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“Explain why you’re going in to get Raketa before Petrov, and don’t give me the shit about taking care of our own first,” he demanded once they were out of earshot of the rest of the team.
“Getting her out makes the rest of our job easier.”
Gunner nodded. “What’s the connection?” he asked without necessarily intending to.
“We haven’t been able to draw a line between them,” answered Striker. “Maybe she’s somehow connected to the bodyguard that had been posing as his wife.”
No one had suspected “Kelly McNamara” of being much more than Petrov’s latest gold-digging wife when he’d been living his life as Conor McNamara. Although Gunner did remember Razor saying the wife rankled him too.
When they went back inside, Striker suggested they check out the theory that Ivashov and Shahij were somehow connected.
“I’ll take a look,” offered Onyx.
Gunner nodded. He’d always liked the man who’d started out on their payroll solely as a pilot but had recently become a K19 partner. The thing he liked most about him was he only spoke when necessary. More people should be like that, in his opinion. However, another of their operatives, code name Monk, took it to an extreme.
He shook his head. What the hell was he doing, letting himself get distracted by anything that didn’t directly involve getting Raketa out of Petrov’s compound?
“We could delay twenty-four hours—”
“No,” Gunner snapped at Striker. “I’m getting her out of there tonight.”
“Understood.”
Gunner turned to Shiv. “Once she’s out, slit Petrov’s damn throat.”
* * *
They spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing the compound’s security setup.
While Petrov may have been able to update some of it, the only way to get it airtight would be to tear it down and build again—something that would never be allowed in the Old City. Not that Petrov had the money to do much more than the bare minimum. The agency had made sure his assets were seized, but more importantly, they’d put a watch on his offshore accounts.
The man would soon be paralyzed financially, unless he had cash hidden, which was more of a probability than a possibility.
3
Raketa startled awake and sat up. The words she’d heard echoing in her head in her dream were the same ones she’d heard this afternoon. Worse, they’d been cried with the same voice she last heard when she was eight years old.
It suddenly became perfectly clear who the other captive was. She must have been held here since that fateful day twelve years ago when Raketa was told both her parents were dead.
After seeing Alegria, she’d allowed herself to hope that, soon, she’d be free. Now she knew she couldn’t leave until she figured out a way to take the other woman with her.
—:—
It was a simple in-and-out deal. Almost too easy. As much as Gunner didn’t want backup, he’d accepted it upon Shiv’s insistence.
He checked the time. Four more minutes. In and out. Done. Raketa safe. Petrov dead. That was the plan.
—:—
She stood and paced, trying for the third time to figure out a way to get the locked door of her apartment open. She’d known, when Petrov said she could “enjoy a great deal of freedom,” he had not meant she could wander the corridors of the compound alone.
She heard a popping sound, and a moment later, the entire compound went dark. With the moon hovering behind clouds, it was pitch black.
She felt his breath before a hand slipped over her mouth and an arm encircled her waist.
“Shh,” Gunner’s voice whispered in her ear.
Raketa tried to struggle, but didn’t make a sound. There was no question her apartment was being surveilled, and while the power may be out temporarily, she assumed the compound had backup generators that would kick on at any moment. She couldn’t go with him, but she didn’t want Gunner killed either, especially since he thought he was rescuing her.
