"You don't know that."
"You don't know that it won't." She squeezes my leg gently. "But we've prepared for everything we can think of. The rest is just execution."
I park several blocks away from the wharf in a location where I can watch without being seen. My men are positioned throughout the area, hidden but ready to move. Everything is in place.
Mariya leans over and kisses me, slow and deep. When she pulls back, her dark eyes are serious. "I'll see you soon."
"You'd better." I cup her face, my thumb brushing across her cheekbone. "Be careful."
"Always."
She slips out of the car and walks toward the wharf, her stride confident and unhurried. I watch her go, my hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles go white.
Through my earpiece, I hear my men reporting her position. She's at the wharf now, standing near the water like we planned. Waiting.
Minutes tick by. Then one of my men reports movement, a black sedan approaching from the north, two men inside, and both are armed.
"That's them," I mutter into my mic. "Everyone stay in position."
The sedan pulls up near Mariya. The passenger door opens, and a man steps out. He's tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of build that comes from years of violence. He approaches Mariya slowly, saying something I can't hear from this distance.
Mariya responds, her body language relaxed. She's playing her part perfectly.
Then everything happens fast. The man grabs her arm, pulling her toward the car. She struggles just enough to make it look real, but not enough to actually fight back. Within seconds, they have her in the backseat, and the sedan is pulling away.
"All units, follow that vehicle," I order, starting my engine. "Do not lose them."
I pull into traffic, keeping several cars between me and the sedan. My men report their positions, confirming they're also in pursuit. The tracking devices are working perfectly, showing Mariya's location on the screen mounted to my dashboard.
The sedan turns onto a side street, then another. They're heading toward the industrial district, exactly where we expected. Everything is going according to plan.
Then the signal cuts out. I stare at the screen, my pulse spiking. "What the fuck?"
"Boss, we lost the tracking signal," one of my men reports through the earpiece.
"I can see that." I slam my hand against the steering wheel. "Where's the sedan?"
"Unknown. They turned onto Warehouse Row and disappeared."
I accelerate, weaving through traffic as I head toward the last known location. My chest is tight, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ache.
When I reach Warehouse Row, the street is empty. No black sedan. No sign of Mariya.
"Spread out," I order my men. "Search every building, every alley. Find that fucking car."
But even as I say it, I know the truth settling in my gut like ice.
We've lost her.
33
MARIYA
The blindfold pisses me off. I didn't like it when Andrey did it, and I definitely don't like it now. It was wrapped around my eyes right after they pulled me into their car, and now we've been driving around, making too many turns for me to keep track. Thankfully, Andrey and the others are following and have the GPS signal to follow.
We turn off the road and drive slowly a few minutes before the car stops and the engine is turned off. We must have arrived at wherever they are taking me.
I allowed my "captors" to lead me by the arm inside a building, playing the part of a compliant captive because fighting would only make things worse. My heart hammers the entire walk, counting steps and listening for sounds that might tell me where they are taking me. But the men who grabbed me are professionals. They don't speak, don't give anything away.
