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I spin around.
Scarlett!
Amid the chaos, I lose sight of Scarlett and begin searching for her.
“Stop running, bitch!” someone snarls overhead.
My eyes catch a glimpse of movement high above, along one of the girders. Scarlett, nimble and agile, balances precariously on a narrow beam while one of Volkov’s mercenaries pursues her. A mix of apprehension and admiration courses through me as I watch her navigate the dangerous terrain with ease.
Jesus, she moves like a fucking cat!
I’d always admired the lean, toned muscles of her body; now I know how they got that way.
But the asshole on her tail fights dirty. Reaching for a nearby pulley, I watch him prepare to swing it at her. The heavy metal chain would take her out in a second.
“Scarlett!” I hear myself call before I realize I’m about to do it. The sound has her head swinging and she sees the thick chain an instant before it hits her. But instead of ducking, she snaps out a hand, grabs it, and hoists herself up. I watch in astonishment as she shins up the swinging pulley.
“Bozhe moy!”I shake my head in disbelief as she clambers higher into the girders. She’s out of the clutches of the bastard now, but as he reaches behind his shoulder, I know he’s about to skew the odds. The assault rifle in his hands is set to pepper the metal beams with lead and she’s about to chew some.
“Anton! Behind you!” It’s one of Scarlett’s men; Art, I think.
I don’t take time to look. I’m whipping out my pistol and taking aim overhead. The searing pain of a blade scores across my shoulder blades as my finger squeezes the trigger. I bite down to avoid flinching and missing my shot. I don’t miss. I never miss.
The bullet enters the side of the man’s head, but I don’t take time to watch his brains splatter because I’m already spinning to put another slug between the eyes of the fucker who just slashed me.
In the silence that follows, I realize that we’ve felled this latest onslaught. I turn to look up at Scarlett, who’s staring down at me from her position in the girders.
Our eyes meet for a moment, and it’s electric.
What a fucking woman!
Without a word, she slithers down a beam, skips across a board that’s high enough above my head to make my toes curl, then leaps down and lands lightly on her haunches beside me.
“Nice shooting,” she says under her breath as she straightens.
“What did you expect?” I’m still shaking my head in wonder. The amount of strength and agility it would take to do what she just did… It’s the sort of thing you don’t often see. “You move good,” is all I say because I can’t think of anything that could cover the extent of my admiration.
Not that there’s time for more.
A low whistle from nearby has the pair of us facing a shadow that solidifies and becomes Luka. A quick flick of his wrist shows me that there’s a clear path deeper into the site. If the blueprints are still accurate – and according to Scarlett’s team, they are – there are foundations being sunk closer to the center of the building. If I know Volkov, that’s exactly where the bastard will be.
In the bowels of the earth…where motherfuckers like him belong.
Luka steps up to me as we regroup. Art and Carl are at his side, the pair looking between Scarlett and me with steady expectation. Carl has a thick streak of blood across his face, and I suspect it’s not his own.
Her people can fight. I’m almost impressed.
“He’ll be near the core of the site.” I keep my voice low. “We move that way.” I aim a hand in the direction Luka had pointed out.
I sense a strange feeling of unity between us. Despite our differences we work together seamlessly, driven by a common goal. To save my son. I can only be grateful for that.
As we continue our silent approach, Scarlett points to an area partially hidden by large stacks of cement bags and wooden crates. The darkness provides us with enough cover to move undetected. My hand instinctively reaches out to touch the small of her back, guiding her as we creep forward. The warmth of her body beneath my fingertips sends a jolt of electricity through me, even amid the threats surrounding us.
“Stay close,” I warn her, my voice low and urgent.
She moves silently beside me, her skills as a cat burglar evident in her graceful steps. It’s clear she is just as invested in rescuing Nikolai as I am, and I can’t help but feel a surge of gratitude toward her.
But then, something in the atmosphere shifts. The pumping of blood in my veins becomes more intense. Decades of training has my senses go alert, screaming danger as we edge closer and closer to our destination.
