18. Rescued
rescued
Tatiana
I slowly scan the estate in a crisscrossing pattern, watching for movement. So far, nothing. My stomach is in knots as I try to not think about how many people I've killed so far.
No time to think about that. Focus.
The sound of the helicopter has been steady for a minute or two, and I still can't identify where it is, the sound dopplering off the ravine walls and muffled by the forest.
I'm not in a great position, lying prone in the brush at the tree line, looking into the courtyard outside the front door at an oblique angle. I can see most of the courtyard, all of one side of the house, and all of the bridge. Nothing moves.
A sound reaches my ears, faint, beneath the chopping of the helicopter—a rustle. A whisper.
Shit.
I lay the rifle down and get out my pistol—Tata taught me to always check a gun before I try to use it, so, as quietly as I can, I check the magazine, ease it back in, click it in place as gently as possible, and then thumb back the hammer. Roll to my back, aiming down my body.
I key my mic. "There is someone in the woods near me," I whisper into the mic.
"Say again?" I hear Solomon say—it sounds so loud in my ear, now that I have to be quiet.
"Enemy," I hiss. "Nearby."
"Nico is coming. Do what you gotta do. Don’t hesitate."
I click the mic button, hoping it will serve as acknowledgment; the rustling is closer now.
I hear voices—whispering in Spanish. Closer. Closer.
My heart pounding, I wait, listening, motionless.
" Ella esta' aqua’ en laguna part ,” the voice says.
“ So, ” Another voice answers.
Two of them, it sounds like, unless there are others not participating in the conversation. The rustling becomes footsteps in the undergrowth, and then I can see the branches moving as they approach my position as if they know exactly where I am.
I hold my breath now, gun braced in both hands, arms outstretched along my body—I am proud, perhaps inordinately so, of how steady the barrel is, considering how hard my heart is hammering in my chest.
A burly arm sweeps aside a clump of ferns; I aim inwards of the arm and squeeze the trigger three times in rapid succession, controlling the kick the way Tata taught me. A wet, wheezing cough, and a short, stout man topples forward, eyes blinking at me in shocked confusion.
Something niggles in my gut, whispering that I should roll over a few times. I don't question the feeling and roll to my left. The gun digs into my gut as I roll over it, and a branch pokes me in the face, but I ignore all that and roll again. The blinding flash of a muzzle precedes by a fraction of a second, the concussive rattle of a machine gun spraying bullets where I'd been, thumping wetly into the man I just killed. Laying on my side, I shrink into a small ball, gun held close to me now, waiting. Another burst of gunfire echoes, rattling and chattering, and dirt sprays and leaves thwack and bark splinters as the shooter fires indiscriminately, spraying side to side.
I wait.
Hold my breath.
A whipcord-lean figure steps over the body of his friend, gun held at his hip, sweeping the area where I'd been laying.
He sees me lying in the undergrowth and swivels to bring his rifle to bear, but he's too slow. My first bullet punches through his biceps, spinning him to one side, and my second tears through his throat, splashing red down his front in spray and then in rivuleting buckets. My third bullet smashes into his chest, the bone cracking wetly as a red blossom spreads dark on his front.
He sinks to his knees, dropping his gun and clutching at his throat as if to hold his blood in.
His eyes glaze over and go sightless, and he slumps forward at an angle.
Running steps crunch and crash through the forest, but I hold my fire, remembering Solomon's word of warning, and his promise that Nico was coming to me.
Sure enough, Nico’s face breaks through the branches, painted with worry. He skids to a halt in the wet, slippery carpet of rotting leaves, staring at the two dead men.
"I heard the shooting," he pants in Croatian. "I was afraid for you, but I should have known better.”
I'm shaking now, eyes wide, hazy with tears. Nausea roils through me, and I close my eyes to combat it, breathing through the acidic burn of bile as it rises in my gorge, swallowing hard against the surge of vomit.
But with my eyes closed, I see the men I killed with the rifle—heads jerking as my bullets splat open their skulls like watermelons.
I roll to my hands and knees, still clutching the pistol in one hand, and spew vomit across the forest floor. I hear his feet, feel his presence, and then he's kneeling beside me, hand on my back.
