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“Because you let Petrov go.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. You’ve got to be shitting me?” They’d chosen to save a woman’s life and diffuse a bomb that could’ve killed everyone in her proximity if it had been detonated. That was very different than letting Petrov go.
“This isn’t over,” Gunner announced to all those assembled. “Onyx, you ride the bus with Alegria.” Gunner looked at the assembled group. If Alegria hadn’t been injured herself, she’d be the one riding with Svetlana. That left Striker, Dutch, and Monk. Striker had to help them get this deal back on the table, and Monk had communication…issues.
“Dutch, you ride with Svetlana.” Another thing occurred to him. “Do you speak Azeri?”
Dutch shook his head.
“Russian? Armenian?”
“Negative.”
“Contact Pimm and have him meet you at the hospital.” Raketa’s mother would need someone who could explain what had happened to her, and reassure her of her safety while, at the same time, figure out if she knew where Petrov might have gone.
Gunner looked over at Shiv, who was studying his phone. His eyes met Gunner’s, and he didn’t like what he saw in them.
“Raketa?” he asked, not knowing
why, other than the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach.
Shiv nodded. “I’m afraid Petrov may have her.”
“How in the hell?” Gunner asked.
“She left Doc’s compound a half hour ago.”
“And you know this how?”
“You know the answer, Gunner. We need to go find her before Petrov has a chance to kill her.”
—:—
The vehicle came to a stop, and Topor killed the engine. It hadn’t taken long for them to arrive at the place where she’d breathe her last breath. Raketa squared her shoulders and raised her chin. She wasn’t a coward, even in the face of death.
She felt Topor fumbling with the blindfold. When she opened her eyes, she saw her gun in his hand.
“Here,” he said, motioning for her to take it.
“Why?”
“In the next few minutes, either you or I are going to kill Petrov.”
The intel had been correct. “You’re my uncle.”
Topor nodded as he prepped a second gun. “And we’re about to kill your father.”
“He’s not my father. He’s the devil.”
Topor nodded again. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Petrov’s breathing was labored as she and Topor approached him.
“Ah, not in a protected location after all, Zaryana,” he said to her with an evil grin. “Good work, Topor.”
She’d known, without her uncle saying it, that the gun he held pressed against her back was only for show. It would get them close enough to Petrov for one of them to kill him.
