Chapter 32 Reid
Reid
We’ve had only twenty-four hours to prepare for the attack.
Jake and Killian McConkey are leading the charge, and the swarm of armed men surrounding Ilya’s compound work together like a well-oiled machine of destruction.
Our joined forces have breached the outer walls in one coordinated maneuver. We’re in.
My brothers and I have only one mission, and as the hellfire we’ve unleashed on Ilya breaks the stillness of the night, our path through the rubble is picked out by flashes and flame.
I sweep my gaze left and right, looking for potential threats as we enter the combat zone.
All of Ilya’s men are fair game. Even if they’re not guilty of touching Quinn, they’re guilty of other unspeakable crimes. I want to kill them all.
“Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing. And don’t worry about us,” Ash says, one step behind me. “We’ve got your back.”
“Quinn’s signal is coming from in there,” Mace says, pointing to a two-story house.
I’m relieved that Quinn isn’t in the elongated building next to it. The layout looks similar to the stable block in Poulton Springs, so I presume it’s where the holding cells will be. The main difference in the two sites is the stucco cladding used here to blend in with the landscape.
The Russian’s compound is on the edges of the desert. Not too isolated for anyone to question their activity, but far enough away from densely populated areas where John McConkey would notice the Russian’s presence. And this is right in the middle of John’s territory.
Unfortunately for Ilya, his gamble that John no longer had the appetite for war hasn’t paid off. The mafia boss is eager to send a message to the Barkovs that he’s still a force to be reckoned with, and we’re right in the center of the storm he’s kicking up.
Hunter spins towards a shadow moving towards us. Gunfire sparks and a man is knocked back by the force of a bullet. He doesn’t get up again. “Keep moving,” he says.
There are lights coming from the house. Some windows are blocked by shutters, and all of them are protected with bars. I see movement on the upper floor, and my heart stills.
“Quinn!” I yell, already breaking into a run. I keep my eyes on her for as long as I dare, but I have to get in there. I will see her again.
An advance party of McConkey’s men have already reached the house, and when they break down the front door, I’m right behind them as we go in. The sound of gunfire is deafening, and when I see the barrel of a rifle swinging towards me, I take aim and fire.
I always thought I’d need a moment to acknowledge my first kill, but the loss of this particular life doesn’t give me pause. I step over the body, and move deeper into the house. I seek out more targets and ignore the spurts of blood as more lives are extinguished at my hand.
The house is a warren of corridors, and the route to the stairs isn’t obvious. McConkey’s men are following their own objectives, and they leave me to find Quinn. But I’m not alone. As I enter a long corridor, my brothers are right behind me.
I’m about to round a corner when Ash pulls me to a stop. He uses hand gestures to point out moving shadows ahead. I press against the wall, my rifle pointed to where someone’s lying in wait.
Beyond the corridor is an ante space where the overhead light casts geometric lines. The silhouette of a handrail flickers as someone out of sight climbs to the upper floor. Whoever it is, they’re getting too close to Quinn. Fuck this, I haven’t got time to play with shadows.
As I straighten, I hand Mace my rifle and ignore his glare. I take my Glock from my holster and the knife strapped to my thigh. The knife flies through the air, and as it hits the wall opposite, I take the corner fast.
Mikhail’s waiting for me. He hasn’t fallen for the diversion, but he is expecting me to stop and take aim.
I don’t. I plough straight into him, and his shot hisses past my ear.
I match the Russian’s height, but not his bulk, and although he stumbles back, he doesn’t go down, not until I shoot out his kneecap.
Mikhail prepares to fire as he goes down, but I aim for his hand next. He loses fingers as well as his gun.
I could put a bullet in his head right now and be done with it, but the last time I saw him was when he had Quinn in a chokehold. I don’t know what else he did to her, but I want him to know this is our reckoning before he dies.
As I stand over him, three red laser dots appear on his forehead from my brothers’ rifles, but this kill is mine. “You’ll never touch her again,” I say. “You’ll never touch any woman again.”
I know the bastard is about to grin, or utter some final remark that might haunt me in the future, so I don’t give him the chance. I shoot him between the eyes at point blank range. And the only thing I feel is a hand on my shoulder.
“Let’s get her,” Ash says.
