin and shoving it into his temple with ease as the blood poured out of his neck.
“Did you make contact with Ronan and Santos?” she asked,
“Who do you think is out there making all that noise?” I pulled the clip out of the dead Russian’s gun to check how many bullets were left.
Eight.
I’d have to make do.
“Check him for a weapon,” I told her. She nodded, patting Sokolov down and fishing inside the inner breast pocket of his jacket before pulling out a 9mm Luger.
“Stay behind me,” I said, putting my arm out in front of her when she tried getting past me to open up the door.
She gave me a look full of sharp knives.
“If you’re feeling suicidal, let me know sunshine.
I’ll take you out myself and do it quick so it’s painless.
Now get behind me before I knock your ass out and carry you over my shoulder.
” She looked at me with her mouth gaped open like she couldn’t believe I was taking this tone with her, but I was finally starting to understand why Zerkos handled her the way he did.
She was a fucking brat, begging to push every boundary she came across and I wasn’t sure if it was because she was aching for a punishment or because she simply didn’t know how to live without conflict.
She smirked, gesturing her hand at the door to let me know she’d be a good girl from here on out. A voice message came in from Santos. It was hard to make out with all the noise, but I could hear broken up shouts as he panicked about finding Celia.
“I got her. Regroup outside,” I sent back to him.
“I’m cornered. I need help.” Santos’ voice came in clearer on the next voice message.
“Where are you?” I sent back to him.
“Stuck inside the fucking DJ booth,” Santos yelled into his speaker.
I gnawed on my cheek, looking back at Celia.
“Mateo,” she warned, knowing exactly where my mind was going. “I swear on all that is—” I interrupted her, pulling her into my body and pressing my lips into hers roughly.
She responded, parting her lips for me and letting my tongue invade its way into her mouth. Her free hand ran up my chest, caressing the side of my cheek and raking through my hair as we deepened our kiss.
“Reina,” I whispered into her ear, doing my best to pronounce it the same way I’d heard the others. “Please,” I begged, pulling back and looking into her black eyes.
“I can’t stay here, not knowing what’s happening out there,” she yelled, not holding back her emotions. “You can’t keep me here, in the dark, with all those guns going off, just waiting for someone to rescue me.” Her eyes welled up with tears but not a single one fell.
I knew what she meant when she said in the dark, she didn’t mean the quality of the light in Sokolov’s office.
She was talking about history repeating itself, her traumas.
She couldn’t handle the idea of being helpless and blind to what was happening out there, while we, her family, might be in danger.
Fuck.
“Fletch, I need cover.” I sent the audio message and waited for a response.
“Where you at boss?” he yelled over the background noise.
“Trying to make our way to the DJ booth.”
I pulled her close behind me and opened the door to find Russians, cártel grunts, and stray Crows alike dead on the ground. Men hiding behind bodies and open doors shooting towards this end of the hallway. We couldn’t go back the way we came.
“Run to that door on my count.” I pointed to the door across the hall from us, it was only five or six feet away, but a bullet didn’t care about that kind of distance.
It was still far enough to die getting there.
“One… Two… THREE!” I pushed her towards the door, barreling myself in front of her and hitting an incoming Bratva soldier dead smack in the chest with a bullet just as she pushed open the door to reveal the backstage area.
It was a complete clusterfuck out there—bodies lying on toppled tables, blood and booze dripping from every surface of the place. Any civilians were likely nice and dead at this point, not that there was much to feel guilty about.
Every fucker inside this place was here to buy a woman.
We gave our men one rule only.
Don’t shoot the girls.
I pushed Celia against a corner, sheltering her from any Bratva asshole in the audience.
That’s when I noticed the three dancers huddled in the opposite end, using the blind spots in the stage to their advantage for cover.
I put my index finger over my lips to signal them to stay quiet, and they nodded fearfully, crouching down further.
I could only hope that they had no reason to fear for their lives. Sokolov’s men would have had no need to injure or kill any of the women who were working here, and our men weren’t set out for that kind of mission. As long as they avoided a stray bullet, they could make it out of this.
Right now, I needed to focus on getting my best friend and keeping the woman we loved alive.