Chapter Forty
COOPER
Alice’s eyes fluttered open, dazed with sleep, a slow smile spreading across her face. She was reaching for me when her brain clicked online and shutters fell over her eyes. Her hand dropped to her side as her mouth drew tight.
I cupped her cheek in my palm, turning her face up to mine. “We have trouble. Maxwell is here. He's been stabbed. Tsepov may already be in the building. I don't have time to get you and Petra somewhere safe. I need you to come with me.”
Alice didn't ask questions. She pushed the covers off and rolled to her side, ready to scoop up Petra.
“I've got her. Let’s go.”
Alice followed me out of the bedroom and down the hall. When I opened the door to my makeshift safe room, she said, “I was wondering what was in here.”
“Nothing interesting, but the door would keep out a tank. I need you to stay in here until I get this sorted out.”
Her hand closed over my wrist. “Stay with us. Don’t go back out there.”
“I have to, Alice. He’s my dad.”
She slumped for a heartbeat of time, her head pressed to my chest as she shuddered against me. Before I could comfort her, Alice pulled herself together, spine straightening, lungs expanding as she drew in a fortifying breath.
“Okay. I know. I can help. I can—”
“I know you can.” I ushered Alice into the room. There wasn't any furniture, just stacked boxes and two gun safes bracketed between tall metal shelves.
“I don't have time to argue, baby. Sit down and let me give you Petra.”
Alice sat, leaning against the wall facing the door. I knelt, transferring the still-sleeping toddler from my arms to hers.
Alice watched me with wary eyes. For just a second, I was tempted to stay there with her, to lock the door and let my father deal with Andrei Tsepov on his own.
To forget the world and tell Alice everything in my heart.
There were so many reasons I couldn't do that. I couldn't leave Tsepov to my father. It wasn’t just that I didn’t trust Maxwell to do the job right. Tsepov would kill him and then come after us.
Time with Alice was all I wanted.
In that moment, it was the one thing I didn't have.
Turning my back on her was like cutting out a part of my soul, but I had to get back to Maxwell. I ransacked the gun safe and the shelves. A bulletproof vest for me. Another for Maxwell. Extra clips for my Walther. A weapon for my father.
I strapped a knife to my ankle, a backup weapon on the other side.
Taking the time to drop a brief kiss on Alice's mouth, I said, “Don't come out for anyone. Not until I get back.”
Stopping in the doorway for a second I didn't have, I couldn't resist adding, “I love you, Alice. Stay safe.”
The surprised flare of her eyes struck me right in the heart. I held it close as I locked the door, securing Alice and Petra behind four inches of steel.
When I returned, Maxwell was leaning against the island in the kitchen, feet steady, his face ashen. He was bleeding internally from the stab wound, but there wasn't much I could do about that until he got to the hospital.
“How close is he? Where did they get you?”
“Two blocks east. I don't know how far behind them Andrei was, but I'm guessing not far.”
My phone rang, and I stabbed a finger at the screen, putting Griffen on speakerphone. “Status.”
“Incoming. All over the fucking place.” His words were breathless, loud and then distant as if he was running while holding the phone.
“Everyone stationed on the perimeter is down. I have two of Tsepov’s men on the cameras in the garage, headed for the elevator.
Another in the stairwell. The two who got in from the street entrance are on their way up to you.
I can't tell what they're carrying, but it's big, Cooper.
Stay away from the fucking door. If it weren't for Alice and Petra I’d tell you to leave Maxwell and get the fuck out. I'm on my way.”
Griffen disconnected. I tossed the bulletproof vest at Maxwell. It wasn't great protection, but it was better than nothing. He managed to get it on, wincing as the movement pulled at the open wound in his stomach.
The FBI was on the way. Tsepov's men incoming. Nothing to do but wait until someone made a move.
We didn't have to wait long. Griffen had been right, Tsepov's men were carrying something big. A fucking acetylene torch. They'd used the same thing at Knox's house. Andrei’s boys liked their toys. I could only hope this crew was as badly trained as the ones who’d gone after Knox in Maine.
At the spark of the torch, Maxwell and I ducked, using the kitchen island as a shield.
I couldn’t let them get past the kitchen.
If they did, it would take time for that torch to breach my safe room door, but eventually, it would.
If they took us down they’d have all the time they needed to get to Alice and Petra.
