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Nothing for a heartbeat.
Nothing for two.
He woke underwater and only his training saved him. Dazed, he held onto his breath, waiting to feel his body kick back into gear. This was his environment and in it he was a SEAL through and through. He regained his equilibrium and started for the surface. Bullets flowed into the water, the velocity slowed by the heavy liquid. He swam deeper, then did a U-turn back to the yacht, its hull white and shining from the light of the moon. He surfaced close to the boat and heard the screams—screams of rage from Bree and fear from the Volkovs. Aleksei and Harley were unconscious, slung over two of the thugs’ backs. His mom and sister were being shoved into the chopper.
One of Anya’s goons had grabbed Bree and was dragging her toward the helicopter. He tried to swim, but lost motor control, floating underwater, the world starting to spin, stars streaking across his line of vision, bringing pain, the headache from hell.
He clawed at the hull, looking for a handhold, but it was too smooth. With agonizing effort, he used the flat of his hands to stabilize himself and pull himself back to the surface. He couldn’t drown here or give up. What would happen to Bree, the rest of the people defending the Volkovs, and the Volkovs?
Bodies were strewn across the two decks. Bree fought like a wild cat, and she ducked several blows, but the guy was bigger than she was. He picked her up and tossed her hard against the window. She hit with a sickening thud and dropped like a stone—but in a move of supreme athletic grace, she landed on the balls of her feet, conscious and ready to go.
She wasn’t giving up, not for a second. But he pleaded silently for her to surrender. There was no place for her in this, no safe place.
Her worried gaze went out into the ocean, searching for him, no doubt. Her mouth thinned out and her eyes flashed with pain and rage. She went at the guy, something gleaming in her hand, but he blocked her strike, backhanded her, then grabbed her around the neck.
This time she had no choice as he choked her out, threw her over his shoulder and headed for the chopper. Everyone else was already aboard.
Anya’s goon ducked inside with Bree, and he wanted to howl. He had to watch helplessly as the chopper lifted off the deck and headed north out to sea. An agony of fear and rage washed over him. Forcing breath into his lungs, he made his way to the back of the yacht. They would disable it and he couldn’t afford that. He had to stop them.
He pulled himself up, his strength returning. He’d lost his gun in the blast and fall, but he had his knife, and he had the will.
There was only win,onlywin, no other option, and he would win. Blitz moved in fast, holding the knife in a reverse edge grip, ready to do lethal damage. The first guy didn’t last long, a slash across his throat as he was heading down to the engine room. On the bridge, he caught the last guy, hellbent on the radio. Something alerted the bastard, possibly Blitz’s reflection in the windshield glass. He whirled, blocked Blitz’s strike, and punched him in the face, scrambling for his sidearm, but Blitz was back up, sinking the knife into his gut and jerking it up, eviscerating the bastard. He fell.
He called for a pickup. His one and only thought was to get to Olenska before he lost the only woman he had ever loved.
16
Bree stumbledalong the ship’s corridor, barely making it over the metal frame part of the hatch before the blond man with a scarred face pulled her unceremoniously and without care for her balance. Her head ached from the blow to her temple, and her hip throbbed where she was pressed against the railing.
The chopper had landed on this huge cargo vessel—theImperiya…She was now a hostage to Leonid Olenska and his sadistic daughter. They had exchanged words in the chopper, Anya shoving a gun in her face and threatening to blow her head off for killing her brother. But she hadn’t. She’d withdrawn into herself, and Bree figured she’d received orders from her old man to keep her alive.
But the biggest source of her pain came from not knowing what happened to Blitz. He’d been thrown overboard from the grenade this asshole had lobbed down to the deck Blitz had been on. She struggled against his grip, but he shook her and continued to drag her carelessly downward into the ship. She climbed down a ladder and walked some more corridors. Trying to keep her bearings to escape, she counted doors, but her focus kept shifting and going fuzzy on her from the blow to her head.
Outside the door, Scarface stopped. He searched her, then ran his hands over her breasts, her waist and hips. She kneed him in the nuts. He buckled. She glared down at him. There was no need to search her. They’d already taken her weapon and knife.
He straightened, and called her a bitch, then backhanded her across the face. She hit the wall and fell, her face exploding with burning pain.
“Asshole,” she muttered, rubbing her jaw. Her eyes watered. His smile made her uneasy as he grabbed her and pulled her off the floor.
“Now you die,” He opened the door and threw her inside. The door slammed shut. She looked around, still rubbing at her stinging cheek. It was a small cargo hold, one solitary bulb light that didn’t illuminate the corners filled with shadow, utterly empty and perfect for a jail cell. There wasn’t even a porthole to the outside.
She breathed deeply, fighting the chills rippling over her body from the icy cold. She’d been dressed for the Mediterranean and now she was somewhere in the North Sea located between the UK, Denmark, Norway, Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, and France. The sea was important for shipping lanes, a major fishery, and a rich source of wind and wave power. Just before they shoved her in the cargo hold, she could see land off the portside. Denmark maybe?
They would probably aid the US. Denmark was one of the original countries of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization formed in 1949 between the US, Canada, and several Western European nations to act as security against the then Soviet Union. But theImperiyawasn’t a military ship and there was no evidence, except from Aleksei, that there were missiles on board. Also, they were security against Russia, but would they help to stop an attack on the Kremlin and the KGB?
Her brain hurt and she’d have to leave politics and diplomacy up to Isabelle. She sank down to the floor, battered, bruised and so heartsick. She was going to choose to believe that Blitz was unbreakable and had survived the blast and the ocean. She was going to choose to believe that even now, her friends and coworkers were preparing for the final showdown with the Olenskas.
She was going to choose to believe that they were coming for her,he was coming for her. Her mouth curved, and working her tongue over her lip, she tasted blood. He’d saved her life twice, three times would be the charm. They would get here in time, and she would walk off this ship alive.
She wasn’t going to lose him. A sudden ache constricted her throat, mixing with fear and faith. She closed her eyes. Of course she was, not to death, but to the circumstances of their lives. He was right. She was going back to DC, and he was going back to San Diego after his deployment. She’d been given a promotion to leadership over the Fly Team. Ready at a moment’s notice, like the SEALs, going where they were needed. There was no way to make this work unless one of them compromised. That was a bitter pill to swallow. Her ambition was to go all the way to the top. How much would Bree be willing to sacrifice to get there? As much as her mom had sacrificed? She had her job at Micheal Kors, was financially well off, and worked all the time. She couldn’t even make room for her own daughter. She was so closed off emotionally. Did Bree want to end up like that?
She shivered violently, the cold seeping into her bones, the painful revelations adding to knock her off-kilter. Dragging her mind back from those sobering thoughts, Bree had to shore up her courage. Experiencing a flutter of dread, she knew this wasn’t even the beginning of what she would have to endure.
Her dread expanded. When Olenska dealt out his revenge, Bree was going to feel the full force of a ruthless, merciless beast. She could handle it. Shehadto handle it. All she had to do was survive until they came for her.
* * *
“Blitz, wait!”Zorro called. The team’s medic had been ministering to his cuts, all the way from the helicopter landing zone. The misery of acceptance started to sink in. They had Bree, his beautiful Bree. He had no doubt they were going to torture her, kill her if they hadn’t already.Hang on, babe. I’m coming for you.