“It is over now." He murmurs this in Croatian. "It is all over."
"Hel-helicopter?" I pant.
"Mercado got away." He sounds furious about it. “There was a secret tunnel. The helo took off while you were having your shootout."
Another flash flood of images assaults me—blood spraying, Tata's broken body, the man I stabbed and his blood hot on my hands. Vomit hits my teeth and I have no choice but to let it out, spine arching upward as I heave.
Spitting and wiping my lips on my sleeve, I sit on my heels. "Inez?"
"We have her. She's alive. Not in great shape, but alive."
I notice him rubbing at his chest. "Are you hurt?"
He shakes his head. “Took one to the vest. I am well." He sits cross-legged in the wet leaves and pulls me onto his lap. "You were amazing. You do so well, Tati. You are a miracle. I love you so much."
I bury my face in his throat, letting my emotions wash through me. "I hate killing, Nico. I hate it."
“Good," he whispers. "You should."
"It was so easy with that rifle," I whisper. "Too easy."
"I know," he mutters.
“If Mercado is still out there, then it isn't over," I whisper.
"No, it's not totally over. But this part is. We have to get Inez medical treatment. We have no way of knowing where he went, but we'll find him. Inez isn't going to let him get away with what he did to her."
"She is in bad shape?" I ask.
He nods. "She was badly tortured. We arrived just in time to save her life, though. He was about to kill her. We arrived, and he was forced to flee instead."
I do not know how to reply to that, so I say nothing. After a few moments of Nico holding me in silence, He lets out a sigh and kisses my temple. "We must go, my love."
I nod and clamber to my feet, retrieve the rifle where I left it, sling it over my shoulder, and then follow Nico back to the road and the van. Nico climbs behind the wheel and we drive down the road, across the short bridge, and into the courtyard. He bleeps the horn a couple of times.
The big double front doors slam open and Chance emerges in the headlights, his expression grave and furious. In his gargantuan arms, he carries a limp figure wrapped in a blanket. I scramble out of the front passenger seat and open the sliding door so Chance can slide onto the first bench, resting against the far side with Inez in his arms.
She moans softly. "Ren? Where's Ren?"
"Keeping Little Lorenzo safe,” Chance answers. “He and his…” he trails off, unsure how to finish.
"Mom," Inez finishes. "She's his mom. I was his mother, but she is his mom." She has a faint accent.
"Ren figured you'd want him to protect Little Lorenzo and trust us to get you. He wanted to be here, though."
Another quiet groan of pain. "He…fuck." A hiss as she tries to sit up.
"Inez," Chance growls. "Relax. I fuckin' got you, Boss."
"Not…weak," she says, her voice a whisper—but a snarled predator's growl.
Chance actually laughs. "Boss Lady, you're as far from weak as a human being can get. You were tortured half to fuckin' death. You're allowed to hurt."
"But I have to—"
He cuts her off. "You have to rest and recover so you can fuckin' murder Rafael or whatever the fuck his bitch-ass name is. Not one of us will have any less respect for you because you let us take care of you for once.”
I hear her breathing hard. "I couldn't escape. He is no fool. He fears me. He—he made sure there was no way."
"He should be afraid of you," Chance says.
"It hurts, Chance. Everything hurts."
"I know, Boss. Just try to breathe. We'll get you a medic asap."
"I was afraid. He was about to kill me."
"Been there. We all been there. Bein' afraid when you’re face-to-face with death is fuckin' normal. You're still the baddest boss bitch in all the land."
She sniffs a sort-of-laugh. "Don't—ow. Don't make me laugh. Ribs hurt."
"Sorry."
While they talk, the rest of the team loads into the van. I'm on the edge of the first bench nearest the door, and when the last of the team has found a seat, I drag the sliding door closed. The figure in Chance's arms is hidden from me, swaddled in a thick indigenous tribal-style blanket so all I can see is a hint of black hair and a smooth brown forehead, blood-smeared.
Small, rust-crusted hands tug the blanket down from her face and wide, deep, dark black eyes regard me with open curiosity. "You are with Lash." It is not a question.
I nod. "Yes. Nico and I are together."
Her eyes widen. "Nico?"
