Chapter 36 Lachlan
LACHLAN
Before I could process why my woman stumbled, she collapsed into her bodyguard’s arms. My body locked, rigid.
The elevator doors started to slide shut, and instinct snapped me back online.
Borya was touching her. Friggen touching her.
“Hey!” I took off in a sprint. The exhaustion from handing the Angels their arses got burned away by fury.
I tore through my family, vaulted over a low burning hearth, and drove my shoulder into Borya’s ribs. The impact rattled my bones, but I’d done enough—Natasha tumbled free, hitting the floor.
Unresponsive. She didn’t stir. My heart seized. What had the bastard given her?
Borya snarled and swung. I had to get closer to Natasha to find out what was wrong.
Behind me, chaos erupted. Mam slammed a bottle over a Russian’s head. Leith and Camdyn pinned another man, while Little Brody drove punches into the bastard’s gut. I kept at Borya, fighting him, though inside I knew I needed to detain him. Arrested or given to his boss for retribution.
But he flew over the side of the building.
I stumbled to the edge of the building, panting, and blinked at the rope swinging against the neon sign. He’d clipped in and launched himself like a bloody phantom.
“Crivvens!” I muttered in Scots. “Didnae expect that.”
I dropped back to Natasha, gathering her in my arms. Tears burned hot and blurred my sight. “Tash, babe, please,” my voice cracked. “Wake up.”
Her head lolled, lifeless. I sank to my knees and clutched her tight.
Everything slowed around me.
The Russians. My clan—all my brothers in a fight, except for Jamie, who was nowhere around. The battle froze mid-blow.
“What did he give her!” The growl tore from me, grave and raw.
Eyes wide, a Russian pointed to Rory, who swiped his bloody nose, fist raw and pink. My own brother?
“Natasha …” Rory gasped. “She was fine when I walked away.”
“You gave her that shot,” another Russian thug accused.
“But—”
“Not my brother,” I snarled, rising with Natasha limp in my arms. I was getting her out of here. Now.
The Russians shifted, flanking together to block my exit.
“Are you a Resnov?” I snapped at the one with his chin up, my voice dark with the command.
“Nyet. I work for Mr. Resnov. He will not be happy about this.” His hand twitched toward his blazer.
My da’s steak knife snaked toward his neck.
“Phone,” the Russian said quickly.
It was tense. One wrong twitch and they’d shoot us all. I didn’t care. I had no time. Natasha was slipping away. “I’m taking her to the hospital.” I started forward.
“Nyet!” His hand flew up with the phone, his glare locking with mine. “You will be dead man.”
Dad’s forearms bulged as he fisted the steak knife icepick style at the Russian’s throat. “Call Vassili Resnov. Tell him Lachlan is taking his daughter to the hospital. He can meet them there.”
Chevelle’s voice cut sharp through the silent chaos. “Why did that man try to take the girl? Why did he jump over the side of the building?”
Silence.
The Russian dialed. Mam and Little Brody shoved into the elevator with me.
“We can’t take her to the hospital, Lach,” Mam hissed when the doors closed.
“What?” My throat was raw.
Even my eldest brother raised a brow.
She muttered, “Tell you more once we get out. Alive.”
That was the key. The elevator pinged open. More Russians. Blocking us.
“Move,” Little Brody growled.
“Aye, ye best move!” Mam snapped, pulling a blade from the pocket of her muumuu. Her voice wavered with steel. “I love this girl with all of me, and I’ll not leave her with the likes of you.”
Surrounded, I held Natasha closer, pushing through, my clan circling me. Somehow, the four of us made it to valet. The boy’s hand shook as he passed the keys to my McLaren.
“She needs protection and medical care.” I spoke low, hoping my logic would be the reason he also survived the night for allowing us to leave.
In the back seat, I cradled Natasha, tears dripping onto her soft cheeks. Baby cheeks. Too innocent for her father’s world. My thumb brushed her skin, begging her to wake. Little Brody floored the gas. Mam clutched the handle, barking for him to head to Long Beach.
“Do you think she has time?” I asked, fingers threading through Natasha’s hair.
“We don’t know these people, son. We are taking her to a family friend. I’m texting our cousins now. They’ll meet us there.”
Backup. I got it. In case they followed us.
I looked back.
Two black SUVs were on our tail, headlights blinding, engines snarling.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
“Do you have Vassili’s number?” she asked.
“Yeah.” My thumb continued to coax Natasha’s cheek.
“Okay. Natasha is probably drugged, son. Borya—perhaps the whole lot of them—are on the take by Resnov enemies. A shame, really.”
My hand swiped over my brow, pouring sweat. Nervous. Vassili hates me. He’s not gonna listen to reason.
“Please focus on that call,” Mam encouraged. “Tell the lad all you know. Every detail.”
Lifting up, I slid the phone from my back pocket. This man was gonna murder my entire family over a mistake—over his disloyal enforcer— if I didn’t convince him that he bred this snake.
Jesus, help me. The call rang and rang. “Grrrr.” I tapped the top of the phone against my temple a few times and dialed again.
“What do we do?” Little Brody asked. “My wife … our brothers. Da. They’re … at The Red Door.”
“What we do, son, is”—Mam infused encouragement, squeezing his shoulder—“drive faster. Lose the tail.”