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LUKA
I grind my heels into the gravel next to a cluster of banyan trees, staring at Boris’s modern beige stucco mansion in front of us. No movement along the rust-colored Spanish tile roof. No shadows moving between windows.
The place looks quiet and peaceful, exactly why Boris bought the property in the first place. He said he needed serenity from his otherwise chaotic lifestyle. How ironic that the seclusion has brought the chaos to his literal front door.
The sound of Bay waves lapping against the shore on Boris’s private sliver of Surfside Beach, which normally calms the chaos inside of my head, only amplifies my alarm.
“Dmitri’s got them both in there. Natasha and Tori,” I say, my voice choked with anger. I use the back of my hand to swipe away the beads of sweat on the nape of my neck. “And God only knows what he’s done to Boris. Fuck, how did he even know to come here?”
When he kidnapped Tori and Natasha, did he threaten to hurt them if they didn’t give up my location? I have no goddamn clue why else he’d be here right now unless he planned to bait me.
Or kill me.
What the hell ever.
“Screw Boris,” Taras sneers. “I wanna know what the hell you’re going to do now, boss. Which one are you gonna choose if Dmitri pulls the trigger? How deep does your family loyalty go?”
I gave Taras too much credit before. He still doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut so now I have to do it for him.
“You still have the nerve to say that shit to me after everything I’ve done for this family? You’ve collected plenty because of me, you bastard. Everything you own, everything you drive, everything you fucking wear came from me doing my job for this family.”
I lunge for Taras, shoving him backward into a nearby tree with such force that the branches shake. “Question me one more time, and you’ll only live long enough to see me choose to shoot you in the fucking head.”
“Enough,” Nikolai says, pulling me away from Taras. “There’s no choice to be made, guys. We take them both, alive. No other option.”
I glare at Taras, his face bright red, his blue eyes spitting fire. I know he’s willing me to spontaneously combust right now, but that’s not gonna happen yet. When it does, when the explosion finally comes, I’m gonna make sure Dmitri is in range so he goes up in flames right next to me. Then I’ll send him straight to hell.
“How the fuck is that supposed to happen?” Taras snips, fixing his shirt. “We don’t even know how many guys he’s got in there.”
“It doesn’t matter how many he has,” I say darkly. “He’s not gonna win.” But even as I say the words, doubt wrenches my gut. This isn’t a secret Maxim Molotov mission where I suddenly appear, take out my target, and disappear just as fast. I act alone on those missions. Nobody else is ever at risk when I do my job.
Today, though, there are four other people involved. Four people I love. Four people who are at risk for danger and possibly death if I run in there like the reckless rogue that Taras keeps reminding me I am.
I’m the best on my own, but this time it’s not Maxim Molotov invading the place. It’s Luka Malikov, boss of the Malikov Bratva. I can’t think or act like I have nothing to lose because I do. I have everything to lose if I make the wrong move.
“Oh, right. I forgot we have the assassin on our side. So what’s the plan?” Taras mutters with a roll of his eyes. “If we go in there firing, there’s a good chance they’ll do the same. And they might not be targeting us.”
“Dmitri wants his money, so he’s not gonna kill any of us. He’s using the girls as his leverage. He knows taking them is his only hope to get me in a room where I can listen to him spout out what he’s due.” I stare at the sprawling building through the trees, a trickle of sweat drizzling down my spine. “But fuck him if he thinks he’s getting a penny out of me.”
“Great, except how are you going to rescue anyone without a weapon? We walk in there with our guns pulled and it’s over. Nobody will survive that standoff. And anyway, he’ll take them from us the second we walk inside. Are you planning on using the fucking Force to get him to bend to your will?” Taras snaps with a roll of his eyes, mopping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
“The Force doesn’t work. I tried it just now to see if your mouth could be nailed shut.” I push past him and stalk toward the front door, my hopes for an ambush dissipating like a fart in the wind.
My feet move slowly, like they’re stuffed into cement shoes. Each heavy step I take over the cement pavers lining my path to the front entrance makes my gut twist harder and tighter.
Taras is right.
There won’t be a gunfight.
Seconds feel as if they stretch into hours as I walk up the granite staircase and stop under the arched entryway. The humidity in the air is so thick, I can chew it. Sweat pebbles on the back of my neck and drizzles in thin streams down my stiff spine.
I wrap my fingers around the brass door handle and push open the door, then step into the massive foyer. An ambush is out of the question since I won’t risk a stray bullet hitting either of the girls.
“Dmitri,” I yell, my voice echoing in the empty space. The sound ricochets off the walls and high ceilings. “Where the fuck are you?”
Silence greets us.
Or, more appropriately, taunts us.
