by Layne, Ivy
Turning my back on her was like cutting out a part of my soul, but I had to get back to Maxwell. I ransacked the gun safe and the shelves. A bulletproof vest for me. Another for Maxwell. Extra clips for my Walther. A weapon for my father.
I strapped a knife to my ankle, a backup weapon on the other side.
Taking the time to drop a brief kiss on Alice's mouth, I said, “Don't come out for anyone. Not until I get back.”
Stopping in the doorway for a second I didn't have, I couldn't resist adding, “I love you, Alice. Stay safe.”
The surprised flare of her eyes struck me right in the heart. I held it close as I locked the door, securing Alice and Petra behind four inches of steel.
When I returned, Maxwell was leaning against the island in the kitchen, feet steady, his face ashen. He was bleeding internally from the stab wound, but there wasn't much I could do about that until he got to the hospital.
“How close is he? Where did they get you?”
“Two blocks east. I don't know how far behind them Andrei was, but I'm guessing not far.”
My phone rang, and I stabbed a finger at the screen, putting Griffen on speakerphone. “Status.”
“Incoming. All over the fucking place.” His words were breathless, loud and then distant as if he was running while holding the phone. “Everyone stationed on the perimeter is down. I have two of Tsepov’s men on the cameras in the garage, headed for the elevator. Another in the stairwell. The two who got in from the street entrance are on their way up to you. I can't tell what they're carrying, but it's big, Cooper. Stay away from the fucking door. If it weren't for Alice and Petra I’d tell you to leave Maxwell and get the fuck out. I'm on my way.”
Griffen disconnected. I tossed the bulletproof vest at Maxwell. It wasn't great protection, but it was better than nothing. He managed to get it on, wincing as the movement pulled at the open wound in his stomach.
The FBI was on the way. Tsepov's men incoming. Nothing to do but wait until someone made a move.
We didn't have to wait long. Griffen had been right, Tsepov's men were carrying something big. A fucking acetylene torch. They'd used the same thing at Knox's house. Andrei’s boys liked their toys. I could only hope this crew was as badly trained as the ones who’d gone after Knox in Maine.
At the spark of the torch, Maxwell and I ducked, using the kitchen island as a shield. I couldn’t let them get past the kitchen. If they did, it would take time for that torch to breach my safe room door, but eventually, it would. If they took us down they’d have all the time they needed to get to Alice and Petra.
The torch cut through the steel of my door in minutes. It slammed open, Tsepov’s goons pouring through in a hail of gunfire, every bullet aimed straight ahead. They never looked to the side, never saw us crouching in the kitchen.
I raised my weapon. One shot from me, one from my father, and the first two dropped.
Too bad the guys after them weren't as stupid.
The clink of metal and a dark cylinder rolled across the floor. I dove for the back of the kitchen, expecting a flash-bang grenade. No sound, no light, but smoke filled the room, leaving me blind.
My father hadn’t been able to dodge with that knife wound in his gut. I thought I heard the rasp of his breathing beneath the pound of feet filling the room. I hoped I heard it.
The sound of footsteps died away. So much for stopping them here. I had no idea how many were inside or where that fucking torch was.
At the end of the island, through the haze of smoke, my father struggled to his feet, weapon in his right hand, held loosely behind his back.
A figure emerged through the smoke, tall and slender, elegant in a dark suit. Andrei Tsepov. He stood in the foyer flanked by two goons carrying AR-15’s, surveying the smoky chaos with the arrogance of a king.
Fuck. I didn’t want to see those AR-15’s
The lightweight semi-automatic rifles were overkill in these close quarters. Overkill and deadly as hell. Our protective equipment was the best available outside of the military, but it couldn’t stop a bullet from an AR-15.
If I did nothing else, I had to take down those two men.
Andrei stopped less than ten feet from my father. In his cultured, lightly accented voice, he said, “Maxwell. You think to betray me to your FBI? I never would've guessed you'd be so foolish.”
