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There was a slight tremor to her voice when she said, “If I don’t make it…”
“Don’t say that,” I snapped.
“Still, if I don’t—” she started again.
“No,” I said. “You don’t get to think that, let alone voice it. We’re almost there, less than a minute away. Duck behind the counter, Ekaterina, you don’t need to be a warrior anymore.”
“I really hate it when you interrupt me,” she snapped. “Also, I’m still very pissed at you.”
Her next sentence got lost in a rain of gunfire. Then we got disconnected.
I threw my phone to the floor. “Blyat!”
The van came to a halt and my soldiers spilled out, joining Viking’s crew that had parked and got out of another van just before us. I didn’t think about Katya anymore, I couldn’t if I were to get her out of this. As a unit, flanked by Damon and Viking, with me in the middle, we opened fire on the assholes in front of us.
There were two SUVs, and as far as I could tell from the erupting gunfire which lit up the darkness, there were only half a dozen men.
Once they spotted us, they turned away from the gas station, which resembled a shack more than a building. Pride for my woman who had held out for so long on her own bloomed in my chest.
A loudboompierced the night. One of their SUVs caught on fire.
“Nice,” Viking said in a gravelly voice.
I couldn’t agree more. Damon was an experienced pitcher. His grenades never missed their marks. Neither did my men when they plowed through the assholes who had targeted my wife. It wasn’t long before each and every one of them was dead, like a bunch of rats scattered across the ground.
When the dust settled, I homed in on the gas station’s door. From what I could see it was barricaded. My heart was in a vice, afraid to hope, yet my mind wouldn’t even entertain the thought that Katya was dead, that some stray bullet had found its way to her.
When her head peeked through the front window, my heart started beating again.
My men rushed over to help her with the door. The moment she got out of the building, Viking took her into a bear hug. I swallowed, and tried not to resent him for having such an easy relationship with her.
He had caught a bullet for her though, so he did have the pity factor going for him.
“Get Yulyev on the phone,” I told Damon. I was too pumped up to go to Katya. And, if I was being totally honest, I wasn’t sure how she would react. It would kill me if she turned away from me. So I did what I always did; I focused on business.
He picked up on the second ring. “Yuryev,” a deep voice barked. He sounded agitated, probably because he couldn’t get a hold of his men.
“This is Romanov,” I said, using my hated last name.
A pause, then, “What do you want?”
There was trepidation in his voice now. As usual my name had served its purpose.
“You went after someone who belongs to me.”
“The Aslanov bitch isn’t blood or Bratva,” he sneered.
Despite everything, I admired Sokolov for his scheming. “You ever call mywifea bitch again, and I will personally come over there and rip out your tongue.”
“Your wife?” If voices could change color his would be ashen.
“Guess Sokolov forget to tell you about that little detail.”
Yuryev cursed. “I didn’t know,” he said, confirming my suspicion about the man who had directed him in Katya’s direction.
“I get you want to kill the man who murdered your family. I also understand that you didn’t know about Aslanov’s daughter being my wife, so I’m going to give you a pass, just this once.”
“I’m listening.” He sounded relieved, believing he would get to live.
