But Daniel killed Yury. At least there’s that.
And now this one is backtracking.
I look at the big blond man’s face. He’s waiting, still kneeling on the floor and staring straight ahead. It’s like he expects me to change my mind and say oh yes, actually, I do feel like beating you. Like he expects me to pick up the belt and go to town on him suddenly.
Like he expects me to sink to their level.
I won’t.
“So I wasn’t supposed to go on sale?” My voice is dull, even to my own ears. “That’s a big fucking mistake to happen, don’t you think?”
Daniel’s hand brushes my cheek. “You okay?”
Instinct tells me to push him away, to protect myself, but for the first time in a long time, I ignore it and lean into his touch. If I can’t trust Daniel, I have nothing. “I’m okay.”
“You must have restitution,” the blond man says, interrupting us.
I look over at him, and he hasn’t moved. His face—harder and somehow crueler than Daniel’s ever could be—is impassive. He’s still waiting.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“I am Vasily Petrovich of the Petrovich Bratva,” he rattles off. His voice is one of the deepest I have ever heard, his accent slight but familiar—and hated.
“Well, Vasily . . .” I think for a moment. I look over at Daniel, and he looks as uncomfortable as me at Vasily’s display. “I forgive you.”
The big Russian stiffens. “You cannot forgive me without recompense.”
“Nope,” I say, denying him what he wants. “I forgive you. Let’s move on.” I don’t mean it, of course, but I know that it’ll be a bigger mindfuck to him than me taking the belt and whipping him. I’m guessing pain makes more sense to him than mercy, but it’s not mercy I’m offering, not really. I’m dicking with his mind. I don’t even feel guilty about it.
Vasily doesn’t move.
I get up from my seat and stand in front of the big, frightening Russian who is still kneeling on the ground, waiting for a beating that’s never going to arrive. Instead, I stick my hand into his face. “Shake on it? We can start fresh from here.”
He recoils from my hand, which surprises me.
Daniel moves forward then, tugging me away. Maybe he’s guessed my game and doesn’t approve. I don’t blame him—it’s a bit like teasing a wounded bear. “Vasily’s not a handshaker,” he says to me. “Doesn’t like to be touched.”
“Oh.” Oh, the ammunition this gives me. “All right,” I say sweetly. I won’t forget this little nugget of information.
Daniel moves to the far side of the bed and picks up his gun, checking the clip and beginning to arm himself all over again. He casts a quick glance at Vasily, who hasn’t moved, and exasperation crosses his face.
“Get up, man,” he tells Vasily. “You’re weirding me the fuck out. Regan doesn’t want to beat you.”
Vasily looks rather disgruntled, which makes me happy. Slowly, he gets to his feet and returns to his full height. Daniel is tall, but this man is a giant. I’d forgotten he was so big and scary. And he wanted me to whip him? Strange man. I edge a little closer to Daniel, heading for my own gun, but Daniel pulls it out of my reach before I can grab it. He only raises an eyebrow at me, as if asking who I intend to shoot.
I roll my eyes and drag on his arm so I can pull the gun from his hands. “I’m not going to shoot anymore,” I mutter, making sure the safety is on before I stuff it into my belt. The silencer attached to the barrel feels like it’s sticking into my hip, but I don’t care.
Vasily looks over at me one more time and then picks up his belt. He considers it then slowly begins to thread it through his pant loops.
“Fuckin’ freak,” Daniel says to him, but his voice is easy, almost affectionate. “Put your damn shirt on, and tell me how you found us.”
“I put a tail on you once I found out you did not dump the girl at the embassy,” Vasily says. As he pulls it through the loops, his shoulders twist, and I realize what I should have realized all along—Vasily’s back is one massive length of scars.
Mine would not be the first beating, and—judging by his attitude—it wouldn’t be the last. Okay then.
“A tail? Thanks a fucking lot for all the trust.”
“I trust no one right now,” Vasily says in thickly accented English. “My own Bratva is rotten from the inside. The best hit man I know has defected to go live in the states with a woman. I had my uncle murdered because he could not be trusted. Nyet, comrade, I do not trust anyone at the moment.”
Daniel snorts and swaps a clip out on one of his guns. “Figures. You had to show up now, though?” He sounds disgruntled. “Regan and I were busy.”
“That is obvious,” Vasily says in that cold, deep voice. Then he barks something in Russian that I don’t understand.