Dismissing Maxwell with a lift of his chin, he called to the men I couldn’t see through the smoke, “Search the place. Bring anyone you find to me.”
At least he hadn't told them to shoot on sight. I'd take whatever favors I could get.
Moving in a low crouch, weapon raised, I made my way around the kitchen island, staying out of sight. The island wouldn’t protect me from the AR-15’s any more than my vest would, but right now all eyes were on Maxwell. The further I got from him, the better. I couldn’t fire if I was caught in the crossfire.
“I fucked up,” my father said, bracing his free hand on the counter.
“You certainly did,” Andrei agreed. “Too many times, Maxwell. You stole from me. First the girl, then my money.”
“I can make it right, Andrei. Take your men and leave. I’ll come with you. Give you back the money. Give you more. As soon as we’re out of here. But we have to go. Now.”
What the fuck was Maxwell talking about? The FBI was on the way. We had to stall, not get rid of Tsepov and his men. Maxwell didn’t want to go to jail, but at this point, Agent Holley was his best bet.
I had no doubt that if he gave Andrei the money Maxwell wouldn’t live a moment longer than it took to transfer the funds.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Andrei Tsepov wasn’t buying my father’s promises.
“You think I’m that stupid, Maxwell? If you were going to give me back my money, you would have offered it when I killed the whore.”
“She wasn’t a whore,” Maxwell ground out.
Andrei’s flat, cold eyes betrayed nothing as he raised his hand and fired a single bullet. Maxwell staggered, the arm he’d braced on the counter folding as he tilted sideways.
My finger itched to squeeze the trigger of my own weapon. It took everything I had to hold my fire. I couldn’t take out both of the men with AR-15’s, and my first shot would give away my position. My father might let anger drive him into a deadly mistake.
I wouldn’t do the same. I couldn’t. Alice and Petra were depending on me.
“I assume you mean Mila,” Andrei continued conversationally as if he hadn’t just put a bullet in Maxwell’s arm. “She was a whore. Born and bred. First, she was mine. Then she was yours. Even in your hands, she remained my property. Which, as we both know, makes your pretty little girl my property as well.”
I clamped my teeth together to hold back the growl. Petra. He wasn’t just here for Maxwell, the sick fucker was here for Petra. She wasn’t fucking property. She was a child. A human being.
Petra was my baby sister. Mine to protect. To keep safe. I’d die before I let Andrei Tsepov lay eyes on her, much less take her away from us.
Never in my life had I genuinely wanted to end a life. Not until that moment. Andrei Tsepov deserved death. I wanted to be the one to deliver it.
It didn’t matter. Petra and Alice’s safety came first. There was still a chance to get out of this, but it had to be done right. One mistake and we’d all be dead.
Chapter Forty-One
Cooper
You’re too late,” Maxwell bluffed. “Cooper took the girl away after Lacey tried to kidnap her. They’re long gone by now.”
Another negligent flick of Tsepov’s wrist. Another shot to the arm that sent my father staggering before he slumped over the kitchen island.
“Lie. It’s a shame Lacey couldn’t get me the girl.” A lazy shrug. “It was worth a try. Your wife could be very accommodating when she wanted to be. If she wasn’t a
n addict I might have had more use for her.”
Maxwell’s breathing was ragged, but he kept his mouth shut.
“My men have been watching the building, Maxwell. I know the girl is here. They’ll find her and her pretty little keeper. Then we leave. All of us. You’ll give me the money and I’ll keep the woman and child as interest.”
“Not going to happen,” my father hissed.
“Or,” Andrei said, raising his weapon slowly and aiming it at Maxwell’s chest, “I kill you now, take the woman and child, and kill every one of your sons, their women, and your wife. Choose.”
I couldn’t let it register that he was talking about taking Alice. Couldn’t allow the threat to sink in. I had one job. To stop these men. If I could do that, I could save all of us.
I drew in a slow, deep breath. Alice. I wouldn’t lose Alice.
I’d wait for my opening, and I’d take it.
I’d get us out of this.
