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His body is crumpled in a chair, his face bloody and bruised. His dark hair sticks up in a million different directions, and his usual Armani is torn and tattered. The guy looks like he’s been to hell and back — ten times over.
Beaten to shit.
I never thought I’d see the day.
His head rolls backward, his eyes open a slit because they’re so swollen and cut. His breathing is labored, and body slack in the chair. I stare, because it’s hard not to gape at this bad ass, Russian mob boss, broken beyond repair. Given my own experiences, I can honestly understand why people would want to do this to him. The guy is a complete prick — evil, malicious, and lethal as a shot between the eyes.
Hell, I’d have liked to take a crack at him myself, especially after hearing what Kat had gone through for all of those years.
What she continues to go through now.
But there isn’t time to unpack any of that. I need to find Kat and Lindy. Then I need to get them the hell out of here before anyone gets hurt.
If that hasn’t already happened.
I inch closer to Viktor and kneel down next to him, loosening the ropes binding his wrists and feet. Heavy footsteps get louder and then another round of gunfire explodes around me. “Fuck!” I grunt. “Viktor, where is Kat?”
“Alexi…supposed to be watching…can’t find her…” His weak voice trails off, eyes drooping closed.
I shake him, my voice rising in panic. “She’s not here? Where is she? Who is she with?”
Another low groan rumbles deep in his throat. “…Remy…has her…” A thick cough erupts from his heaving chest.
“Remy is here?”
But Viktor doesn’t answer. He’s in and out of consciousness, which means we may have a little time. If Nico is right, if they really want him to witness Kat’s murder as their final play, they’d need to keep him alive. And awake.
Maybe she’s not here.
Maybe she escaped.
Maybe—
I can’t sit here any longer, wondering what the hell may have happened.
I have to act. Now. Diversion or not.
I need to find my girls.
I creep toward the doorway and push it open. The hallway is clear.
Quiet.
The aftermath?
I don’t have time to check on the guys. I just have to pray most of those gunshots took out the enemy.
I stay low to the ground as I inch forward down the hall. The stench of stale beer and cigarettes makes my stomach roil. I swallow hard, but my throat is so damn tight. Feels like an invisible hand is choking me.
Something tells me that before I make it out of this dump, there will be a real hand reaching around my neck and squeezing.
A loud shriek pierces the air and I jump. Fuck, that’s Lindy…
I don’t think. I don’t wait. I don’t breathe.
I just run in the direction of the cry. “Lindy!” I yell, kicking open another door. Two guys are sitting at a table, snorting lines of something. One of them leaps up from his seat and goes to grab his gun…
Two seconds too late. I fire off a few shots until they both hit the floor. “Lindy!” I yell again.
