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It’s not a large space, maybe a hundred square feet total, and most of the floor space is consumed by tables and a long desk. There’s a safe sitting under the desk, but it feels almost too obvious.
“Take the safe out and let’s bring it to the car. I’ll strip the hard drives from the computer and bring those as well,” I say, pointing to the desk.
Donovan pulls a lock pick out of his jacket, twirling it in the dim light. “I can pick it now, if you want.”
“Could be rigged,” I caution. “Better to bring it back and have our explosives team take a look at it.”
He chuckles, tucking the pick back into his pocket. “I was about to get my face blown off.”
“You might be more handsome that way,” I joke.
He curses at me in Russian, then we both laugh, pilfering through the office in search for anything that will bring us closer to knowing Dimitri’s progress with Project G. We can’t afford to miss anything.
After a few minutes of collecting hard drives and figuring out how to move the safe without sawing through the desk, we stumble out of Dimitri’s office. Donovan carries the safe in his arms and I have half a dozen hard drives, files, and a few books stacked up in my arms.
Just as we’re about to reach the end of the hallway, though, a figure steps into view.
“Hey, you’re in my house,” a scrawny man wearing nothing more than a pair of dirty boxers says.
“Crack heads,” Donovan whispers, shaking his head. “Doesn’t look like much a threat, though.”
I clear my throat, walking up to the skinny man with every intention of kicking him through the wall if he comes at me. There isn’t an ounce of sympathy in my body for him. If we were at anyone else’s house, maybe I’d take pity on him for his unfortunate circumstances, but this is Dimitri’s house. This motherfucker isn’t getting sympathy from me.
“If you don’t leave within the next five seconds, I’m going to break every bone in your frail little body,” I growl, looking down at him with pure contempt.
The man pulls his head back so hard he has to take a step to keep from falling on his ass. “Oh, shit. Are you the mafia or something?”
“Do I look like it?” I ask with a devilish grin.
He nods. “My buddy got mixed up with those folks and he got his hands cut off. Can’t even jerk off no more.”
“Well, you wouldn’t want that to happen to you, would you?”
He shakes his head, his mouth hanging open. “No sir.”
“Then get the fuck out,” I growl, raising my voice so he knows I’m not going to tell him again. He has already tested my patience enough.
“Shit, I’m gone,” he yelps, jumping toward the back door and running out into the yard.
Donovan sighs, walking up to me as I stand in the hallway, silent rage coursing through my body with every beat of my heart.
“Let’s go,” he says softly.
I grit my teeth. “Right. Let’s fucking go.”
17
Lily
“What’s in the safe?” I ask as Ivan comes through the front door with a giant metal box in his arms. It must weigh a ton, but he makes it look light as a feather.
“We’ll know when we open it,” he says, putting it down just inside the door. “But that’s a challenge for another time. Right now, we need to get you comfortable shooting a gun.”
A little jolt of adrenaline hits me at the mention of shooting. He said he wanted to do that today, but I tucked it away in the back of my head like it wasn’t actually going to happen. I’ve spent the better part of today lying in the garden, smelling flowers, and trying to make a whistle out of a blade of grass.
“Do we have to do that today?” I ask, taking a cautious step back as Ivan removes his coat. “We could see what’s in the safe first. That sounds more interesting.”
“I need to have a bomb squad look at it first, so no,” he replies. “Believe it or not, guns are a safer option this evening.”
