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My heart slams against my ribcage. “Are you sure? Which way did they go?”
Eva nods, slow and unsure of me but certain of her information. “I… I thought it was strange to see them here… They were taken that way.” She points to a cluster of containers across the main walkway and deeper in the shadows of the depot.
Of course.
“Can you walk?” Tolya asks, his whole demeanor still strangely gentle. When her face turns bright red and she looks away in shame, neither of us need her to explain why. He scoops her up into his arms and gestures with his head to the container next to us.
I sigh again.
We do not have time for this. At all. But we also aren’t assholes who leave victims to their own fates. Not when we can help it.
Pavel and I cover Tolya as he carries Eva out of the blood-soaked crevice and ducks over into a cleaner spot on the other side of the container. He sets her down carefully, cups her face in his hand for the briefest of moments, then straightens and rejoins us.
He looks at me and scowls when he sees me watching. “What?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
Tolya sniffs and grabs his gun, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Let’s go find your woman.”
50
DEMYEN
We make our way across the forklift road toward the darkened section Eva indicated. No one voices any concern, but I won’t be surprised if each of us is wondering if her information is accurate. Or trustworthy.
She may not be Yakuza, but we’re not exactly the Peace Corps.
And yet on we go. Fear fucks up the mind. It pushes us to do stupid shit.
We hear banging. It’s sporadic, with no set pattern, but it sounds like a hollow clang of metal against metal coming from inside one of the containers.
Please, God. No.
Not like this.
I move faster. Pray for another sound to guide us to her, but also pray that whatever I’m hearing has nothing to do with her. That Martin isn’t in the middle of beating her to death.
That I haven’t already lost her.
We round a corner, guns ready. My body smacks into someone else.
Pavel yanks me out of the way seconds before a crowbar would’ve lobbed my head clean off. I duck and ready myself to block it on the follow-up swing… but it never comes.
Because it’s Clara.
She stands there, eyes wide and mouth gaping at me. Her chest heaves with exertion and what is undoubtedly adrenaline, because she’s covered head to toe with blood spray and a smattering of darkening bruises.
“Demyen?”
I grab the crowbar to tug her to me. I don’t care that she tastes like blood—she’s alive, she’s here, and she’s in my arms. I crush her lips with mine and sweep my tongue in a longing, grateful caress along hers becausemy God,I am so relieved to find her.
Someone clears their throat behind me.
I don’t fucking care. I’ll shoot the next man who tries to interrupt me reuniting with my woman.
Clara clings to me just as tight. She trembles in my arms but I know, somehow I can just feel, it’s not from fear. She’s just as relieved as I am.
I wrench my mouth from hers only so I can kiss her eyes and brow and hold her to my chest like I was so scared I wasn’t going to be able to do it ever again.
