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He saw the surprise in Viktor's old, jaded eyes, quickly replaced withpleasure.
Artel was less pleased, eying Ryder with suspicion. Still, when his father gave his oldest son directions, Artellistened.
"Loan your weapon to Nicolai,syn. He offers a great service to thefamily."
It took almost a minute of silent standoff before the tallest Volkov in the room extended his hand, providing the only weapon in the room to a man he knew as Nicolai Romanovski. With a forced calmness, Ryder carefully closed the gap between them, grateful the bastard had been too arrogant to walk towards him. By making Nicolai come to him, he'd played perfectly into Ryder'splan.
The weapon was comfortingly heavy... sturdy. Out of habit, Ryder hit the magazine release, pulling the ammunition out to ensure all was as expected before slamming the magazine home and taking the weapon offsafety.
His trained movements were so smooth, the Volkovs' sluggish reactions were no match for the seasonedoperative.
Ryder closed the few feet remaining between him and Viktor Volkov. He grabbed the older man by the lapel of his suit, yanking him to his feet and pressing the nozzle of the weapon to his temple. His rush of adrenaline helped swing the now joined men around, putting the patriarch of the family directly in front of him, the perfectshield.
He'd half expected the other Volkovs to whip out hidden guns, but none did. Instead, they cursed loudly. The surprise on Vlad's face was almost comical, proving to Ryder he'd just blown a very successfulcover.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you kill innocent children. That's an unacceptable line tocross."
He'd spoken the words in Russian, but Artel answered him in English. "I fucking knew you weren't to be trusted. You have no idea how big of a mistake you made threatening myfather."
Ryder smiled a menacing smile, switching to English as well. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea. But this is how this is going to go." The elder Volkov struggled half-heartedly to break free, but he was too old. Toofrail.
He didn't dare take his eyes off Artel who was both the closest and deadliest man in the room, yet he spoke to the woman huddled on the floor crying. "Mrs. Marshall, stand up and gather your girls. Then walk to the man sitting directly in front of you in the black jacket. He's going to give you a set of carkeys."
Alexi's eyes widened before turning dark with rage. Ryder knew that Alexi would pay a high price for not detecting the truth earlier, and for that he was sorry, yet the man was no innocent. When you play with fire, you need to be prepared to getsinged.
Only when Mrs. Marshall had the keys in her hand did Ryder bark the next order. "Everyone except the Marshalls stand and go to the other end of the room." When no one moved into action, he pulled the muzzle of the gun away from Viktor's temple, only to bring it back with force. His pained cry filled the otherwise quiet room, jarring his sons into action, first rushing towards Ryder until he shouted, "STOP! NOW!" When the men did as they were told, he added, "To the other end,now."
Mrs. Marshall was stumbling towards the exit, pulling her girls with her, but Ryder needed to warn her of the dangers on the other side of thedoor.
"Don't leaveyet."
Her eyes widened, desperation glaring at him. She swayed on her feet, still unsure why one of the Russians was helpingher.
Ryder pulled the dead weight of Viktor Volkov along with him as he made his way to the door himself, keeping his back to the wall and the elder mafia king safely in front of him asleverage.
When he reached the door, he instructed her, "When we get outside this room, there will be many armed guards. We need to keep the old man between us and them. Grab a pool stick and put it into the door handles to this room to slow them down. We'll staytogether."
"But who are you?" she asked withdoubt.
"He's a dead man, that's who he is," Artel snarled from the far end of the room, too far away to help his father. Ryder made the mistake of making eye contact and knew if he didn't open fire and kill the men in the room before he left, he would forever be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. He'd never start his car again without wondering if that was the day it would explode, the Volkovs having foundhim.
He pushed down the thought of offing the entire family before leaving. As tempting as it was, he knew it would only destabilize things further in Russia. More importantly, it would alert the guards on the other side of thedoor.
Instead, he had the woman he was rescuing open the door slightly so he could glance out the crack. All of the guards were still playing cards, oblivious to the drama going on inside the private dining room. It gave Ryder theedge.
Going from slow motion to top speed, Ryder pushed through the door, swinging the old man in front of him as the henchman nearest the pool table recognized the threat. Ryder took aim and squeezed off a shot straight to his chest, quickly returning the muzzle to Viktor'stemple.
"Hands where I can see them," he shouted to the remaining Bratva. At first, no one moved, but he quickly raised the gun and shot into the ceiling before returning the threat to the old man's temple. "Hands!"
It was then Viktor finally spoke. "I'm disappointed, Nicolai. Artel warned me about you, but I did notlisten."
Nothing Ryder could say would change a thing so he kept silent, pushing their little party towards the exit while scanning the room for new threats. They had arrived at the door to the grand staircase when all hell broke loose. He reacted on instinct, lifting the gun and shooting at the armed guards in the room who dared to shoot in his direction, despite the patriarch of the family being at risk in the middle of theaction.
They were almost out the door when he felt the impact of the bullets hitting Viktor. The old man grunted in pain, slumping in Ryder's arms making it harder to continue using him as a shield. By the time they got to the stairs, Ryder knew he'd have to make it the rest of the way without the shield. He let the old man slump against the bottom steps. Standing above him, Ryder could see the pained disbelief etched across hisface.
"Why, Nicolai? I treated you as a son," the old mancroaked.
"No, Viktor. You treated me like a henchman. Nothing more. Nothingless."