“Fuck off,” Daniel says, and he tenses under my arms. “And speak in English. It’s damn rude.”
Vasily’s eyes are cold. His gaze flicks over me, then dismisses me as if I am nothing and returns to Daniel. “You were supposed to send her back to Nick.”
“I didn’t.”
“My plans do not involve dragging along a woman.”
“Change them.”
Vasily’s glare is so ominous that it makes me anxious.
“You would put her in danger simply because you wish an easy fuck, comrade?”
Now that’s hitting below the belt. Daniel’s practically vibrating with tension, and I am guessing that Vasily’s deliberately being a jackass to try and get his way. Or he’s really that much of a jackass. Either way, it’s a sore spot with Daniel. I wait for him to point out that I wouldn’t go to the embassy on my own, to place the blame on me.
“She stays, so figure something out.” And he sits down on the edge of the bed and drags me against him.
I lean in and press my breasts to the side of Daniel’s face as I cling to him, feeling smug and powerful and not a little bit turned on. He’s on my side. He could sell me out to Vasily, who he apparently knows and has worked with for a while, but he’s protecting my secrets.
And that makes me want to throw him down and fuck him all over again. Funny how someone loyal who protects me is such an aphrodisiac.
Vasily is watching me with such an expression of distaste that I suddenly feel dirty again. What, does he think I’m not good enough for Daniel anymore? Because I’m a dirty whore?
I wait for him to say something, but he only pulls an undershirt over his head. Enormous muscles flex as he does so. Then he takes his dress shirt off of the bed and begins to button it with slow, careful fingers.
“What is so important that this couldn’t wait a few more hours?” Daniel wants to know.
“I asked someone to come to Rio and get Hudson’s hacker. He says to me, ‘Yes, I will get hacker and do favor for Nick.’ Now, I see Nick’s favor has been done and my hacker is nowhere to be found.” Vasily’s face looks like stone. “And you wonder why I do not trust.”
“Fuck off, man. I was getting to it. We’ve sort of been busy for the last few days getting our asses shot at. There’s more going on with Regan than we planned for. She’s got some shitbag hot on her trail, and someone killed my snitch right in front of me. We’re doing all we can to keep our asses alive.”
“It looks to my eyes as if you are doing all you can to fuck her ass,” Vasily says. He looks over at me again, then at Daniel. “Are you certain you wish for her to know of all our plans? She could be a decoy.”
“She’s not a decoy.”
“A honey trap, then. Sent to seduce you and bring down everything from inside.”
“I’m right here, you know,” I point out. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”
Daniel’s stiff in my arms again, and I can tell that he’s irritated at Vasily’s words. “She’s not a goddamn honey trap.”
“You’d better hope not, comrade, because you have clearly fallen for her wiles.”
Now I wish I
’d shot something more than his hand. Vasily is a dick with a capital D.
Vasily adjusts the cuffs of his dress shirt and looks over at Daniel. “Are you done fucking at the moment?”
“Yeah, having you show up has effectively killed any sort of hard-on I might have had,” Daniel says in a dry voice. “And Regan can be trusted. I won’t have you saying shit about her, okay? She’s a fighter, and she’s with me. She’s not leaving my side.”
God, I love hearing him say those things. For that, he’s totally getting a blow job as soon as I get him alone.
“So you want to take her to Hudson’s compound?” Vasily snorts. “It is, as the Americans say, your funeral.”
“You know where Hudson is?” Daniel looks a little surprised. “How’d you manage that?”
“While you were fucking, I pull strings and grease palms.” Vasily’s expression is utterly cold and he shoots another look of blame at me. “It is not hard to find people to notice a snow-pale man with a fetish for blonde women from North America who arms himself with dozens of mercenaries.”
I frown at his words. “Did . . . did you say snow-pale?”
Vasily’s gaze moves to me, his eyes slits. “Da.”
My heart begins to thump erratically in my chest, and I feel my skin prickle with an all-too familiar fear. I lick my lips and then gesture, asking, “Short, white-blonde hair? Pale eyes and pale skin? About this tall?” I gesture a few inches above my head. “Wears light-colored suits and sunglasses indoors?”
“You know this man?”
“That’s Mr. Freeze,” I whisper through numb lips. “The one who wants me back once I’ve been ‘broken in.’ He’s the one watching the embassy, waiting for someone to drop me off.”
