Chapter 9 #2
It was a short sentence, but it felt like years stolen from my life.
At least, I got to meet Matt there. That’s the only bright side.
We have been driving for an hour now, the road uneven and narrow, far from the highway and any other path that could betray our arrival.
Car lights off, the moon leads the way. It is almost midnight, and my mind deviates from the task, thinking of the angel working on my floor at this exact same second.
As much as I like knowing she is safe, the fact that she is exhausting herself by cleaning my floors and my office does not sit well with me.
Ella is delicate as a blue-blooded princess, grace and softness embodied in one beating heart.
Therefore, she should be covered in silk and diamonds, directing her energy toward tasks that enlighten her soul.
I will fix this. And she will never have to dust my office ever again.
“Almost there,” Matt states, hands on the wheel as I look at the radar on the computer across my lap. Green lines give us the perimeter of the Vodianov facility, along with the possible locations of cameras and men detected by thermal imaging.
I spared no expense on this side of the business.
Making money costs money, and spying on a dynasty also requires great skill and investment.
The scent of violence permeates the cabin, and I wonder whether I will have the chance to see her before she goes home.
Somehow, her face invades every thought, holding me accountable, calling me back as if we have not had enough time yet.
There are bodies moving toward the warehouse.
Cole’s men, making rounds. Nobody is running or acting in a way that indicates they have located us.
I would preferably like this intervention to remain unseen, but things always have a way of souring.
“Vehicle approaching, sir,” Peter says behind me, his past in the army still very much alive through his stern voice and razor-sharp haircut
“Shit,” Matt mutters. “Yeah, we’ve got company.
” It takes me a second to see the new glowing red dot on our radar before the car lunges into our left side, a metallic beast crashing into us at high speed.
Damn it. How did they manage to see us? My phone rings, and the number I unfortunately memorized from his report comes to mind.
“Get the fuck out of our territory, Ashford,” Cole Vodianov barks, his voice agitated and raspy, likely the consequence of thousands of cigarettes he has smoked in his thirty years on earth.
I wait, knowing all too well this man cannot stand silence.
I suppose it is proof of his lack of ability to withstand substantial interaction, this visceral need to fill the void with nonsense.
“Stop your fucking car,” he roars through the line, his car crashing into us once again, forcing us to deviate toward the side of the road, followed by the very distinct sound of a gunshot.
“They’re hitting us,” Matt shouts, frustration boiling in his tone.
“Stop the car,” I say, loud and calm, for both Cole and Matt.
Two more gunshots burst against the outside, aiming right at my door.
We stopped driving, and I can hear the weight of silence louder than ever between gunshots.
Thank God for armored vehicles. Two meters separate our cars. Voices, doors opening, steps.
“Get outside, you fuck,” Cole challenges behind the door, and I am sure there is a loaded Glock 27 in his hand, waiting for me to show up.
“So eager? I thought girls needed to act nonchalant,” I say without an ounce of humor. Shouting erupts outside the car, followed by the roar of his agitated, excited voice.
“I’m waiting for your fucking face to show up, you fucking…”
“Red looks good on you, Cole,” I say calmly before opening my door, nodding at Matt for him to back me up as he positions himself behind me.
Nine other cars have stopped, creating a perfect arch around Cole’s vehicle.
The angry bunny is trapped in front of ten wolves and still believes he has a chance.
I count quickly. Six dots, moving slowly over his chest, courtesy of my trained veteran snipers.
He should have had more security. He should have known better.
“The fuck…” Cole looks down at his chest, stepping back, one hand on himself, the gun in the other. He lifts it in my direction, his hand wavering.
“Good evening, Cole,” I announce, walking nonchalantly, flicking a speck of dust from my shoulder as his two made men gather beside him, the other red dots aimed straight at their skulls.
“Do not bother yourself with that.” I shrug, gesturing toward his gun. “It would not end well for you.” A growl hisses through his teeth.
“I knew I could smell you from miles away. I knew you couldn’t help yourself and come steal my hard work.” He spits on the dusty ground.