The upper floor has more corridors and more choices, but Mace directs us using the tracker signal. Shots echo throughout the upper level. The invading task force is up here too, clearing rooms, and as we round a corner, one of McConkey’s men is aiming his weapon at a locked door.
“Wait!” Mace says in a low hiss. “We’ll take this one.”
Killian has instructed his men not to interfere with us. The gunman backs away with a nod, then goes in search of another target.
As we crowd on either side of the door, Ash aims at the lock, which means someone else is going in first. “Hunter’s the best shot,” he whispers, but he leaves the choice to me.
While I agree that Hunter has the superior ability, he’s not going to react to Quinn’s safety in the same way I will. I’m not sure if that’s necessarily a bad thing, but if this goes wrong, it has to be on me.
“I want to take it,” I say.
There’s no argument, and no time to prepare.
Ash shoots the lock and I’m the one kicking the door open.
As I stride into the room, I quickly find my target.
Ilya is standing on the far side of the bed, his forearm pressed against Quinn’s throat as he holds her tight against him. He has a gun to her head.
The room’s been trashed, but Quinn appears to be unscathed in a loose t-shirt and grey jog pants.
One hand claws at Ilya’s arm as she fights for breath, and the other is pressed protectively over her stomach.
I don’t dare meet her gaze. I have to keep my eyes on Ilya, but he’s looking to my left where Ash has just appeared.
My brother raises his rifle and a red dot settles on Ilya’s forehead. Two more appear a second later.
My Glock doesn’t have a sight-finder, but my aim matches my brothers’.
“It looks like we have a deal to make after all,” Ilya says to Ash.
“Not with me.”
Quinn makes a guttural gasp. If I don’t act soon, Ilya will choke the life out of her. But if I shoot, he could pull the trigger on reflex.
“You were wrong to assume John McConkey would bow out of this fight,” Ash continues. “And you’re also wrong to assume that this is my call to make. If you want to plead for your life, speak to Reid. He’s in charge.”
I can feel Quinn’s eyes boring into me, and I give in.
When our eyes meet, my heart floods with warmth that has no place in this scene of horror.
It’s as intense as any embrace could be.
I couldn’t feel closer to her now than if I were inside her.
Her gaze drags mine down to where her hand has slipped beneath her t-shirt.
Immediately, I think of the baby she’s carrying, but Quinn brings me back to the present when she produces the dagger she’s fashioned from a shard of mirror and a piece of cloth she’s using as a grip. She’s squirming under Ilya’s hold, and he doesn’t notice her bring it up slowly to chest height.
As the shard of mirror disappears into the narrow gap between her shoulder and Ilya’s arm, Ilya remains oblivious. His face has turned into a snarl as he’s forced to address me. “You want to plead for this whore’s life?”
“I can only save Quinn if she’s ready to be saved,” I say. I glance at her. “Are you ready, Viper?”
She blinks her red and swollen eyes once. Despite the hell she’s been through, she’s ready.
My trigger finger tenses as Quinn positions her dagger. She’s going to slash Ilya’s wrist. It’s not the hand gripping the gun, but the cut will distract Ilya for the fraction of a second I need to take the shot. It’s not much of a window, but she’s committed to the move, and so must I.
There’s a glint of reflected light as she draws the sharp edge of her dagger hard against Ilya’s wrist. Blood spurts across Quinn’s face a heartbeat before I pull the trigger.
Ilya’s mouth opens on a gasp of pain from the cut, and that look of surprise is his very last expression.
The Russian’s gun slips from his hand as he drops to the floor. He takes Quinn with him, but I’m already on the move. I slide the last few feet on my knees and ricochet off Ilya’s body as I catch Quinn. My body envelops hers.
Quinn’s bloodied head drops to my shoulder. I don’t feel her chest move or the warmth of her breath on my neck.
“Tell me you’re OK,” I demand because I haven’t dared to hope since she was taken.
She releases the breath she was holding, and I feel her nod.
“Ilya’s dead,” Ash speaks into his earpiece. “And we have Quinn.”
At the sound of his voice, Quinn’s head snaps up.
Ash, Hunter and Mace have created a shield around us, rifles in hand.
Quinn’s eyes widen in terror as a thunderous roar of automatic fire assaults our ears.
She recoils backwards with a cry, her arms covering her head to defend herself – from my brothers.
“Shit,” says Mace.