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When it went to voicemail, I almost screamed. As soon as I heard the beep, I started rambling everything my father had told me, including the name of the undercover agent. After I finished the call, I reached for the water faucet, unable to stop shaking.
Get a grip.
Breathe.
This wasn’t happening. It just couldn’t be. After splashing my face with water several times, I finally glanced into the mirror. Oh, hell, no, I wasn’t going to fall apart. Maybe in some demented way my father had thought he was protecting me.
After another few seconds, I returned to the hallway, returning to the stairwell. It was time to say goodbye then obey the very rules I knew would keep me safe.
I took the stairs two at a time, cognizant of another door opening. When I rounded the corner of the banister heading to the next floor, a cold chill trickled down my spine. Three men were heading down. Correction, three assassins. They were dressed in hospital gear, but instead of tennis shoes or crocs, they wore combat boots. The signs were clear. Terror rushed through me.
The second one of the assholes recognized me, a light went off in his eyes. Then he grinned.
I turned, racing down the stairs, letting out a bloodcurdling scream.
A hand was slapped over my mouth and I was dragged against the attacker’s chest. I struggled, praying my yelp had been heard. But as he moved toward the basement of the building, my sense of hope started to fade.
And all I could think about was praying my savior would come find me.
* * *
Sevastian
I felt the vibration of my phone and hissed.
“Vincheti needs to die,” Alexei huffed.
“He isn’t the point right now,” my father snapped. “The Colombians are.”
“I have men on the street, soldiers guarding our warehouses. Any sign of them and we’ll strike.” My answer was the same as it had been five minutes ago. I’d made several calls on the way. Every able-bodied man was on the job tonight. There were lots of rumors, but nothing concrete. However, it was apparent that a major score was going down tonight.
The question was where and to which organization.
“If Vincheti retaliated in any way, Rojas will target them first. They will assassinate Cesare.” My father looked tired. Sometimes the thought and preparation for war was just as horrific as actually fighting it.
“Then he’ll come for you,” I offered.
“I have extra protection,” he insisted.
I glanced at Alexei then at Kirill, the man who handled every mercenary situation in town.
“I’ll be joining my soldiers at the port. He’s using the diamonds. I’m going to have a long chat with the port authority.” Kirill grinned.
“Let us know,” I barked as he headed for the door. “We may need to work with the Vinchetis.”
Pops laughed while Alexei snorted. “You want to dip into that well again?” Alexei asked. “Odnazhdy predatel, vsegda predatel.”
Once a traitor, always a traitor.
“Maybe so, son, but the last thing either one of us want is the fucking bastards in our city,” Pops almost bellowed. “Send protection to the hospital.”
“Won’t that seem conciliatory?” I asked.
“Who gives a shit. We need solidarity right now,” he replied.
“Fine. I’ll order it.” I yanked the phone into my hand just as Sanchez’s number popped on the screen. “You have her safe?”
“Just the opposite, boss.”
