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Finn
The kid who has been driving me around Russia for the last several hours is greener than a hill in Ireland after excessive rains. There were a few times when I worried he’d piss his pants at some of the hotshots I met. People don’t mess around in Russian politics without consequences. Thanks to Hagen, I got facetime with important senior officials. Even if Hagen was a total dick on the phone, he gave me decent leads. Two favors to him is bad business, but I’ll deal with that when he tries to cash them.
“Hey, kid.” I lean forward from the backseat to yell over the music he thinks keeps him calm.
We’ve spent the day together, and I haven’t bothered to ask his name. There’s no spark of promise in him. The desire for this life is the money, not the danger, not the violence. He’s nothing like me.
He turns the dial on the stereo, and his gaze catches mine in the rearview mirror.
“We’re headed to the house. You got no reason to shit your pants, so keep the music low, will ya?” I ease into my seat. “Your incoherent racket is giving me a headache.”
“Sorry, boss.” His English is heavily accented.
I thought we brought our security from Switzerland, but Jay must have picked up a couple of Russian kids at the airport when I demanded more muscle. He came in handy a few times when those Russian asshats tried to talk behind my back.
My lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. All day he’s been calling me boss. Technically I’m not the one signing his cheques, but it’s so good to be in charge. To be leading the charge.
Out the window, the scenery around Volgograd races by us, eaten up by the car, by the darkness in the middle of the night. I hoped to return earlier, instead it’s almost three in the morning. Jay better be camped out at Carys’s door, or he’ll experience my wrath whether or not Carys likes it.
“Uh, boss?” The kid says, as the car slows.
I meet his gaze in the mirror.
“The house is dark, sir.”
“And that’s weird because...?”
“The house has security lights. They aren’t on.”
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I try to remember what the property was like a few days ago when we drove up. He’s right. There were a few guards at the entrance, and the place was lit up around the perimeter. There’s not a single light. If the kid hadn’t told me we were nearing the house, I wouldn’t have a clue.
“Park here. We’ll enter on foot. Your gun loaded?”
His hand shakes when he picks up his weapon from the passenger seat.
Christ. He’s going to be no fucking good to me. “Don’t shut the car door when we get out. We’ll leave them open, so the slam doesn’t tip anyone off. Stay behind me. Avoid making any noise.”
“When do I shoot, boss?” His voice wavers.
“Not until I do and not when you’re behind my fucking head. You got me? You don’t fire on anyone first.”
Once I’m out of the car, I try to forget he’s following. There’s no way he’s going to be worth anything to me in the next few minutes. It doesn’t take long for us to come across our first body. One of the original security guys Eric and Charles had with them lies with his face in the grass. We keep moving forward, body after body.
The kid whimpers behind me.
When we get to the front door, thrown open, my heart is in my throat. So far no one is alive. If Carys is injured or worse, I’ll hunt the people who did this, pound a stake into the ground, nail them to it, and light them on fire.
Back from the entrance, I turn to the kid. “Keep your gun in your hand. Search the perimeter. You find anyone alive, you come to the front door and wait for me. You don’t shoot anyone unless I give you the order.”
I will him to meet my gaze, but he doesn’t. He’s is in shock, but he’s not getting an ounce of sympathy from me. This is the life we live, the sooner he knows this path is not for him, the more likely he is to remain alive.
“O—O—O—kay.”
Carys would find his sudden stutter endearing, but it pisses me off. He’s my only backup, and he’s fucking useless.
Checking my gun one last time, I consider using my phone as a flashlight. Everything is pitch black. At least I’m dressed in dark colors, too. Harder to see. Harder to shoot. Instead of taking out my phone, I slip into the house.
There are two or three men dead in the main living room. None of them are guys I recognize. Doesn’t mean much since I barely knew the security detail we hired. I left that up to Jay. Leaning down, I touch the neck of the nearest man. He’s warm. Relief and fury surge through me in equal measures. If Carys is here somewhere, hurt, she could be saved. I’ll give up the rest of my nine lives to save hers. My chest and throat are so tight I can hardly breathe. Wherever she is, I will find her.
My gun up, I sweep every hiding place on the main floor. I explore the kitchen at the rear. When I start up the stairs, a figure is sprawled on the landing. My heart kicks in my chest. A woman’s outline. Taking them two at a time, careful to avoid the creaks I discovered earlier, my breath leaves me in a whoosh. Galina.
