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“You mother—”
Dimitri Kozlov cuts me off, “Nikolai faked his death. He’s alive and took your wife. If you want to know where they are, then I need your promise—”
“You have it,” I say without hesitation. I’ll deal with Baron’s part of this oath later. “Where’s my wife?”
He gives me an address near the river, then hangs up. Deal done.
I text it to my driver up front, and then to Baron. The car jolts forward, and we’re off.
Do I have reason to suspect this could be a trap? Possibly. Though, as far as I know, there are no hard feelings between Dimitri and myself. He has no reason to kidnap Sophia either.
But Nikolai Kozlov… he has every reason to want to hurt her.
I can’t believe that piece of shit is still alive. I should have sent someone to the morgue to verify that it was his body dragged from the river, instead of taking the newspaper’s word for it. How fucking stupid could I be?
Kozlov’s alive. He has Sophia.
This time, I’m going to kill him.
* * *
Traffic is awful and by the time we pull up to an abandoned building, I’m ready to murder half of New York City just for being in my way. I channel all that rage into dealing with Kozlov. Before the car’s come to a full stop, I jump out, Ruger in hand.
Should I wait for Baron and backup? Yes.
Am I going to wait another second to rescue my wife? Absolutely not.
A quick check of the surrounding area shows it’s clear. Kozlov doesn’t have any men here, he’s so sure his stunt worked, and no one suspects he’s alive. I forgot to ask how his cousin found out.
The summer sun sets on the horizon, its warm glow in stark contrast to the cold determination in running in my veins.
Gun at the ready, I burst through the door.
Kozlov has my wife bent over the back of a chair. Skirt up around her waist. Wrists bound.
He holds a knife to the back of her neck with one hand, while he fumbles with his belt.
I see red. The fury that sweeps through me is strong enough to set my skin ablaze and melt my bones. My frozen heart shatters into a million pieces. If I’d arrived even ten seconds later…
Not so long ago, I was determined to draw out Kozlov’s death, to make him suffer before giving him the mercy of death. Now I need him dead. I need his hands off my wife. His dick flaccid.
Most of all, I need her safely in my arms where she belongs.
I don’t hesitate. I shoot him in the head—twice—then again in the chest. When he doesn’t immediately collapse, I advance on him, popping off three more shots until he finally crumples to the floor.
Sophia lifts her head, her bruised face curtained by her tangled, blood-crusted hair.
“Behind you!”
Her warning comes in time for me to spin around. A bullet grazes my arm.
I put two rounds into the behemoth coming at me, and he drops to his knees. One more to the head and he falls sideways, bleeding out on the filthy concrete floor.
I do a full sweep of the massive space, peering into the shadows to make sure no one else is hiding in them. Once I’m certain we’re alone, I go to Sophia and take her gently in my arms.
It requires all my self-restraint to not crush her body to mine. All I want to do is kiss her, hug her tight, and reassure myself that she’s really here, alive. But I hold back.
First, I holster my gun, then I untie her wrists. Helping her stand upright, I brush her hair away from her face to take in the damage. Her lip is cut and bleeding. More blood crusts one side of her head. Bruises are already darkening her cheek and jaw.
