And don’t even get me started on what damage Sansi’s hit could have caused our baby. I just wish I could wake from this nightmare. I’d give anything to discover that the pelmeni we consumed at lunch caused my delusions, and this is all just a long, recurring nightmare.
Before my head can burrow into the sand, I shift my eyes to Trey. “If this is Vladimir, what are we walking into?”
With our SUV brimming with the footguards Trey ordered to track my every move, my question instigates a collective gasp. Vladimir’s name is never spoken by Nikolai’s men. It is as if he never existed. But my use of his name isn’t the only reason they’re gasping; it is my assumption that Vladimir is alive.
“The fact Maxsim orchestrated a takeover bid on soil not commanded by the Popov entity shows he’s scared.”
Maddox adds to Trey’s reply. “That’s why he came in hard. Even with Nikolai traveling light, he knew the odds were stacked against him.”
Trey nods, agreeing with him.
I’m not as eager to side with either of them. “That wasn’t what I asked. I want to know the repercussions if Vladimir is alive. What does it mean for Nikolai and the rules he’s forced to abide by?” My words choke at the end. “Forced” is too kind of a word to describe how Nikolai was coerced to toe to line. “Tortured” is more suitable.
Trey’s chest rises and falls three times before he shrugs. “I don’t know.”
It isn’t the answer I’m hoping for, but it is better than the theories running through my head. Vladimir believes in the rules Anatoly enforced when founding their dynasty, but only because they were created in favor of the ruler. If that man is no longer him, I have no doubt he’ll skirt them just as he has prosecution the past fifty-plus years.
Any chance for more chit-chat is lost when our SUV comes to a stop behind a dense layer of trees. Although the airstrip on our right is battered, there are signs it has been recently used, most notably: the twelve-seater front propel aircraft tucked into a hangar concealed with camouflage tarps and tree limbs. The poor condition of the plane proves the Vasilievs have fallen far from the power Alexei once commanded, but it’s more than some crews have.
My eyes drift from the plane to Trey when he updates the men. “Infrared sensors indicate there are a dozen and a half men in a room at the back of the hangar.” He points to the far right corner of the hand-drawn map he’s holding. “There are another half-dozen circling the premise. They need to be taken down first—in silence.”
Two men strapped with high-caliber weapons and face paint dip their chins before disappearing into the forest flanking our SUVs. For the direction they’re heading, I can only assume they’re going to take out the men with long-range rifles.
“The dome on the main property appears to be a bunker, but no visible signs of life have been noticed. But just in case, we’ll keep three men on the main road and another two on this little side track. We all know how fond Nikolai is of going over a mountain instead of around it, so we need to keep our minds open.”
I smile, grateful he said how fond he “is” not “was.”
“What is this?” I point to a clump of red in the middle of a green and yellow space.
Trey breathes out deeply. “From their lack of movement the past hour, we’re assuming they are hostages.”
“They? As in more than one?” Maddox asks, beating me to the punch.
Trey nods, then screws up his face. “That or someone with a large body mass.”
“Could it be Nikolai?” The hope in my voice can’t be denied.
My eyes burn when Trey replies, “How about we find out?”
I nod so hard, tears roll down my cheeks. The tension teeming from the men flanking me will quickly dry them, but just in case they don’t, I drag my hand down my face. They’re already annoyed at Trey’s request to babysit me; I don’t want to give them more reasons to hate me.
“Not a scratch, Justine,” Trey warns for the final time.
He waits for me to nod before signaling for his men to move. As we race across waist-high grass, I brace my gun high as I’ve been taught. My determination to protect myself is utterly pointless. The amount of men surrounding me means the only people at threat are the ones sworn to protect me. Even Maddox can’t see past their guard.
It’s probably for the best. The noise is nearly deafening when we reach the hangar. Bullets whizz in all directions as the smell of death amplifies.
I want to say my heart is sitting in my throat because I’m mortified by the pained cries shrilling through my ears, but that would be a lie. It’s our approach toward the room I pointed out minutes ago—the one Trey believes may have hostages inside.
Please let Nikolai be alive and safe in there.
“Drop!”
A man named Zoran grips my head, pulls me into his chest, then fires a shot over my right shoulder. He then spins me like a ballerina until I land into Maddox’s chest before executing a man charging toward our huddle with a machete in his hand. Clearly, he’s insane.Who in their right mind goes against men brandishing guns with a hand-held weapon?
Zoran’s break from the circle allows me to catch a glimpse of the carnage occurring outside of my safety bubble. Nikolai’s men have a clear advantage over the dozen or so men ambushed without warning. Half lay slayed on the ground, whereas the other half are in the process of surrendering—their fight over before it truly began.
“Wait,” Maddox warns when I attempt to break free from his hold to move toward the padlocked door on my right. “Let Trey clear the room first.”
