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“He’s never in one place.”
Blitz didn’t say anything, just pulled out his sidearm and screwed on the suppressor. The man swallowed hard. Blitz pointed the weapon down, crossed his hand over his wrist, and waited.
Emotions, fear, and desperation raced across the man’s expression. “He’ll kill me and my whole family.”
“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll let you go.” The fear receded, and a sly look replaced it.
“He’s on a cargo ship, theImperiya, retrofitted to accommodate him in anything he needs. It’s a floating fortress.”
“What are his plans for the missiles? Who is his target?”
“I don’t know.” Blitz shifted and the guy held up his hands. “I swear. I’m just a foot soldier. That’s all I know.”
The shot was quiet in the dark meadow. Blitz unscrewed his suppressor and stowed it in his vest, then holstered the sidearm at the small of his back. He crouched and cut the man’s bonds and dropped the guy’s weapon near him, then walked away. His fate was much more merciful than what his buddies had planned for Bree. The moment he reached a phone, he would have had the whole of Moscow looking for them. That threat was neutralized.
When he settled in the driver’s seat, Bree stared out of the window. She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t offer up any details. Best to leave it be.
He started the engine and pulled the vehicle back onto the road.
“Do you…does that—”
“Keep me up at night?” Blitz finished for her.
“Yes,” she said.
He was a warrior, not a sociopath, part of the two percent of the male population who was capable of levelheaded participation in combat without psychological ramifications. Taking a life was never commonplace, but he never hesitated when it came to eliminating his enemy. The act would protect them both, they could get back to Niger and report to Isabelle what they had found out.
This would give them an advantage.
Maybe Volkov knew more information than he was saying, playing his cards close to the vest. Friend or foe? Survivor? Traitor to his country? Maybe the Russian was all those things, but if it hadn’t been for him sending them to Moscow to extract his mom and sister, they wouldn’t have this information.
He reached out and squeezed her hand. He pressed his tired body into the back of the seat. “No. It doesn’t keep me up at night.”
She nodded, accepting what was. She turned to look at him with nothing but gratitude and determination in her eyes. Buck had been right. Bree was a SEAL babe. She was cut from the same cloth as he and his brothers. She squeezed his hand back. He didn’t want to examine why she was so deep under his skin. He always went casual, kept it light, held back. He’d never had too many problems with getting those casual relationships. He attributed it to his sisters, each with an opinion she had to share. They taught him early that pleasing most women was simple, and he had mastered making a woman feel special even if it was just for the moment. But Bree wasn’t simple at all. She was unique and special all on her own. He felt almost raw around her, and it was damn hard to focus when her smile took his breath away.
Back there when he thought he had lost her, he’d experienced emotions so caveman primitive it scared him. The urge to shelter, protect her had propelled him into battle. His sisters showed him strong women were resilient, often a damn sight more than men. Bree was that woman, who cared deeply about the people caught between terror and their innocent lives.
“I know where we can go to lay low so we can refuel, rest, and plan how to get out of here. It’s not without risk and may be a longshot at best.”
He grinned, running his hand through her hair, glancing over as the strands sifted through his fingers. He had been scared for her, but also scared for himself. Losing her wasn’t an option, but he needed to get a handle on his need to protect and take her away from danger. Besides, she wouldn’t allow it as she had already demonstrated. “Tell me where to go.”
She inhaled and breathed deeply, overcome that he trusted her implicitly, no doubt. He smiled at her, and she smiled back at him.
They ditched the car on the outskirts of the city and walked for a while until they came up on a large estate tucked back off the sidewalk, surrounded by wrought iron fencing and gates.
Bree took his hand and walked around to the side entrance. At the gate, she took a hard breath. “Be ready to run,” she whispered. She pressed in a code and between one breath and the next, the gate opened, the security light blinking green. “So far, so good.”
She walked toward the luxurious house with carefully landscaped gardens until they reached a door with another security code. She punched in the number again and the light once again went green. “I can’t believe she never changed it,” she murmured. Ducking inside, he followed, closing the door softly behind him.
They crossed the large kitchen into a foyer where lights exploded and several armed guards surrounded them, automatic rifles clicking in unison. Several men shouted in Russian. Blitz raised his hands, but Bree called out, “Sofiya!”
There was utter silence then a voice rang out, speaking rapid Russian. Blitz only caught the name, Breebree.
A beautiful blonde rapidly descended the stairs, squealing. She ran into the foyer, her pink filmy robe swirling around her. She threw her arms around Bree, and they hugged for several moments.
The woman raised her head and glared at her guards. She made a shooing motion and when they didn’t move, she said, “Go away. You’re not needed.”
Finally, to Blitz’s relief, the guns lowered, and the men dispersed. “Bree, what are you doing here?” She eyed Blitz, her eyes raking over him. “And with your very handsome escort.”
