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The Russian sobbed in front of me. Pathetic.
I went back into the room to grab his gun. I checked the chamber. Loaded. On the way out of the building I coldly shot him between the eyes.
Then I heard the sound of distant sirens.
“I told you that you wouldn’t be fucking breathing if I saw you again. Same goes for your friends. They’re all dead men.”
Chapter Fifteen
Alexandra
I was bundled into a small space, with no idea where I was. The sack was removed from my head. It then dawned on me that I was in the trunk of a car.
Great.
The door slammed shut and the space became airless, instantly making me feel claustrophobic. An image of Cruz came to my mind, and I tried to find comfort in it. I took slow, steadying breaths and thought about the safety I felt in his arms. Convincing myself that I would somehow return to those comforting arms, a wave of calm washed over me.
The sound of the car’s engine chugging to life reached me in the trunk. I tried to stay calm, but it had suddenly become that much more difficult. Yet, I vowed this would be the first and last time I ever traveled in the trunk of a car.
As my captors quickly drove off, I distracted myself with thoughts of Cruz and our activities the night before…
Cruz
I left the building by the fire escape, my newly acquired gun hidden down the back of my black combat pants. I kept my left hand on the grip as I sprinted into a dark alleyway nearby, my eyes darting left and right as I crossed the road outside the hotel.
No sign of anyone.
I supposed they’d thought one unarmed guy couldn’t beat an armed ex-KGB assassin. But that was understandable; this was the first time they’d dealt with Cruz Miller. And it will also be the last.
I slowed my stride to a jog, breathing deeply as I paced myself.
I had memorized my Prague contact’s number and decided to jog for a few minutes before finding a payphone. I doubted that I was being followed now they had Alexandra, so my last advantage was their arrogance. They would pay dearly for assuming I was a dead man.
My mind focused, I began planning my attack, letting my brain process the details as I ran. I formulated a rough plan as I jogged, which I would perfect later.
Location. Numbers. Weapons at my disposal.
After a brief stop at an ATM and then a small store to get a can of Coke and some chocolate for an energy boost, I found an old payphone that was luckily still working. I dialed the number from memory, breathing steadily. The run had cleared my mind, loosened my muscles, and expanded my lungs. I felt good.
The phone rang for a few seconds before a click as it was answered. And then there was silence.
“It’s me. I need some help. I’m calling in that favor,” I said.
A voice protested at the other end of the phone, saying something about me not knowing how bad these guys were.
“I don’t give a shit! Remember what Jean-Jacques said? Tell me what I need to fucking know. Now!”
I heard fear in his voice as he gave me the location— an old abandoned farmhouse out of the city. Not far. He paused, then reeled off a few details about Alexandra’s captors and Jean’s whereabouts.
Hearing clearly that he was more scared of Jean than the Russians, I couldn’t help wondering what Jean had said to him.
“Right. Last favor. I need guns. And a big fucking knife.” I looked around at the blazing afternoon sun around me. “And some fucking sunglasses.”
He gave me a location not far from where I was, saying one his guys would meet me there. I warned him not to fuck with me, otherwise the consequences would be catastrophic. So, I doubted he would be stupid about it.
Alexandra
The car stopped about half an hour later, I guessed, though I had no sense of the time. I had bumped my head often during the undignified transit and was slightly bruised and disheartened. The trunk opened suddenly, low afternoon sun blinding me. The bag was unceremoniously placed back onto my head as I was pulled roughly out.
