14. Alek
ALEK
I’ve lost track of time. I’ve been in bed with Mia all night, all day, claiming her body with mine. We’ve done nothing except fuck, laugh, eat food, then go right back to her sliding my cock inside her.
She’s taking a well-earned nap on my chest. I run my fingers through her soft hair, kissing the top of her head. Her breathing is soft and even, her cheek pressed against the middle of my chest while her hand is lying on my stomach.
Rain still continues to pour outside with light rumbles of thunder every so often. The TV is on low and plays a show I’ve never seen, the light flashing bright enough to keep me awake.
Not that I could sleep anyway. My mind is racing with what ifs and trying to plan a future with Mia. There’s a piece of me that feels like having any sort of future with her is impossible. There are so many obstacles in the way, so many unknowns, so many dangers, and yet, I’ll never let her go.
She’s mine and I’ll kill everyone in this world if it means she stays by my side.
I snag the remote from the nightstand and press the button that takes me to the security feed. I promised her that we would burn her wedding dress and I need to make sure that the spots I’m thinking of are safe.
The large flat screens splits into four sections, giving me a few seconds of each corner outside before switching to another angle.
The porch is clear. The back deck is clear. Every flash of a new area has no issue.
Until we get to her car.
I gently slide her off my chest, kissing her cheek, and tugging the blanket to her chest. She mumbles something incoherent, then rolls over, giving me her back.
All mine.
I give my attention to the screen, scooting forward to get a better, and wait for the shadow to appear again.
Bolting to my feet when two men peer into her car, I don’t wait to see what they’ll do. I open my nightstand drawer, pulling out my gun. I don’t want to scare Mia, but I’m going to have to.
I turn to look at the screen again and they aren’t by the car. “Come on. Where are you?” I say to the screen in Russian.
They appear going around the back of the house, pointing guns as they survey the property.
I only have a few minutes before they are inside. And they will get inside.
They always do.
I don’t know who these men are. I don’t notice them. Ivan must have contracted them out to look for Mia.
“Mia.” I shake her awake. “Mia. Wake up. We have unexpected company.”
She blinks her eyes open, confused. “Alek? What are you doing awake? Come back to bed.”
“I think Ivan sent people. I need you to follow me now and stay quiet, okay?”
All of the sleepiness fades and she sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest. The color leaves her face, fear shining in her brown eyes.
“He’s here? He found me?”
I cup her face. “No. He isn’t here. Two men are. They’re circling the house. I need you to come with me to the panic room, okay? You’ll be safe there.”
She shakes her head, tears spilling to the tops of her cheeks. “No. Not without you.” Her fingers tighten around my wrist, clenching onto me for dear life. “Please. I can’t risk you. I can’t. Come with me.”
I check the TV, noticing they have paused outside of the basement window.
“I have to take care of them so I can send their bodies back to Ivan as a warning. I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time.” I cock the gun, loving the sound a bullet makes sliding into place. “And it won’t be the last. Come on. We don’t have much time.”
She nods, wrapping the sheets around her. There’s no time to get dressed. I take her hand in mine, dragging her to the closet.
“I’m not hiding in a closet! That’s the first place—”
“My love, I have panic rooms in every part of this house.”
Glass shatters and I rush to the TV to see where they are.
One man is slipping through the window while the other waits for his turn.
“Okay. Enough fucking around.” I run to the closet, swinging the door open.
Clothes I never really wear here hang to block the hidden room. I press my hand against the wall, the built-in scanner reading my palm. The door slides open, revealing a room made of mostly steel.
There’s no chance anyone will get in this room. The lights turn on, showing two bunkbeds to the side, a bathroom to the right, clothes, and bins full of nonperishable foods.
She’ll be safe here.
Pressing my hand on her back, I shove her inside. She stumbles forward, catching herself on bedpost. Mia spins around, her knuckles white from clutching the sheets so tight.
“Come back to me.”
