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Prologue
Danhy
Six Months Earlier
“Tori. What’s up?” My brother almost never calls me at this time of day. Especially not since Kensie has been staying with him the past few weeks.
“I just got a visit from a Mr. Babichev. Apparently, his parents were murdered a month ago on their property. They were Russian diplomats, running a case against Sasha Kerkin.”
“Well, shit. Why are they coming to us?” I mean we rescue and sometimes kill known traffickers, but only if we have to, in order to rescue the victims.
“His sister, Zoya has been missing since before the fire. She is all he has left. He wants us to find her.”
“Ah. Ok. Who am I bringing in?” When something is out of the country, I normally take the job and bring in outside help. My brothers, all having families now, will only take jobs in the country.
“Call the Colonel and Axel. Diesel is already on a job with another team right now.” Shit. That’s right. I forgot he was on a mission with the special forces for the next few weeks.
“I will begin tracing her whereabouts. Have Axel look for any known friends, acquaintances. I will have the Colonel find out where the hell Kerkin is.” As I give Tori the list, I write down the tasks, set to give each of them their orders. The Colonel is older than me, but he respects the orders. If we get the mission, it is our orders. If he gets the mission, it is his. That is why we all work so well together. Respect.
“Sounds good. Keep me posted. Her picture is incoming.” I finish writing down my tasks and once I am positive I haven’t missed anything, I open up my email to print the file Tori sent over. I am not really paying attention as the paperwork comes over. I typically read them when I get home. I sit on my couch, ID channel on with a beer and the file and study it.
More than prepared to do just that, I go and grab the last document off the printer, and everything falls out of my hand. I stand there, not moving. Eyes pinned to the picture in my hand, not breathing, or moving. Stunned. Frozen. My mind whirring over and over like a fan. Not comprehending what I am seeing. The vision in front of me is, quite simply put, gorgeous! She is stunning. Her piercing green eyes looking right through me, begging me to find her. Her face, creamy and innocent, smiling like she knows she is meant to be mine. Ethereal. Like a Fairy.
Who the fuck knew fairies were real?
Chapter One
Danhy
Six Months Later
“We got her Danhy!” Is the shout I hear over the phone as I answer it out of my sleep. My body immediately comes alive. There is only one person he would be calling me about at this time of day.
“Where the fuck is she?” I ask while I am putting on my clothes. I am not wasting another minute. I have been searching for Zoya for six fucking months, flying in and out of potential countries, leaving empty-handed. Each time my heart dims more and more, knowing that as time passes, the likelihood is that she is going to be dead.
“She was spotted in an abandoned building in Svobodny, when one of the snipers was slithering in and out to gauge the space. He remembered seeing her pic in one of the trafficked files that came across his station. He called it in.”
“Shit. How long do we have?” Traffickers never allow too much time to pass before they move again. Sitting in one spot too long is not good for their business or freedom.
“They got there this morning their time. So, I would say you have less than 48 hours.”
“Fuck!! Axel, how soon can we get the jet?”
“The colonel is fueling it up now. He needed to take Kimbella to stay with Om and Taryn. You know, with her being pregnant again and all. He said to meet him at the strip, in an hour.”
“See you then.” I hang up, no time for talking and shit. This is it. The moment when I get my woman and I am done fucking around. I finish putting my boots on and lacing them up and I remember I have to make my check in call.
“Danhy.”
“Om. Destination Russia. Svobodny. Rescue Zoya. Snake Kerkin. Touchdown ten hours and twenty-one minutes. Code name: Stockholm. “I laid out the details of the flight, who we are rescuing, the perpetrator’s name, and the code I will check in with. This is how we keep track of one another and make sure someone always knows how to find us if we can’t be tracked.
“10-4. Tracker set?”
“Yes. 0100 hours.”
“Be safe, little brother.”
“10-4.” With that, I grab my keys and head to the airfield. The Colonel is just boarding as I make it to the plane.
