CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MATHIAS
“This bastard deserves what’s coming to him,” Luca mutters, checking his watch for the third time. Petit and his cronies are late, and it’s pissing us off.
“Sir,” Nathaniel, the head of our security detail for the meeting, approaches with a tablet. “We have confirmation that Petit is here and in the elevator, but there’s been a development.” He turns the tablet my way to reveal Petit, a contingent of bodyguards, and a familiar woman in the middle of them, leaning heavily on one guard.
“What the fuck? How the hell did he get Allison?”
“Shit!” Luca bangs his fist against the table as Jonah straightens in his seat.
“Looks like two men drugged her guards’ breakfast and knocked on her door. She opened it without issue, which is when they injected a paralytic.”
The screen switches to play a video from the hotel’s security camera aimed at the suite we share. Two men in black. Allie opening the door without hesitation. The hired thugs barging through to shove a needle in her neck.
When she’s safe in my arms again, I’m going to redden her ass for not checking the peephole… again. Just like our first meeting at her apartment.
I turn away from the video.
I can’t watch any more or the calm demeanor I need to deal with Petit and save Allison will be completely unreachable.
Fuck, fuck, fuck .
My renowned composure has never been more necessary, yet I feel it cracking with each second Allie’s not safe in my arms.
The ding of the elevator rings through the air, signaling Petit’s arrival. Forcing a nonchalant, stony facade, I nod and wave Nathaniel back.
This cordial meeting is about to get a whole lot bloodier. Good thing we cleared the building in preparation for today. We didn’t want civilian employees caught in potential crossfire, and I’m glad I did one thing right today.
Because I failed to protect Allie.
“ Bonjour , Mathias.” Petit grins as he saunters into the room with Allie in tow. God, she looks so vulnerable between those two meatheads he has manhandling her.
He thinks he has the upper hand, but it’s only a matter of time before we turn the tables on him. I just have to figure out how before Allie becomes collateral damage.
“Father,” I say smoothly. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he surprised me.
“You’ve been busy lately. Too busy to introduce your paramour, hmm?” Petit gestures to Allie. She’s groggy as one of his men roughly pushes her into a leather seat, forcing me to bite my tongue hard enough to bleed to prevent a growl of warning.
“This is a business meeting, not a social call. Should I have brought Denise or Veronica?” The mention of my father’s two mistresses causes a boom of laughter.
“Those women are a dime a dozen as you Americans would say. But this one…” He jerks Allie’s chin his way. “She matters to you, doesn’t she, son? You’ve installed her in Conrad’s old manor like a proper wife.”
“I would think you’d appreciate the ease of having a woman at your beck and call. Ms. Field’s presence suits until I find someone else who interests me,” I lie. I’m never giving Allie up, but all I can do is fake disinterest in the hope that Petit believes me.
“You’re lying.”
“And you’re boring me,” Luca interjects. He tosses several folders on the table. “These reports outline how you’ve been siphoning money for The Syndicate into various illegal avenues. Copies have been sent to Interpol, who should be on their way as we speak.”
“You think I’m going to prison?” Another bark of humor rises from Petit. It’s getting on my fucking nerves how amused he finds this.
Let him laugh.
All the way to fucking jail.
“We know you are. You’re done, Petit,” Jonah says. “With your criminal dealings exposed, The Syndicate can’t risk protecting you.”
“You boys really think you have everything figured out, don’t you? Conrad filled your heads with nonsense about revenge as if children can dismantle a century’s old establishment.”
The elevator bell rings again. “Ah, that will be Sergei. I’m sure he took care of the poor Interpol agents sent to apprehend me.”
Sergei Petrov, Dmitri and Aleksei’s father and notorious arms dealer, stepped out of the elevator with a swath of men armed to the teeth.
Goddammit! Our last bit of intel said Sergei was home in Russia. Somehow he slipped Dmitri’s surveillance.
“Louis, why am I always cleaning up your messes?” Sergei drawls with a heavy Russian accent as he studies the room. “I see my son didn’t come with you three. Too bad. I would’ve liked to see him.”
He shrugs before raising his gun and shooting the Blackthorn guard next to Nathaniel. The man’s body drops dead to the carpet, and all hell breaks loose as everyone ducks for cover while pulling out their own weapons.
I scramble to Allison’s side and pull her to the floor under the table. “Allie? Stay with me, baby. I’m getting you out of here.”
We crawl down the length of the table toward the door leading to a supply closet. Last night, Jonah and Luca cut an escape route through the side wall, and I’ve never been so glad for plotting a hundred ways how something can go wrong and finding solutions to every single contingency.
Except for Allie being captured and drugged.
My failure weighs on me, but dwelling on it now won’t do me any good. Luca and Jonah already have the closet door open, shooting decisively at Sergei and Petit’s men.
“Thank fuck for that paranoid mind of yours,” Luca shouts, pushing Jonah down as a bullet explodes in the wall where his head used to be.
“Thank me later. Let’s kill these sons of bitches and get out of here. I preferred plan B anyway.” Plan A was Interpol and going the legal route for retribution. Plan B is the ‘fuck it, let’s just kill him’ solution.
Except someone already beat me to it because my father is crumpled on the ground with blood seeping out of a hole in his forehead. Of course the fucker robbed me of my chance to finish him off.
“Damn, which one of you killed him?”
“I think it was a stray bullet. Sorry, brother. Take your girl and get out of here. We’ve got this. Nathaniel and his guys are helping us finish off who is left. Sergei already fucking left.”
“More slippery than a snake,” Jonah mutters.
Annoyance flares in my gut, but dead is dead. Petit is finally out of my life permanently. Later, maybe I'll examine how that makes me feel after decades of loathing the man. Or maybe I'll just drink a tumbler of Scotch and call it a day.
“We'll get Sergei. We'll get all of them,” I promise while covering Allie’s head and ushering her into the supply closet.
I remove the shelving unit covering the large hole cut into the drywall, and a few minutes later, we crouch and shuffle through the opening into the hallway.
“Come on, Allie. Just a little further to go.”
“I knew… you'd save… me,” she heaves, holding a hand to her stomach.
“Don't try to talk yet. You’re still fighting the drug they injected.” We hurry toward the emergency exit stairs. Our heavy breathing drowned out by the firestorm happening behind us. “Soon, you'll be safe. A doctor will check—”
“Mathias!”
Worried that a stray bullet hit her, I turn to throw my body on hers, but she’s already crashing into me amidst a gunshot blast. A grunt of pain whooshes from her lips, and immediately, I raise my weapon and kill the bastard who appeared at the end of the hall to block our escape.
The worst sort of familiarity descends as I roll over and cradle her head above the hard floor. Our positions mirror the fateful February morning when we met, and helpless rage pours through my veins.
Not again.
Why do I keep failing her?