Get us out or die trying.
Maxwell forced himself mostly upright, the hand holding his weapon still tucked behind his back. He wasn’t fooling anyone, but at least he was still armed.
Don’t move, I silently warned. Don’t shoot. Hold the fucking line.
Maybe he heard my furious thoughts. Maybe it took everything he had to stay upright. Whatever the reason was, Maxwell didn’t move.
Tsepov waggled his gun at Maxwell. “Choose, or I choose for you.”
Maxwell cleared his throat. I shifted position, sliding an inch to the side, losing my cover just enough to put all three figures in the foyer in my sights.
A flash of movement at the door caught my eye.
Griffen. Coming in low, weapon raised, he took in the scene in an instant. His eyes met mine.
After over a decade of friendship and way too many hours together in the field, I didn’t have to say a word.
I drew a bead on the goon to Tsepov’s right. Griffen took the goon on the left. As one, we fired.
The goons dropped like stones and the world erupted in gunfire.
Tsepov pulled the trigger of his weapon over and over.
Shots from my left—Maxwell returning fire.
Pounding feet came down the hall, and a flood of goons erupted into the open space between the kitchen and foyer shooting at anything that moved.
A thud on the other side of the kitchen. A hammer blow to my chest. I fell back, sucking in a choked breath.
Relief as I realized my lungs were working. A regular bullet then. If one of the AR’s had hit me, I’d be drowning in my own blood by now.
I rolled, coming to my knees and looking through the kitchen and the foyer. Griffen was the only one on his feet, leaning against the wall on the far side of the foyer, a blossom of red spreading across his right shoulder.
Fuck. Fuck. The blood was spreading too fast. In the movies, a shoulder wound is no big deal. That’s bullshit. The shoulder has more than one major artery. A bullet in the wrong place can cause bleed-out in minutes.
Griffen sagged, sliding down the wall, a tide of blood staining his arm.
Fucking fuck.
I had to get an ambulance or he was going to die. My father was probably already gone.
More footsteps coming from the back of my apartment. On my feet, I raised my weapon, ready to make my last stand. I thought of Alice, prayed she was still locked in the safe room, that she’d be okay until the FBI could get her out.
I had time for the fleeting wish that I hadn’t waited so long to make her mine.
I love you, I thought, holding that love close as I aimed my Walther at the end of the hall and prepared to pull the trigger.
I fired once. Twice. Tsepov’s goons dropped, one after the other. Pounding footsteps from the hall outside. My heart sank. I was trapped in between, couldn’t take them all.
This was it. I was done.
Backing up, I retreated into the kitchen until I could see both the shattered front door and the rest of Tsepov’s men coming down the hall. My arms were steady as I kept my weapon raised, but my heart was hollow. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.
The remains of the front door flew back. I swung my weapon to the foyer, finger tightening on the trigger. What I saw froze me in place. At least a dozen bodies flooded through the door, fanning out the cover the room. More feet thundered in the hall.
“Drop your weapon and get your hands up.”
I’d never been so glad to see those familiar navy-blue vests, those bright yellow letters emblazoned on the front. FBI.
About fucking time. Dizzy with relief, I lay my weapon on the floor in front of my feet and raised my hands over my head.
Agent Holley entered just behind his initial team. With a disgusted look at me, he said, “How many?”
“I don’t know. They tossed a smoke bomb. I couldn’t count how many got past me before the air cleared.”
Agent Holley gave a brusque nod and sent half of his men to clear the rest of the apartment. Surveying the bodies on the floor, he shook his head. “Paramedics are downstairs.”
“You going to shoot me if I move? I need to check Griffen. I think that shot to his shoulder nicked an artery.”
Crouching beside Tsepov, Holley felt for a pulse, shaking his head again. “Fine. Go.”
I had a fleeting thought for my father. A better son would have checked him first. I wasn’t that man. My father had brought this on himself. Between the stab wound and the shots to his arm, he was beyond my help. Griffen was here out of loyalty. Out of friendship. I wouldn’t pay that back with death.
