Chapter 50
ROMAN
My pistol rests against my thigh as I sit in the back seat, the city blurring past. Andrei is quiet in the driver’s seat. His face is set in flat, lethal calm.
My phone buzzes with a text from Kyle.
Rounding up the troops, but these things take time. Not a good idea to stay in comm. Look out for the cavalry. Good luck.
I slip my phone into my pocket and take a slow breath. The ping. That’s what brought us here. It’s our only lead, but it’s a good one. And it could mean the difference between life and death, of whether or not I save them all, or lose everything.
Half the buildings here look abandoned, but the active security cameras tell a different story. This is Garin’s turf. Millions of dollars in drugs, guns, and other material sit in these warehouses.
And in one of them is my family.
My men move in two vehicles behind us. My soldiers are ex-military, some worse. And they’re loyal to me. They’ll kill on my command without a second’s hesitation, which is exactly what I plan on having them do.
I stare through the tinted glass and think of Amalie’s hands, the way they steady Sasha’s small fingers when he’s painting. I think of the ultrasound, the heartbeat like a metronome to a life I didn’t know I wanted until it existed.
The warehouse appears, looming and ugly against the winter light. And there, parked along the side, are the cars. Garin’s Rolls Royce is flanked by two sleek black vans.
There’s another vehicle out front, separated from the rest. Max’s car. I recognize it from the camera footage.
Two men in black stand near it, rifles slung over their shoulders, hands tucked into their coat pockets. They’re chatting, cold mist puffing from their mouths.
“Park. Now.”
Andrei pulls off the road before the men notice us. My vans follow suit, and together we park behind a large warehouse across the street, down from the target. The engines die, and the backs of the vans open. A dozen men pour out, all dressed in black tactical gear, all armed to the teeth.
Andrei and I step out of our car, and I take a moment to look over the troops. They stand at attention, waiting for their orders.
“You know the plan. Move silently. Execute thoroughly.”
The men move like phantoms, intentional footsteps carrying them over the gravel. The gray sky of this seemingly eternal winter releases flurries of snow, dusting the ground.
This is good. It will afford quieter steps.
I watch as the men post around the perimeter of the warehouse, waiting for me to give the signal to attack.
“The car,” Andrei says. “What are they guarding?”
“Let’s find out.”
We snap the safety off our weapons and crouch, stepping quickly. I take cover behind a dumpster about fifty feet from the men and the car. One of the guards takes out a cigarette, flicking a lighter in front of it.
“Someone is in the car,” Andrei says.
I stand straight, craning my neck just enough to catch sight of a small head with familiar dark curls. Sasha.
At first, I fear the worst. When the head moves just a bit, the relief that hits me is hot, dizzying, and almost painful. Then rage follows, clean and absolute.
What Garin has in store for my son, I don’t want to imagine. But there’s not a chance in hell I’ll let him succeed.
I exhale slowly, letting the rage sharpen to a blade’s point.
“Prepare to move on my command,” I speak into the comms at my shoulder.
A series of acknowledgments comes back. Several dark figures move closer. On the roof line, two shapes crab walk—my men, practically floating through the gentle snowfall. These two are former Spetsnaz, their training second to none.
“Eyes,” I say. “Get eyes on her, wherever she is.”
Andrei’s gaze stays on the car. “You see him.”
“Yes.”
“But she’s not with him.”
“No.”
I can get Sasha, take him out of here. But Amalie is somewhere in that building, terrified, possibly hurt.
I lock down the thought before it becomes panic.
One of the guards says something to the other, then steps away.
“Think he’s taking a piss,” Andrei says.
“You take the left side of the car, I’ll take the right. Guard is mine. You secure the car, make sure Sasha is okay.”
“Understood.”
“Move.”
We rush forward in tandem, taking cover as we cross the thirty or so meters to the car. My heart’s racing at the reality of my son’s life being on the line.
The other guard is several feet away, only one remaining close to the vehicle. He doesn’t see us.
I wait until he turns slightly, scanning the street.
I lift my silenced pistol, smooth as breath.
One shot.
He folds like his bones have simply decided they’re tired of holding him up. Andrei breaks off, heading to the other side of the car, between it and the other guard. He grabs the handle and yanks the door open. The hinges let out a metallic groan.
Shit.
The other guard’s head snaps toward the sound. He turns fully, grabbing the rifle from over his shoulder as he approaches. I prepare to shoot, but the guard already has his rifle up, muzzle flashing. The crack of gunfire splits the air.
Andrei jerks as he dives behind the car door with Sasha tucked against his chest, shielding the boy with his body. Bullets chew into metal, sparks flying. Sasha makes a frightened noise, muffled against Andrei’s shoulder.
I fire, the guard finally in view. One shot, then another.
The guard staggers as he tries to get another shot off, but he’s already falling. He collapses into a graceless heap, blood pooling on the fresh snow.
I hurry over to Andrei and Sasha, spotting a hole in the back of Andrei’s jacket. I put my hand on his shoulder and he turns. Sasha is underneath him.
He’s alive.
His little hand shoots out and clutches my coat like he’s anchoring himself to me. “Papa?”
“I am here, moy syn. I am here.”
When Andrei looks at me, I fear it is the glassy stare of a man in the process of bleeding out. But there’s no blood.
“I remembered the vest,” he says with a grin. He pulls down his shirt just enough to reveal a Kevlar vest.
Gunfire cracks from within the warehouse. The battle is on.
I look down at Sasha. His eyes are wide, but he’s not screaming. He’s holding it together in the way he always does.
“Can you hot wire this?” I ask.
Andrei cranes his neck to look at the front of the car. “Yes. Easily.”
“Then do it. Get him out of here, back to the mansion. Stay with him.”
Andrei turns his eyes to the warehouse; he wants to be part of the battle.
“You’ve done enough,” I say. I touch the bullet hole in his jacket. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Understood.”
I turn to Sasha. “You will go with Andrei. You listen and do exactly what he says.”
Sasha nods, trembling. “Where’s Amalie?”
My jaw tightens. “I’m going to go get her.”
Andrei slides into the driver’s seat, already working. I guide Sasha into the back seat. “Keep your head down until Andrei says otherwise.”
The engine catches. More gunfire erupts.
“Go,” I say. “I’ll see you both soon.”
I squeeze Sasha’s hand one more time before shutting the door. Andrei nods to me, then guns the engine. The car pulls away and is soon out of sight. Relief washes over me at the knowledge that my son is safe.
But this mission is far from over. Gun in hand, I turn my attention to the warehouse.