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Damn it, she missed her chance to catch him with one hand busy, but when he tells her to put her hands up, she gives me a little smile as I watch from my crouched position on the floor, just waiting for one chance to overtake him without getting her cut. Once that knife comes away from her throat, that bastard won’t have a chance in hell of making it off this boat alive, because no one puts hands on Marenah.
As soon as her hands go up, the captain places them on the top of her head and gestures for Scottie, Nate, and Dereck to stay on the far side of the room and kicks the gun across the floor. Once he does, he relaxes, spinning Marenah. Glaring at her. “You were given one assignment, keep tabs, not anything else, nothing! If you had kept your damn nose where it belonged, we would have been on our way and no one would have had any proof. Now you leave me no choice. You’ve seen too much. Say goodbye to your friends, and I’ll let Interpol know that you died putting up a good fight for their cause,” he says at the precise moment both of her hands come down hard, driving the razor comb set deep into both sides of his neck, opening his carotid, while her knee connects with his groin. His hands go first to his neck, grasping and gargling as he stumbles backward to the desk, and then begins to slump onto the floor.
“You just make sure you tell them who won,” she says, walking around the desk and opening it, taking out a plastic bag before grabbing the knife that has dropped to the floor and placing it into the bag. She walks over and hands that to Scottie.
“Nice work, Lass,” he says, taking it from her.
“Damn girl, you could rival Dereck here with those kung fu knife moves,” Nate says, and Dereck nods.
“Impressive work,” he concurs and nods toward me.
She was the one to walk away, and I’m not letting her do it again. I’ve made my decision: she means more to me than anything else. I stride toward her, and she is about to say something, but I take her in my arms and caress her neck, the creamy beautiful neck that could have been forever marred or worse, been sliced to still her beating heart. The thought alone sends a shiver down my spine. The very notion of her not being with me does the very same thing. I press one finger to her lips and bring her to me, capturing her lips with my own, holding the length of her body with my own.
I keep her pressed against me this way until the sound of the helicopter landing brings us back to the fact that Scottie’s not through with the mission at hand. “Let’s get the jackets and hats,” Scottie says, gesturing to the men on the floor.
Marenah and I gather our weapons and the walkie-talkies, handing them to Dereck and Nate as they finish dressing in the black gear the men were wearing.
“Hands behind your back everyone,” Nate says as the two lead us out of the cabin and up to the top deck. The wind is whirling around, and when Dereck and Nate urge us into the chopper and we are in our seats, the pilot radios that they’re bringing back prisoners, but the Russian voice that replies causes the blood to drain from Marenah’s face.
27
MARENAH
When I hearthe voice of my grandfather’s right-hand man, the son of his best friend and second-in-command of the largest Bratva family in Russia, I cringe, because he’s giving the instructions himself, and they are clear: take us to the nearest drop point. This man will take over when my grandfather is ready to pass the baton, and while it’s never been a contract as in some families, my grandfather’s desire for either myself or Sasha to marry this man has always been known. I glance at Matt, Dereck, Scottie, and then Nate, but no one moves a muscle, keeping their eyes on the pilot and the destination.
“How much longer?” Dereck says.
“Why so anxious?” the pilot says.
“Get us there faster,” is all Dereck says.
“I’ll drop us in on the front side and have the guys take the packages inside,” the pilot says overhead, letting us know that we’ve got company when we land.
I open my palm and begin to draw out the letters to spell Bratva, and as soon as I get to V, Matt nods, turning his attention to the pilot and Scottie sitting in the front.
I do a mental check of the weapons we took back after the last encounter. A small gun tucked in my cleavage, a Glock in my back holster, and my knives of choice firmly placed back in my hair. Matt and Scottie are packing Glocks, and each has a gun on both calves.
The pilot begins the descent as we fly over the North Atlantic Coast, and a mansion comes into view. As we get closer my stomach dips. While I have never been here, I know exactly where we are. I’ve seen the pictures, one of the many homes of the Bratva, prestigious and always right out in the open as to throw a middle finger up at the rest of the world. Fuck you, catch us if you can!
When we land, the pilot turns from his seat and gives us all a once over and opens the door before gesturing for us to do the same. Dereck and Nate do a good job of keeping the charade of us in capture as they pull us down and onto the deck below.
The pilot jumps down last and walks past us and toward the man that I’ve known for a lifetime. “I’ve been instructed to hand the prisoners over to you. We couldn’t make the shipment work. Thiscykagot in the way, everything for naught,” he says, backhanding me across the face after calling me a bitch in my own tongue. I reel with the force, and as I look up, Matt has him in a headlock and is no doubt about to squeeze the life out of him—when Kroskov aims his gun and pulls the trigger.
I scream as Matt and the pilot go down, and rush to Matt’s side as Dereck, Nate, and Scottie draw on Kroskov. Matt pushes back against the pavement, shoving the shot pilot from atop his body, and stands up, scrutinizing the scene playing out before us as he comes to stand beside me. “I’m not hit, Marenah,” he says, holding me close as my body trembles with the fear of almost losing him and what’s yet to come.
Kroskov walks toward us, his gun to his side as the guys relax theirs as well. “Marenah, your grandfather sent me. He’s had word from Giovanni Larussio that you were in harm’s way and asked me to assist. I came myself when I learned of the situation and how brave you were. There were two more men in the house awaiting your arrival, and they’ve been dealt with,” he says.
Matt walks up to Kroskov and extends his hand. “Thank you for what you did for Marenah.”
Kroskov looks him up and down, a towering bald-headed, tattooed, and formidable Russian. “Yah, it is done. Now, I need a private word with Marenah,” he says, and I lay a hand on Matt’s shoulder as I sense him tense beside me.
“It’s okay, he is a friend of the family. If he were going to kill me, it would be done,” I say, walking alongside the giant until we reach the front of the mansion.
“Let’s go inside while they clean up the mess,” Kroskov says, opening the door for me and guiding me into the great room where he picks up a decanter, pouring us each a shot of vodka.
“Drink in celebration. You have done much good tonight, Marenah, but there is much you don’t know and, this thing, we must clear the air between us.”
“I knew Grandfather was having me followed, but thought I got rid of the trails.”
