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“What’s happening?” I ask, my eyes wide.
He doesn’t tell me, just shuts the door and leaves me to hide. I’m not sure what I should feel, hope, or fear. Is it Scotty, or another enemy? God, or maybe it’s the other Vasilievs. Corbin’s friend, Jericho.
I don’t let hope in. It’s a luxury I can’t afford right now.
My heart stops when consecutive gunshots ring out. They’re close, but I can’t see anything stuffed in this stupid closet, or pantry. Whatever the fuck it is.
“One in the kitchen. Not a threat.” A distinct female voice says. She commands the woman in Russian, who mutters something back. Dishes clatter, and I debate showing myself.
Corbin says Yuliya is a friend. But how can I be so sure right now? We bonded over a bathroom sink while I stole a hair tie from her. I don’t know her or her intentions.
Though, whatever they are, she’s got to be the safer bet than staying with Fyodor.
I shove open the door, stumbling out. A flash of blonde hair shoots from the corner of my eye, and I fall, too dizzy to get my bearings.
“Jesus,” Yuliya mutters. “I’ve got her.”
She drops to her knees in front of me. “You good?”
No, I’m not good! I want to yell it, but I’m too weak. My body’s been on high alert for far too long, and it’s just shutting down.
“Taking her to the getaway car.” She huffs, shaking her head while she helps me up. “Saoirse, tell Burne you’re okay, so he stops crying in my ear.”
A lump forms in my throat. I grip onto her shoulder, mustering up the strength to get my feet working. “Frog? Ask him where Frog is.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Thepressureinmychest dissipates when I catch the sound of her voice in my earpiece. Then, a gargled laugh escapes when my brain catches up. Of course she asked about the cat first. Why would she ask about me or Finn? That wouldn’t be the first thing on her mind. Helpless animals first, before the capable bad guys with guns.
I caught the man from Saoirse’s camera feed. The one that punched her in the face, that yanked her by her hair after he knocked her out, and dragged her along broken glass, to this mansion.
I grin, despite the red hot anger the memory causes.Yeah. This one will be slow.
“Don’t let her know about the cat,” I say.Not yet. Not until I see her, feel her, hold her. Not until I know she’s okay and able to hear that he’s missing without breaking down.
Corbin groans beside me. He’s kneeling over a corpse, pulling out the dagger between his eyes.
Yuliya ignores my request, her usual clipped tone softer as she speaks to Saoirse. “He was spooked. Haley put out some food and a litter box. He’ll be back when things quiet down.”
Saoirse’s sobs come through a flurry of radio static.
“Let me talk to her,” I say.
There’s rustling, and then her sobs are clearer. Corbin rips out his own earpiece, then wipes the blood on the knife on the shirt of the dead guy.
“Saoirse. You okay?” I ask.
She sniffles, collecting herself. My strong girl. Pain and fear shoved aside, courage is pushed to the forefront. She’s always been good at that, at composing herself unless it’s just me and her there.
“I’m not,” she says, her voice broken. “Jaime, please. Come get me.”
“I’ll be there as soon as we find Vlad. Go with Yuliya, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Vlad isn’t here. He left.”
“Fuck.” I turn to Corbin. “Saoirse says he isn’t here.”
The scum bag I’ve been holding chuckles, which results in Corbin coming toward us, and yanking him from my grip. He punches him once, twice, again in the same eye. The same one Saoirse was hit in. With each hit, the man groans until his head finally lolls forward.
