Nikolai appears as if he wants to kiss me again, but our bumpy return to solid ground keeps his focus on the task at hand. “When they come to collect us, I need you to distract the guard.”
“Okay. . . Why?”
With the grin of an insane man, Nikolai waves his shiv in the air.
His smile sags when I ask, “You’re just going to stun him, right?”
“When forced between being killed or killing, you must always chose the latter,Ahren.These men are going to kill us. Or worse. . .” The panic in his eyes reveals the words his mouth refuses to express: death will be the kindest thing they’ll do to us tonight.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
I’ve barely talked my heart into my plans when the jingling of keys sounds through my ears. Someone is unlocking the cargo hold of the plane.
Seconds before the hatch opens, a name is called. “Maxsim!”
The door slams shut, partially blocking out the female confronting him. I can’t hear what she is saying, but I’m reasonably sure her accent is French.
Fighting through the cramps shooting across my stomach, I scoot closer to the escape hatch. The chain circling my wrist pinches my skin, but my new position awards me snippets of the couple’s conversation.
“What did you do? This wasn’t our plan. You said no one would get hurt.”
Maxsim mutters something back, but his words are too low for me to hear them. They appear commanding, yet sorrowful. Perhaps even torn.
“No! This isn’t what I wanted. I only ever wanted you, but you’ve let greed get the best of you by becoming someone you swore you’d never be. You are your father!”
My heart shatters when a slap breaks through the shouting. It is so loud, my cheek stings.
Feet shuffling breaks over my raging heart before I hear, “Maya, wait!”
My eyes jackknife back to Nikolai. His ticking jaw and narrowed eyes reveal Maxsim’s scream was loud enough for him to hear. It also reveals the unlikelihood that he’ll believe my claim that there are thousands of Mayas in the world, and that she may not be his half-sister.
That may be true, but one with a French accent in the middle of a mafia war is highly improbable.
Another ten minutes pass before the jingling of keys returns to our ears.
“Convince him to get close enough to us that I can grab him,” Nikolai instructs as he primes himself to appear as if he’s unconscious.
I nod mere seconds before the hatch swings open. The man entering isn’t Maxsim, but I recognize him. He’s the goon who held a gun to Eli’s temple earlier tonight.
“Come on, wake up, pretty boy. It’s time to get the party started.” He tosses a can of beer at Nikolai’s head, too scared to approach him even with him being shackled and injured.
“Argh!” I clutch my stomach, finally acknowledging the pain tearing me in two.
I wish this was part of my ploy. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case. I’m in immense pain and suddenly in grave fear for our baby.
My screamed howls gain me the attention of both Nikolai and the guard. Nikolai eyes me cautiously, unsure if I have exemplary acting skills or if I’m in genuine pain. The guard is nowhere near as worried. He saunters my way, his steps as arrogant as the expression on his abhorrent face. He’s relishing my pain, loving it as much as Nikolai despises it.
“Save your tears, Princess. We don’t want them all used up before we’ve had our fun. Some whore’s tears are tastier than their cunts.”
When he leans in to gather a blob of moisture sitting high on my cheek, Nikolai makes his move. He rises for the ground as if he is weightless, his movements so sleek, the guard is none the wiser to the fact he’s about to be struck by a cobra.
It only dawns on him he’s being stalked when the metal knife Nikolai crafted with his bare hand colors the steel walls surrounding us with his blood. He falls to his knees, his hands shooting up to clutch the vibrant red line stretching from one of his ears to the next.
When he continues dropping, I shuffle back. The blood seeping from his wound warrants a frightened response, much less the gargled screams tearing from his throat. Even seconds from death, he hasn’t forgotten his honor. He’s calling out for help, alerting his crew of our plans to escape.
Nikolai attempts to silence his warning with his fists, but with his chain only allowing him to reach his legs, the task is left to me. With our baby’s safety on the forefront of my mind, I curl my hands over the unnamed man’s mouth and nose. He thrashes and kicks against me, but nothing will stop me from silencing him. If I don’t seek medical attention within the hour, I doubt our baby will make it through the night.
Tears roll down my face unchecked when the stranger gives up his will to live. His legs are the first thing to still, closely followed by his chest. By the time his hands flop from his neck, I’ve shed enough tears to fill a river.
