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At the docks I ditch my bike and move on foot toward the location pin on my phone. My gun in my free hand. I’m almost to the ship when Blake Baron steps out of the shadows and motions me to him. Movement catches my eye behind him. Roman De Luca and Cian O’Rourke are with him. I guess that’s who he meant by we.
“Their engines are warming up,” Baron says in a hushed tone. “They’re readying to leave port soon. We need to sneak on board. The element of surprise can work in our favor as long as we’re quiet. Put away that gun.”
I scowl at him, but do as I’m told. He’s right. Our best option is to storm the ship as quickly and quietly as possible.
Maks jogs up with ten men at his back. We briefly go over the plan from our hiding place between two walls of containers. The light’s growing fainter by the minute as snow flurries begin to fall. Dense white flecks quickly hinder our line of sight. We need to get on that ship, now.
Stealthily we creep toward the cargo ship. The towering bridge sits in the middle surrounded by colorful cargo containers. On the side of the hull, we climb the narrow steel ladders and emerge onto a perimeter walkway.
The ship groans and gradually moves forward on its way out of port.
Roman clasps my shoulder. “Don’t worry, this ship’s not going far. Port authorities are going to be all over this once I signal them. Let’s find your girl.”
I nod, grateful for his influence over the docks. He’s basically the king of the shipping business up and down the East Coast.
We make our way to the stairs that lead to the crews private quarters. I’m sure Konstantin paid off the captain to allow him, his men, and their cargo onboard. If we’ll find them anywhere it’ll be in the passenger cabins. Hopefully Arianna’s with them.
On silent footsteps we advance along the hallway. A door opens and a Russian steps out. I recognize him as one of Konstantin’s men. Before the door closes, I catch snippets of conversation in my native tongue. My fist strikes with his throat. His eyes bulge, but not a sound escapes. Another jab and he slides to the floor. I step over him, encouraged, knowing that we’ve found them.
When I step into the room, seven Russians turn their heads my way, guns in hand. My gaze latches onto Konstantin. But Arianna is nowhere to be seen.
My fingers ball into fists and flex. “Where the fuck is my wife?”
CHAPTER 46
Dimitri
Konstantin’s grin is so smug it makes my teeth clench. “That Italian whore is currently getting her fill of Boris. He couldn’t wait to get his dick wet. I’m sure you know how much he likes a nice piece of Italian ass.”
All I see is red as I stare down the guns trained on me. After I kill each and every one of them, I’m going to skin Boris alive.
Konstantin stands, coming to eye level with me, radiating confident dominance. Not that long ago I would have backed down, feeling small in his presence. Unable to shake the cowering child version of myself, and the past trauma. But the past stays where it belongs this time, and I face this monster as a grown man. One who will do anything to rescue his wife.
Anything at all.
I stare back at him. We have him outnumbered and cornered. This confrontation is nearly at its end. All I need them to do is lower their weapons.
“Tell me where to find my wife.” Command booms in my voice. Konstantin’s eye twitches as if he’s not used to being spoken to in such a tone.
“Be a good boy and tell your friends to leave. This is over. I have your ex-wife and now I have you as well.” He spreads his arms wide. “Don’t you see I’ve won?”
I snort. “So this is a trap set up to catch me?”
“Of course. I knew you’d come for that Italian slut, though I don’t understand why. She’s nothing.”
She’s everything, but I’m not going to tell him that and give him any more power over me.
“You’re wrong. You’re the one who’s nothing.” I spit on the floor. “Go fuck yourself.”
Crimson rage travels up his neck, across his face, and into his hairline. “Don’t you dare use that tone with me, boy. You ungrateful wretch. One day you’ll understand what I’ve done for this family. When we can come out of hiding, openly reclaim our true surname, and once again sit on the Russian throne, then you’ll thank me.”
What the fuck is he talking about? The man’s psychotic.
“I don’t give a shit about your delusional schemes. You’re nothing but a crazy old man.”
“What did I tell you about showing respect, boy?” He lurches toward me, his fists swinging.
I pull the brass knuckles from my pocket and punch him square in the face. He stumbles back. The shock written across his features is almost comical.