The man himself leans over the back of the bench, reaching down to grab one of Inez's hands. "I have told them everything. Lash is no more. I am now Nicolae—Nico."
Her eyes flick to his hand on hers, narrowing for a moment as if in warning, and then she lets out a breath with closed eyes and puts her other hand on top of his, squeezing. "Nico. That's good." She looks at me again. "And who are you?"
"Tatiana Juric," I answer.
"Juric…"
"Stjepan Juric was my father." My voice cracks.
"Was?" She looks at Nico.
He nods. "Mercado captured him and tortured him to death for letting Solomon, Scarlett, and Lorenzo escape. For letting me spring them free." He glances at me, then back at her. "And also because he wanted Tatiana for himself, which I also prevented."
“Tell me everything that has happened," she commands, the snap of authority clear in her voice despite the quietness of her tone.
Rev is driving again, pulling around the courtyard. Inez glances through the window at the house—which is remarkably beautiful, I must admit.
"Wait," Inez orders. "The house. Burn it down."
Rev brakes to a halt and Kane and Saxon hop out with a grenade in each hand. They disappear into the house for a few minutes and then emerge at a run.
"Go, go, go!” Kane barks. "'Bout to be a big-ass bada-boom."
Rev guns the engine and the back end fishtails on the wet blacktop, stutters, and catches, and then we rocket forward. I watch through the back window, waiting for the explosion.
There isn't one explosion, though. There are several in a row—four smaller ones in rapid succession: boom-boom-boom-boom in the wings and center of the structure. These smaller explosions shatter windows and blow out walls. The last explosion, however, is a different beast entirely. This one rattles the windows of the van, and the shockwave makes the bridge sway precariously and the back end of the van leaps skyward as we cross it. The center of the house bellies outward and the roof pops off in a shower of red tiles; fire billows hungrily from the windows, licking and spreading eagerly.
"Shoulda blown up his other house," Saxon grumbles. "Motherfucker."
Inez grunts in pain as she grabs the bench back and hauls herself upright to watch the house burn as we drive away from it. Once it's out of sight, she slumps back down against Chance's chest.
She sighs in exhaustion. "Nothing personal, Chance, but I wish you were Lorenzo."
"I know, Boss Lady."
"Now," she says. "Tell me what's happened since I let Rafael take me."
Solomon, Scarlett, and Nico take turns relating the events from Zagreb until we arrived in South America, and then Silas, by some unspoken agreement with the others, relates their side of things—getting the call to assemble everyone and get down to Brazil ASAP, meeting up with us, and everything up to now.
Once she's caught up, Inez spends a few minutes in silence, thinking. After a while, she lifts up awkwardly to look at Nico over the back of the bench. "You gave up going after Pugli to come after me?"
He sighs, nodding and shrugging. "That is correct, to a degree. It was not solely for you, however. Tatiana helped me see that my thirst for vengeance was hobbling me. I let it go so I would have space in my soul to love her. Hatred and vengeance were consuming me. But also, yes, I came for you. I felt my loyalty to you was more important than revenge, and I could not do both."
Inez peers at me through heavy-lidded eyes. "You are a miracle worker, Tatiana Juric. You brought a dead man back to life."
I can only shrug. "I…I suppose I saw beneath the shell that was Lash to the Nicolae within. And selfishly, I wanted Nicolae for myself, not Lash. I love him. It is strange and unsettling to feel such powerful love so swiftly, but I cannot deny what I feel."
“We are all beneficiaries of the courage of your love," she says to me. "I am sorry for the loss of your father. But now you are one of us. You belong with us."
I frown. "Must I be branded as well?"
Inez sniffs a quiet laugh. "No, that will not be necessary. Unless you wish to—but it is not something anyone can be compelled to do. You must truly desire it for yourself.”
I can't help the sigh of relief. "I do not mind swearing an oath—and I would gladly swear an oath to never kill anyone again. I have had my fill of that. But I do not much care much for the idea of being branded or tattooed."
Nico smiles at me. "No brands or tattoos for you, my love. But if you wish to take the oath when Lorenzo and Scarlett do, you may, of course."
Inez frowns up at him. “Lorenzo’s going to take the brand?"
