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SASHA
Dimitri didn’t give me the exact location once I peeled out of the alley next to the club in Sienna’s car. He instructed me while I drove until I crossed the George Washington bridge into Jersey. From there, I hopped on the Express until I turned off, heading toward the same private airport my father used to use when I was a kid, until he moved his plane to a hanger he had built on his property in Long Island.
I had every intention of calling my brother once I was off the phone with The Devil, but after that call ended, my cell phone no longer had service. I’d wonder how he got my service turned off, but men like him can make damn near anything they want happen.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. For the second time in my life, I’m scared shitless. The first being the morning I woke up married to the only man I’ll ever love and freaked the fuck out. I ran like a coward instead of talking to Ren. I owed him the truth, yet I knew if I spoke it out loud, it would make it real in my head. I wasn’t ready, which is why I had no business saying, “I do” in the first place, at least not then.
Now is a different story, only it might be too late. There’s no telling if Dimitri kept him alive long enough for me to get here. He’s a sick bastard, so I’m betting on him getting enjoyment from watching me watch his death. I’m not delusional. I know he doesn’t plan to let Ren walk just from me handing myself over. And I won’t go down without a fight. For Ren. For me. For our baby and for our future. If we get one.
It’s now or never.
I push through the door to the hanger that had two black SUVs parked outside of it. That was also in Dimitri’s directions, no doubt picking this private airport for a reason. I don’t see anyone else in sight.
There’s a jet to the far right. It’s hard to miss from my peripheral. The hanger can house two planes, but today there is only one inside, taking up half the space. The man sitting in a chair with his back facing me and his hands secured behind it is the first place my eyes land. Relief floods my system, seeing Ren alive. My chest expands, pulling in air, taking a full breath for the first time since I realized my husband had been taken.
It wasn’t hard to guess the person behind it. If you’d asked me last month, I likely would have accused my father first. When Dad told me he never agreed to sell me to the Sokolovs, I was surprised, and didn’t believe him at first. When Tony dropped his bomb, it was exactly that: a bomb that landed on top of the forest fire Ren had already set.
My husband manipulated my feelings and the beliefs of my father to get me to marry him. My father and Tony decided we should be joined in matrimony when we were babies or small children. I didn’t get clarification on the matter.
I was mad at Ren, but it’s not as though I didn’t want to become his wife. I wanted that more than anything I’ve ever wanted—that was until I found out I was pregnant. After that fact seeped in, the baby took over the first spot in my heart. I do want him or her with Ren. I don’t want to do this with anyone besides Lorenzo, or alone.
“Ptichka.” I’m revolted by Dimitri’s false, sugarcoated voice. It makes my stomach churn. “Glad you could join us.”
He’s standing farther back than where Ren is seated. His men are behind him, one on each side about ten feet back, closer to the wall of the metal building.
“Sasha, get the fuck out of here,” Ren bellows, his head remaining straight, likely watching Dimitri even though he’s talking to me. His shirt is stained pink, telling me he’s wounded somewhere on his person.
“What the hell did you do to him?” I demand from Dimitri while my booted feet move, taking me to Ren. When I reach him, I wrap my hands around his head and bend, placing my forehead against the side of his.
“Snowflake, leave. Please, Sasha, get out of here.”
“Not without you. I’m sorry I was a bitch, am a bitch most of the time. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Ren.” I tip my head and kiss him while I run my left hand down his cheek, stopping when I reach his neck.
“Don’t try anything, ptichka. He’ll be dead before you get him loose and you’ll still be leaving with me.” Dimitri’s tone is bored, which is bad. He’s going to want to speed this up, not giving me time to stall.
My right hand runs down the back of Ren’s head, stopping when my arm is parallel to the ground. The blade is at my ready. As it slips from the sleeve of Sienna’s jacket, I send a silent prayer out, hoping Ren doesn’t react when the tip of the sharp knife meets the flesh of his palm. I’m banking a lot on neither Dimitri nor his men being able to see me.
“Time’s up. That’s all I can take of seeing your hands on another man. That ends now. Get over here, Little Bird.”
The blade escapes its hiding place. Righting my spine, it doesn’t hit the ground and I don’t dare glance behind Ren. Giving him my best smile, I mouth, I’m only yours. Not lingering, I turn my feet to face my childhood devil and take the first step toward whatever end is going to happen.
“Sasha,” Ren calls.
I quicken my steps, folding my fingers into a balled fist in slow motion. I’m not going down without a fight, motherfucker. Dimitri eyes me, amusement in his eyes. When the toes of my boots collide with his polished dress shoes, I kick my triceps behind me to give me momentum, then I swing, my torso twisting with the action, sending all the strength I have at his face.
His right palm slams against my fist. “Really, ptichka?” His fingers tighten around my fist, his lips tilting up as he squeezes and twists, forcing my arm downward. It hurts, and I allow him to see the grimace set across my features as it turns to pain. He likes it. It turns him on. There’s pleasure sparking from the depths of his dark gaze shining back down at me.
That’s when the hilt of Sienna’s other blade in the left sleeve of her jacket slips into the palm of my hand. My fingers wrap around the handle, and faster than he can blink, I sink it through flesh and muscle and an artery he can’t survive without being intact. His eyes widen with realization at the same time my lips spread.
“Really,” I retort as I yank the blade out, blood squirting from the opening.
“You bitc—” comes from my left, but then the sound of a gun pops. From my peripheral, he drops like a sack of potatoes.
“That was your carotid artery.” I stab him again, this time in his upper thigh.
“You’re dead, bitch. You’re all dea . . . ahhh,” the other guy to my right, behind Dimitri hollers. I can see the gun drop from his hand and a knife clatter to the ground. I rip the blade out of the second wound.
“That was your femoral artery,” I tell him as his knees give out, his body dropping to the ground while his hate-filled eyes remain locked with my elated ones. Someone rushes past me on the right side.