I press the button to the door, and it slides closed. “I promise,” I say before it shuts her in, keeping her safe until I can deal with the threat.
I step back, swallowing the emotion in my throat, my eyes burning with the slight fear that I might not be able to pull her out of that room.
That isn’t an option. She’s mine to protect.
And I’ll protect her until death.
I inch my way out of the closet, eyeing my clothes to see if they look out of place. There’s no way anyone can get in that panic room. Nikolai will fill her. She’ll be okay.
Pressing my back against the wall, I hold the gun up, peering at the TV to see where the intruders are. The two men aren’t masked which means they’re coming to kill or abduct. Still, abducting with no mask doesn’t promise life either.
They’re coming up the basement steps, slow, making no noise. Whoever Ivan hired, they are good, but I know better. They’re messy. Breaking a window? That creates so much noise. I have the advantage knowing where they are.
A silent alarm has been tripped because of the window. Nikolai will be alerted, and he will be on his way. No police. Only my second in command. He’ll help me with the bodies.
I hurry down the staircase to the living room, not waiting for them to find me. I’m going to them.
No one threatens Mia and lives to get away with it.
I don’t give a fuck who it is.
Standing in the hallway between the kitchen and basement door, I lift the gun and aim it. The doorknob turns. The hinges groan.
Right when I can see the first stranger, I pull the trigger. I’m not waiting for answers. Waiting is what gets people killed and I don’t plan to die.
The bullet lands in the middle of his forehead, his neck snapping back. Blood sprays from the wound and paints my walls, fucking ruining them.
I’ll have to paint over that.
The body crashes onto the staircase and the second man, presses his back against the wall. We both watch the dead man rolling down each step with a hard thud. His face smacks first against the cold concrete floor, the majority of his body lying on the stairwell.
His friend looks down at him, then up at me, a thick scar running through his eyebrow. His right eye if half hooded from the injury. He lifts his gun and I lunge forward, smacking his hand with mine. Both of our weapons go flying, bullets peppering the wall, coating us in dust.
He tackles me to the floor, and we slide past the fridge. Having to be quick before he gets a hit in, I grip the edge of the refrigerator door, swing it open with all my strength, and smack him in the back of the head.
Once.
Twice.
A dent shows in the stainless steel. It weakens him enough for me to get the upper hand. I slam my forehead against the bridge of his nose, blood gushing down his lips.
Rolling him to his back, I raise my fist to punch him, but he slams his palm against my sternum. It knocks the birth out of me. A burning pain spreads across my chest, and I can’t breathe. My hands naturally grip my chest, hoping it helps in some way.
I gasp, in and out, and this fucking guy takes the opportunity to get the upper hand. He shoves me off him, lifts his leg, and kicks me in the stomach.
I’m on the floor, coughing, spit dripping from my mouth.
He grabs me by the back of the neck, ramming my head into the wall. I grab the lamp, twist it around, and smash it against the side of his face. Small cuts appear across his cheeks, blood dripping down his face, shards of the light bulb stick out from his flesh.
“Let me have her and I won’t kill you,” he says, rubbing the blood off his lip with the back of his hand.
“Not a fucking chance. You’ll never get close enough. You’ll never find her.”
“She’s here in this house, da?”
“I don’t know. Is she? Isn’t that your job to know?” I provoke him, wanting him to make the first move. “Or are you too fucking stupid to do the job my son paid you to do?”
He sneers, his arm rising, his hand clenching into a fist. It soars through the air, and I duck left, his knuckles slamming against wall. The trained assassin cries out when bones crunch audibly. He grips his hand and I bend my arm, using my elbow to slam against his jaw as hard as I possibly can.
Another bone cracks when he turns to look at me. His jaw hangs. He roars, charging at me, and push me onto the dining room table. I roll off, grab a chair, spin to gain momentum, and swing the chair.