I eased him down to lay flat on the floor. There was too much blood. It had soaked into his shirt, his vest, so much that I couldn’t tell if he was bleeding heavily or bleeding out. I yanked off my vest and pulled my shirt over my head, folding it into a pad and pressing it into his shoulder. His eyes opened, clouded with pain and shock.
“Got hit, Coop.”
“Yeah, you did. Paramedics are coming up. Hold on for me.”
“You okay? Alice?”
“I’m fine. I’ll get Alice as soon as the paramedics get here.”
His breath coming fast, skin pale, he struggled to speak.
“Shut the fuck up. Just stay still and hold on.”
His head dropped back to the floor, eyes sliding shut, but he breathed, “Status?”
“Don’t fucking know. Looks like my dad is down. Tsepov and most of his guys are down.”
“Dead?” the word came out on a whisper.
“Maybe. Probably.”
I’d think about that in a minute. In this moment, for this breath and the next and the next, my only thought was to keep pressure on Griffen’s shoulder. To slow the flow of blood. To buy him another minute of life. Then another.
It was an eternity until I was pushed aside by the paramedics. They swarmed Griffen, stabilizing the wound with a pressure dressing before loading him on a gurney and racing for the door.
He disappeared from sight before I got to my feet. Turning, I saw a team leaning over Tsepov, another around my father. The team working on my father moved with urgency. The one by Tsepov, not so much.
Tsepov was dead.
Agent Holley had lost his target. He’d be pissed, but all I felt was relief. It was over, the cost of ending it far too high.
The paramedics with my father pushed his gurney through the door as quickly as they’d moved with Griffen. He was alive. For now. I wanted to follow them to the hospital. I couldn’t go. Not yet. Alice and Petra were here, along with the people I’d put on the perimeter. I had to secure the building and my people, get Alice and Petra out before I could go to the hospital. Time to call in the cavalry.
Agent Holley hung up the phone as I approached. “I sent two men to follow your father. You on your way?”
“As soon as I settle things h
ere. Griffen said I have people down outside.”
Holley gave a sober nod. “My team is securing the building, called more paramedics. So far, no fatalities, but two are critical.”
No fatalities was good. Better than I’d expected. “Alice and Petra—my little sister—are here. I need to get them somewhere safe.”
“Since when do you have a sister?” Holley asked, surprise chasing the somber expression from his face.
“Since my father showed up at my door with her tagging along. I’ll fill you in later. She’ll stay with Alice and me. I don’t want either of them to see this.”
“You have a safe room in here somewhere?” Holley asked. “I know it’s not at the end of the hall since the door Tsepov’s idiot men were cutting open leads to the back stairwell.”
Relief flooded through me. They’d had that torch back there for too long.
“Thank God. It’s more of a storage room than a safe room, but it was the best I could do on short notice. Of all the things I planned for, my father letting Tsepov in wasn’t on the list.”
Holley shook his head. With my father’s life hanging by a thin thread, neither of us wanted to say what we were thinking. He was a liar and a criminal, but he was still my father.
“I can free up two men if you can add one of yours,” Holley said. “Put Alice and the girl with your brother’s families. If they’re all in one place they’ll be easier to secure until we’re sure we got all of Tsepov’s people. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
“I’d appreciate the extra men. Until we know about Griffen and my father—”
“I know. Make your calls, we’ll get Alice and the girl out of here, and then you and your brothers can get to the hospital.” I was thinking about who to wake up first when he said, “I think Sawyer will pull through.”
“But not my father?” I couldn’t help asking.
Holley’s face was expressionless as he said, “He should have taken his chances with prison.”
My throat closed, I nodded in agreement. Fucking Maxwell. So determined not to spend a minute in jail, he’d almost killed us all. Raising my phone, I turned and headed for my bedroom. We weren’t coming back here for a while. Alice and Petra would need clothes. I grabbed one of Alice’s duffel bags and started to fill it from her side of the closet as I made my calls.