I don’t stop to check for a pulse but continue toward Carys’s room. Her door is ajar, and I keep my gun raised in front of me as I open it with my fingers. It’s empty. I examine the whole room and en suite as quickly as I can. Her purse is on a chair, and her phone is charging by the window. Both are like bright, neon signs telling me wherever she is now, she was in danger earlier—might still be in danger. She wouldn’t leave those items behind by choice.
Without giving myself time to consider where she might be, who might have taken her, I go through the rest of the rooms on the second floor. They’re empty. No Lucas. No Jay. No Carys. No more bodies.
Just outside her room, I peer at Galina’s dead body sprawled near the top of the stairs. Where are you, Carys?
Basement.
Whoever was on the property seems to have cleared out, so I don’t bother to keep quiet as I take the stairs. I clutch my gun as I make my way to the middle of the house and the narrow stairway just off the living room that leads to the basement. In no time I’ve searched everywhere and come up empty-handed. At the bottom of the stairs, I examine the layout of the basement again. I’m missing something, but I can’t put my finger on what’s making my senses tingle. Pinning down the feeling is a waste of time.
What if they tried to run? What if they’re outside somewhere? So many bodies.
My stomach has never been weak, but it rolls once at the thought of her scared, alone. From an early age, I learned to control my emotions, to quiet my natural sense of unease when I’m on the hunt. But right now, knowing she is most likely in danger, anxiousness is a vise around my heart, squeezing it so tight I’m not sure it’ll recover. Her name is a drumbeat against my soul. Finding her is my central focus.
When I get to the front door, I lead with my gun.
“Boss,” the kid hisses when I step out.
At the sound of his voice, my shoulders relax. “What’d you find?”
“I got a guy, alive. Barely, but alive.”
“Take me to him.” I motion for him to lead the way. “Any female bodies?”
“Ms. Van de Berg isn’t out here, boss.”
Thank fuck for that.
“Jay?”
“Didn’t come across him either.”
Maybe they got away. But seeing the carnage here, their escape seems so unlikely. Did whoever came take them to hold as ransom or as a bargaining chip for a bigger game?
“The house is clear?” The kid asks as his head shifts around, his hand still shaking.
“Yeah.” I follow him to a tall figure lying face up on the ground.
“He’s coming in and out. Kept asking for Ms. Van de Berg when I could get him to look at me.”
The body sends a wave of satisfaction over me. Eric’s face is swollen so much he’s almost unrecognizable. His clothes are torn, and in places blood is oozing out of him. Whoever was here, they spent time to work him over. I would have paid good money to watch that.
Demid? That’s the only person who makes sense. But it also means Lucas was probably a target, and by extension, Carys. If she is hurt, there is nowhere in the world Demid will be able to hide from me. I’ll hunt him and flay him open.
“Did he say who did this?”
“No.” The kid shakes his head. “Just keeps saying, ‘Carys’ over and over.”
“I need you to go search the bodies again for Tom or Jay. Check everyone. Even the bodies of the people you don’t recognize. I want to know if anyone has orders on them,—hints, clues, tips, anything. We need a lead.”
“Got it.” The kid hesitates for a minute. “Police?”
“No.”
He nods and sets off toward the side of the house. I stare at Eric and then I crouch, shaking his shoulder, digging my thumb into a nasty wound.
He groans and turns glassy eyes in my direction. “Carys,” he murmurs.
Anger spikes at him daring to say her name. This whole situation is his damn fault. “Who did this?” His head lolls to the side, and I slap his cheek to get him to focus on me again.
“Tell,” he breathes out. “Carys.”
“Who did this?” I grip his chin, forcing him to look at me.
His breathing is labored, and each breath appears almost painful. If he was anyone else, I might feel a tad sorry for the fucker. “Where is Carys? Do you know where she is?”
“Tell.” He coughs and sputters. “Carys.”
“Boss,” the kid calls, from far away. “I think I got something, maybe.”
“Meet me at the door.” I gaze at Eric and grip his chin tighter, and I mutter, “I gotta put a dog down first.” I cross to another man and snatch up his abandoned gun. After checking to make sure it’ll still fire, I stand over Eric. I point my weapon. “In some ways this is too good for you.”
“Carys,” he mutters. “Tell her—”
Before he can finish, I fire two bullets into his chest and one to his forehead. Using the bottom of my shirt, I wipe my prints off the gun and let it fall to the ground beside him.
With a last appraisal of his still, mutilated body, I say, “I won’t be telling her anything.”