Nico shrugs. "I believe so. I thought I heard him say something about it. I could be mistaken—it has been a very…busy and chaotic and exhausting few days." He frowns. "How long has it been since the airplane was rerouted? I cannot even remember." A shake of his head. "Anyway. Yes, I believe Lorenzo wishes to take the brand. We have all grown to admire and respect him. We could not have succeeded in this without him."
Inez nods. "I would like that."
Chance makes a wordless rumbling sound— a sigh or growl, or something of both. "You need to rest. Be a bit of a journey to get you to a doctor."
"No," she murmurs. "Get me home. No doctors here. Rafael is still out there. This is not over until one of us is dead, and he knows I will need attention. I will live until we reach Las Vegas. Just get us there."
"Boss Lady," Chance starts. "You're in bad shape. You need—"
" No !” She snaps. "The club! That's it. Straight there. No doctors, no medics. Just…home." Her tone softens. "I know my body. I know my limits. You must trust me."
Chance grumbles quietly again. "Only cause you're the boss."
"Damn right, I'm the boss. You know better than to argue with me, you big lunk."
Chance just laughs. "Yeah, yeah, you're the boss. Now shut up and rest."
The ride back to the airfield is quiet—we're all beyond exhausted. Once there, Inez uses Solomon's phone to call Lorenzo.
It rings four times before he answers. "Sol. How did it go?"
“It's me, Ren," Inez says in a low, shaky voice. "You're on speaker."
“Take me off speaker," he says.
She does, and now we can only hear her side. "Yes…Ren, come on …fine. Yes, I miss you as well. I know—I know . No, no doctors until we're back at the Club. I already had this argument with Chance. I'm not having it with you." A long silence as she listens to him. "Good, that's good. No, it would not do anyone any good for either of them to speak with me. Perhaps once this is all truly over….because he escaped , Ren. He's still out there. And you know as well as I do that he will not stop until I am dead or he is." She listens again and then sighs heavily. "I cannot give you those words right now, Lorenzo. But I do care for you. If all goes well, we will be in Las Vegas late tomorrow. We will see. Yes, if you could get us an off-book flight to the States, that would be best. I'll call you again as soon as possible. Very good. You as well. Goodbye."
She hands the phone back up to Solomon, who is sitting in the front passenger seat next to Rev. "He is calling in one more favor to get us home. We will have a long wait ahead of us, but we all need rest, anyway.”
Lorenzo calls us back an hour or so later and informs us that the next flight back to the States from here isn't for another forty-eight hours, so we should find rooms nearby.
This is welcome news to me—I could be tempted to do something violent for a hot shower and a real bed. Inez pulls some strings with someone in the US Embassy in Rio, and we are provided with rooms in a hotel in downtown Rio. These rooms are a far cry from the mid-level one we had in Manaus, or wherever that was. The room provided for Nico and me is a massive suite with a sitting area furnished with expensive leather couches, a full bar, a huge bathroom with a rainfall showerhead, and a king-size bed with a comforter so thick it almost swallows me when I flop down onto it on my back.
I snicker a laugh as Nico sits on the bed beside me.
"What is funny, Lovely One?" he asks, his voice flat with exhaustion, his face pale and drained.
"I am just realizing that I am somewhat spoiled. My thought, as I see this room, is that we have finally gotten a real hotel room."
Nico snorts. "You are the daughter of Stjepan Juric. He always liked the finer things in life, so of course he would spoil his only child."
I turn to rest my head on his lap. "After Mama died, he only spoiled me more, as if to make up for her loss and his own absence due to his work demands. But yes, I have acquired his taste for the finer things in life."
He sighs. "I do not know that I can provide that for you, Tati. I have never been a wealthy man, and to be very honest, I do not care to be. I wish to have enough that I need not worry, but that is about all."
I reach up and caress his jaw. "I do not care, Nico. I know how to make money. I will provide that for us." He opens his mouth to protest. "You will love me. You will take care of me. But I will also love you and take care of you. It will go both ways."
He pulls me onto his lap and draws us up to the head of the bed, knocks away the blankets, and tugs them over us, cradling me on his chest.
His heartbeat thump-thump — thump-thump — thump-thump s me to sleep.