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Blinking, I frown. Too late, I realize he’s not going to stop.
“Look out,” I yell, trying to warn the driver.
He yanks the wheel to the right.
The car smashes into us from the side, hitting the passenger door in the front. The airbags pop. Metal crunches and glass cracks as the momentum pushes us over the tarmac. My body is thrown violently against the door as our car folds around a lamppost.
Every bone in my body aches as I blink in shock, struggling to process what’s happened. The driver of the car who hit us gets out. He walks around our car toward the driver’s side. The window has exploded from the impact. The lamppost obstructs the door, and the other side of the car is banged in so badly that I’m not sure he’ll be able to open the door. He’ll have to call the fire brigade to cut us out.
He stops in front of the broken window.
“Help us,” I croak, wiping away something wet that runs over my cheek. I’m trembling all over, the cold from the outside somehow already inside my body, the chill encasing my insides, scrambling my thoughts.
He offers me a smile. Taking a gun with a silencer screwed onto the barrel from under his coat, he pushes the gun against the airbag and fires a shot. A scream catches in my throat. A car pulls up next to us, presumably to offer assistance, but the driver’s eyes go wide when he sees the gun. He pulls off without a word.
I scoot to the other side, yanking on the door with shaking hands, but it’s stuck.
The man puts two fingers on the driver’s neck, checking for a pulse.
Oh God. Maybe he just shot the airbag to deflate it.
I raise my hands, my stomach roiling with a mixture of terror and hope. “Please.” Does the man even understand English? “Please, don’t hurt us.”
Aiming the barrel at the driver’s temple, the man pulls the trigger.
32
Alex
Igor takes the front steps two at a time and stops next to me where I stand on the porch. Flanked by Dimitri and Leonid, we watch Mikhail and his entourage leave.
“Poisoning?” Leonid says. “Who would want to poison Dania Turgeneva?”
The cars clear the gates. I follow their speedy departure with a thoughtful gaze. “Whoever he is, he’s a dead man.”
“You bet.” Dimitri shakes his head. “No one messes with Mikhail’s princess. I can’t believe someone was so stupid.”
“What about the operation?” Igor asks. “Do we still move out?”
“No.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “Let’s wait until there’s news about Dania. It would be disrespectful to launch a full-blown war if Mikhail’s daughter is dying. We should wait until Mikhail knows more about the poisoning and how it happened.”
“What about Kate?” Igor’s brows pull together. “Does she have any idea what kind of poison it may be?”
“We haven’t had time to speak yet,” I say. “Keep alert and double the guards around the house. Let me know if you pick up anything on satellite. I’m going to talk to Katerina.”
The men nod in unison. I leave them in charge of the security and go back inside the house. The door clicks shut behind me, the electronic pad beeping as the lock activates. Two men guard the door. Another stands near the hallway.
“Anything?” I ask as I approach him.
“No, sir,” he says, looking straight ahead. “The downstairs rooms are clear. We’re checking upstairs as we speak.”
I have the house swept on a weekly basis and immediately after I’ve had visitors. I trust Mikhail, but it can’t hurt to be cautious. Especially in light of what has transpired.
Making my way past him, I go to the guest bathroom. A smell of bleach hangs in the air. Lena is mopping the floor. She looks up when I stop in the doorframe.
“Have you seen Katerina?” I ask.
“No, sir. Maybe she went upstairs.”
On my way to the lounge, I check the library and my study. Both rooms are deserted. The lounge is empty. I try the room Igor converted into a makeshift clinic, but when I don’t find her there either, I make my way upstairs.
The house is big. Three men are sweeping the second floor. I pass them in the hallway and open our bedroom door.
Empty.
Crossing the floor with big strides, I enter the dressing room.
No sign of her.
I knock on the bathroom door. “Katerina?”
No reply.
A bad feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. I open the door, already knowing what I’ll find.
Nothing. No one.
Fuck.
I yank my phone from my pocket and dial Igor, already running for the stairs. When he picks up, I bark out, “Katerina is gone. Search the house, the garden, and the barracks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You,” I say, pointing at one of the men guarding the front door.
He jumps to attention.
“Did Miss Morrell leave the house after Mr. Turgenev and me?”