It hits the broken side of his jaw and he collapses, his head smacking against the table, falling unconscious to the floor.
I limp to the stairwell, grab my gun lying on one of the steps, pull the hammer back, then limp over to him again.
He groans, trying to push himself up to his feet, but he’s too weak. Slinging him up by his jacket, he leans against the table trying to catch his breath.
“Give me your phone.” I press the barrel between his eyes.
Sweat drips down his face, blood stains his skin, the glass from the lamp still protrudes out of his cheeks, and yet he obeys without question. He knows who is really in charge and it’s such a shame now because no one can save him.
I swipe the camera up, swipe to the video option, then set the phone down on the coffee table against the wall across from us. I lean it against a picture, tap the button to have the front camera facing me.
“Hi Son,” I sneer. “I have your hired help here.” I walk towards the man who would have taken my Mia away from me, snag him by his hair, and drag him closer to the phone.
“I would go get your other friend, but he’s dead on my basement floor, and this one,” I hiss, “I don’t think he’s going to last much longer. ”
His face is swollen from his broken jaw, spit dribbling down his chin.
“It’s pathetic, really. That you think you’d have a hand over me.” I lean forward, pressing the gun into the guy’s mouth. “If you want war, you have it, because Ivan,” I lean in so he can get a good look at my face. “You will never have Mia again. I know what you’ve done.”
I step away, bringing my next kill with me. Snagging him by the roots of his hair again, I drag him back to get both of us in the frame.
“She’s mine, Ivan. And you don’t run the Bykovs. You are not and will never be in charge. You’ve been stripped of your title.” I pull the trigger, brain matter splattering on my floor and fucking couch.
I’ll have to replace it.
“Keep trying and this will be you, Ivan. I’m warning you and this is the only warning you will get.” I snag the phone to stop the recording and put it in my victim’s pocket.
I try to catch my breath, twist my neck left and right for it to crack, and march to the office. With bloody knuckles, I rip out the drawer and blank computer paper flies everywhere.
Picking a piece, I slam it on the table leaving bloody fingerprints all over the edges. Snagging a marker, I take the top off with my teeth, spitting the cap onto the floor.
I write a message in messy, fast handwriting.
“Consider this a warning,” I write.
Meaning, the next dead body could be his if he doesn’t behave.
I toss the marker on the floor and head out of the office, doubling back to grab the stapler.
With rage and vengeance in every step, I march my way to the dead body.
“Don’t even think for one minute your safe even in death,” I mumble, slapping the piece of paper on his chest.
I spit on his body, hating he has ruined the peace I had with Mia. Bending down, I staple the paper his body, wishing I had thought to do this when he was alive. It would have been a wonderful torture technique.
Maybe I’ll do that the next time someone dares to take my Mia away from me.
The burner phone that Nikolai gave me rings from upstairs by the bed. I drop the stapler, forgetting about the dead body in my basement.
I race up the steps, taking them three at a time, my hands aching every time I grab the railing. I have too much momentum and slam into the open door, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.
One the next ring, I answer it with a less than welcoming greeting.
“Where the fuck are you, Nikolai?” I snarl, wiping the sweat from my eyes.
“Half an hour out. I’m getting there as fast as I can. I have the contract too. I’ll be there soon. Don’t move the bodies.”
“I want them delivered to Ivan immediately. They were Russian. It had to be Ivan.”
“It was. He doesn’t plan on stopping either. He will get Mia. Even if it means killing you.”
“He can try. He won’t succeed.” I hang up the phone and toss it on the bed.
“Mia!” I shout her name, swinging the closet door open to get to her. I rip the pole down that has all the clothes hanging on it to get them out of my way. Pressing my hand against the wall, it finally slides open.
When the space is big enough for me to slip through, I do, not waiting one more second to get to Mia.
She’s sitting in the chair, staring at the dozen screens I have mounted on the wall.
Fuck.
She’s seen everything.
Is she going to hate me now?