Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
“We need to breach soon.”
Seamus fidgets with his gun, a sign that he is anxious. We all are. None of us knows how this is going to play out, but we do know one thing. We’ll get Bailey back or die trying.
“How is it that you have people on the inside?” my father asks Eriksen as he straps on his Kevlar.
“Not me,” the large Nordic man booms. “Vixens.”
“I thought they all died the night of the massacre.”
“There were a few who survived. They were barely alive when we got to them,” he admits with a shrug. “It took nearly two years for them to fully recover and be able to leave my compound safely.”
“And now they what? Go undercover as whores to take down trafficking rings?” I ask.
The bearded man nods. “Well, not them. They could never pass as workers. Not with their injuries,” he points out.
“Most are the children of the original Vixens or women Elizabeth and her people saved. After her death, they wanted to honor her. They’ve slowly been dismantling the underground brothels for all these years. ”
“How long have they been undercover here?”
Eriksen scrunches his nose. “Too long.”
“Did you know?” Seamus asks from beside me. “About Lina and Sarah?”
He shakes his head sadly. “I’d known that Lina was up to something.
She’d always been a social climber, even in the club.
She was always clinging to me. Making snide comments about Elizabeth.
I should have suspected something back then.
Elizabeth had voiced her concerns about her, but…
well… she was a club favorite. I can’t believe I was so blind. ”
“They had it planned all along,” my father tells him. “Crowe put everything into motion a long time ago. From the looks of it, he spent a pretty penny to make sure no one recognized Lina as Marilina.”
Eriksen’s throat bobs. “I never once thought Lina would betray me.”
“That isn’t an excuse,” I bite out. “You knew she was a social climber. You were so focused on doing everything Crowe ordered that you didn’t bother to look around and see what was right under your nose.”
“And there is nothing I regret more than that,” he promises. “Trust me. And I’ll spend a lifetime making up for my mistakes. As will you.”
“You can count on that,” Seamus and I vow.
Eriksen smiles. “I’m glad she found you two. Even if it is a little… unconventional.”
“Should be our new family motto,” my father mutters beneath his breath, and we laugh.
“Everyone in position?” Vas, my sister’s right-hand man and former Sovietnik to her husband, asks over the comms. In the wake of her husband’s death, she’s taken on the mantle of Pahkan.
“All set,” I respond. “Make sure my sister stays safe.”
Vas snorts. “I think you should be more worried about the people who cross her by hurting her new friend.”
“Send pictures,” my father jokes. “We breach on two.”
“One,” Seamus starts.
“Two,” I snarl. The wood around the doorknob splinters as the bullet from my gun shatters the lock. Seamus kicks the door open, stepping aside to let our father and Eriksen take the lead. Just as we step inside, the power alarms blare and the power cuts out.
Right on time.
We pull down our night-vision goggles and advance. Shots ring out as our backup makes progress through the rear door. I fire two shots into the chest of one of the guards. He falls, and two more take his place.
Shit.
I duck behind a ratty sofa as shots rain down on me.
Keeping crouched, I peek up from behind the sofa, ducking down again when they spot me and fire.
But now I have their position. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and point my gun through the back of the couch.
Failure isn’t an option. I have to get to Bailey.
There is so much I need to say. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing.
Two shots through the dilapidated piece of shit furniture and they’re down.
One man screams as Eriksen dives from his hiding spot and sticks his knife directly through his throat.
“Fucking traitor,” he hisses. That is one rat down in his organization. How many more are there?
“Clear!” my father hollers from another room.
“Clear!” Eriksen echoes.
Cautiously, I stand, peering at the wreckage around me. There have been fewer guards than I thought.
“Clear,” Seamus and I holler at the same time.
“This way.” Eriksen points to a large wooden door that looks like it leads to a basement. I disengage the outside lock and knock three times in a row. Our code to let the girls know it is clear. That we are friendly.
Then we wait with bated breath, hoping that everything went as planned. There had been no way for us to breach the fortified basement, and even if we could, it would be too easy for the men down there to take them hostage. This way, we have the element of surprise.
One of Eriksen’s men moves toward the door, a pair of heavy iron mechanical claws in his grasp. He places them between the heavy metal door and the wall, and a few moments later, the lock on the door busts open.
My heart stops as the door swings open and Bailey appears. Her hair is a wet, tangled mess; her face and body are bruised, but she is beautiful.
“Fucking hell,” I growl, removing the jacket I wear over my Kevlar and stepping toward her to place it around her shoulders. “Whoever saw you in that better be fucking dead.”
“Oh, he’s dead.” One of the women cackles behind Bailey, her Russian accent thick. “Very, very dead.”
“Good,” I whisper as I reach for her face. “I am so sorry, a stóre—”
The crack of flesh meeting flesh echoes through the room.
My head jerks to the side.
Bailey’s palm still hangs in the air between us, her chest heaving, blue eyes blazing with fury and grief. Before I can react, she pivots and slaps Seamus just as hard across the face.
“Fuck you,” she chokes out, voice trembling. “Fuck both of you.”
No one moves.
Even the women behind her fall silent.
She shoves at my chest with both hands, then Seamus’s, wildcat claws finally bared. There isn’t enough strength behind it to do damage, but there is enough pain in it to cut deep.
“You left me there,” she cries. “You let them have me. You let them hurt me.”
Every word lands like a bullet.
“You promised,” she sobs. “You promised you wouldn’t let them take me. You lied. You’re both liars.” Her voice cracks.
My throat tightens as I stare at the bruises mottling her skin, at the split in her lip, at the trembling fury barely holding her upright. There is nothing I can say that will undo any of it.
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “We failed you.”
Seamus scrubs a hand down his jaw where she struck him, eyes bright with something dangerously close to tears. “And I’ll hate myself for it until my dying day, wildcat.”
Her chin wobbles. The rage drains as quickly as it came, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. She sways where she stands, shoulders curling inward beneath the jacket.
“I wanted to hate you,” she whispers. “Every second I was in there, I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t…”
I step closer slowly, giving her every chance to strike me again, to run, to scream. Instead, she just stands there shaking.
“I know,” I murmur. “You have every right to.”
Her crystalline gaze lifts to mine, clouded with tears that finally spill over.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, voice rougher than I intend.
Bailey shakes her head once, then winces at the motion. “Just some bruises,” she whispers. “I’m okay.”
The lie guts me.
“Come here, a stóre.”
I open my arms but do not touch her. I wait.
For one endless second, she does nothing. Then her face crumples, and she stumbles forward like her body can no longer carry the weight of what she has endured.
I catch her against my chest. She goes rigid at first, every muscle locked tight, but when Seamus steps in behind her and lays a careful hand on her back, she breaks.
A sob tears from her throat. Then another.
“We’re sorry, wildcat,” Seamus murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “None of this was ever supposed to happen.”
I hold her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head as she cries between us.
“We have so much to talk about,” I whisper into her hair. “But not now.”
Now, we just hold her.
And we’ll never let her go again.