The torch cut through the steel of my door in minutes. It slammed open, Tsepov’s goons pouring through in a hail of gunfire, every bullet aimed straight ahead. They never looked to the side, never saw us crouching in the kitchen.
I raised my weapon. One shot from me, one from my father, and the first two dropped.
Too bad the guys after them weren't as stupid.
The clink of metal and a dark cylinder rolled across the floor. I dove for the back of the kitchen, expecting a flash-bang grenade. No sound, no light, but smoke filled the room, leaving me blind.
My father hadn’t been able to dodge with that knife wound in his gut. I thought I heard the rasp of his breathing beneath the pound of feet filling the room. I hoped I heard it.
The sound of footsteps died away. So much for stopping them here. I had no idea how many were inside or where that fucking torch was.
At the end of the island, through the haze of smoke, my father struggled to his feet, weapon in his right hand, held loosely behind his back.
A figure emerged through the smoke, tall and slender, elegant in a dark suit. Andrei Tsepov. He stood in the foyer flanked by two goons carrying AR-15’s, surveying the smoky chaos with the arrogance of a king.
Fuck. I didn’t want to see those AR-15’s
The lightweight semi-automatic rifles were overkill in these close quarters. Overkill and deadly as hell. Our protective equipment was the best available outside of the military, but it couldn’t stop a bullet from an AR-15.
If I did nothing else, I had to take down those two men.
Andrei stopped less than ten feet from my father. In his cultured, lightly accented voice, he said, “Maxwell. You think to betray me to your FBI? I never would've guessed you'd be so foolish.”
Dismissing Maxwell with a lift of his chin, he called to the men I couldn’t see through the smoke, “Search the place. Bring anyone you find to me.”
At least he hadn't told them to shoot on sight. I'd take whatever favors I could get.
Moving in a low crouch, weapon raised, I made my way around the kitchen island, staying out of sight.
The island wouldn’t protect me from the AR-15’s any more than my vest would, but right now all eyes were on Maxwell.
The further I got from him, the better. I couldn’t fire if I was caught in the crossfire.
“I fucked up,” my father said, bracing his free hand on the counter.
“You certainly did,” Andrei agreed. “Too many times, Maxwell. You stole from me. First the girl, then my money.”
“I can make it right, Andrei. Take your men and leave. I’ll come with you. Give you back the money. Give you more. As soon as we’re out of here. But we have to go. Now.”
What the fuck was Maxwell talking about? The FBI was on the way. We had to stall, not get rid of Tsepov and his men. Maxwell didn’t want to go to jail, but at this point, Agent Holley was his best bet.
I had no doubt that if he gave Andrei the money Maxwell wouldn’t live a moment longer than it took to transfer the funds.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Andrei Tsepov wasn’t buying my father’s promises.
“You think I’m that stupid, Maxwell? If you were going to give me back my money, you would have offered it when I killed the whore.”
“She wasn’t a whore,” Maxwell ground out.
Andrei’s flat, cold eyes betrayed nothing as he raised his hand and fired a single bullet. Maxwell staggered, the arm he’d braced on the counter folding as he tilted sideways.
My finger itched to squeeze the trigger of my own weapon. It took everything I had to hold my fire. I couldn’t take out both of the men with AR-15’s, and my first shot would give away my position. My father might let anger drive him into a deadly mistake.
I wouldn’t do the same. I couldn’t. Alice and Petra were depending on me.
“I assume you mean Mila,” Andrei continued conversationally as if he hadn’t just put a bullet in Maxwell’s arm.
“She was a whore. Born and bred. First, she was mine. Then she was yours. Even in your hands, she remained my property. Which, as we both know, makes your pretty little girl my property as well.”
I clamped my teeth together to hold back the growl. Petra. He wasn’t just here for Maxwell, the sick fucker was here for Petra. She wasn’t fucking property. She was a child. A human being.
Petra was my baby sister. Mine to protect. To keep safe. I’d die before I let Andrei Tsepov lay eyes on her, much less take her away from us.
Never in my life had I genuinely wanted to end a life. Not until that moment. Andrei Tsepov deserved death. I wanted to be the one to deliver it.
It didn’t matter. Petra and Alice’s safety came first. There was still a chance to get out of this, but it had to be done right. One mistake and we’d all be dead.