Daniel’s arm tightens around my waist, noticing my fright. “He’s not going to get you. I promise that.”
“So,” Vasily says, “we leave her here, and you and I pay Hudson a visit. We retrieve this hacker and we find out more information about your sister. Everyone is happy.”
“Wait, no,” I cry out and cling to Daniel. This time, I’m smashing his face against my breasts, but I don’t care. “You can’t leave me here. You have to take me with you.”
Daniel’s voice is muffled against my breasts. “Fighter baby, you know I wouldn’t ask you to stay behind if it wasn’t safe, but—”
“No! You’re not abandoning me.”
“Regan—”
“I’m going with you.” Vasily being here has made me all edgy again, and I have a feeling I’m going to be clinging to Daniel harder than normal. Even the thought of Daniel leaving the room for five minutes and being here alone with Vasily is enough to make my skin prickle with gooseflesh. “You can’t leave me behind. You can’t. You promised.”
Daniel sighs. “I know. I know. We’ll think of something. It’s . . . fuck. It’s not safe, okay?”
“When has any of this been safe?” I ask him.
Vasily snorts.
“I’m going,” I say stubbornly.
“You are not invited,” Vasily says to me.
“If you leave me here, I’ll follow you,” I say, fighting the panic that’s rising. He can’t leave me behind. Not after all this. He can’t. If he does, I know I’m going to turn a corner and see Mr. Freeze lurking there, waiting for me.
“You heard the lady,” Daniel says. “She goes.”
Vasily spits out another phrase in Russian, and Daniel flips him the bird. They look ready to come to blows, staring down each other. After a tense moment though, Vasily throws his hands up, conceding.
DANIEL PEERS DOWN THE SCOPE of his rifle, scanning the compound far below. “That’s thirty-one,” he says. “Which means there will be more inside.”
The three of us are perched inside one of the hovels in Monkey Hill. We stopped by Luiz’s place, picked up our papers, and then headed back to the slums. Or at least, we did after both men tried to talk me out of going again.
I refused. I’m not leaving Daniel’s side. I won’t feel safe until he delivers me back to my doorstep in Minneapolis, so why does it matter that we’re heading to someplace dangerous? Everywhere is dangerous.
Once in the slums, Daniel paid someone to let us make use of his place for a few hours. Vasily guards the door, an enormous handgun held high as he scans the hallway. I’m crouching next to Daniel by the window, a piece of scratch-paper in hand as I mark an X onto my sketch of Hudson’s compound. I have an X every place that Daniel has found a soldier.
My paper is littered with Xs.
“Thirty-two,” Daniel murmurs. “One hiding in the stairwell. Fuck, the man has an army with him. Paranoid son of a bitch.”
I make a mark on my paper and look over at Daniel. He’s still squinting down the scope of his rifle, monitoring things. “So what does this mean?”
“It means we’re not going anywhere near him.”
I frown and peek out the window, gazing down at the walls of the place. It’s not exactly pretty—nor is it inconspicuous. The walls are made of enormous concrete blocks, and the double doors only open to allow the occasional truck in. The tops of the walls are curling with barbed wire, and Daniel has even said they have a sniper on the rooftop, like us.
“So why don’t we start shooting? Take as many out as we can and then charge in once we’ve picked off a bunch of their guys?”
Vasily mutters something derisive in Russian behind me, and I’m pretty sure he’s calling me stupid.
“No can do, fighter,” Daniel says, finally putting down his rifle and looking over at me. “I could pick off one or two before they notice, but then they’d figure out where we’re coming from and swarm up this hill. It’s too dangerous.”
“Why don’t we sneak in at night, then? We could get a few blankets and some ladders, toss a blanket over the barbed wire and climb our way over. I saw that in a movie once.”
“If he has thirty men outside, he will have thirty more inside,” Vasily bites out. “He is expecting us. He is ready. We need a new plan.”
Daniel rubs a hand down his face, looking as frustrated as I feel. I want us to go in there, guns blazing, and shoot Mr. Freeze in his ugly, pale face until he can’t come after me ever again. But if two assassins are saying it’s too dangerous, then maybe it is.
“So what do we do?” I ask.
“Tears of God,” Vasily says.
“Fuck. No way,” Daniel retorts. “I’m not taking Regan there.”
“What’s Tears of God?” I ask, my gaze moving between Vasily and Daniel. “What?”
“Remember I told you about the favela that’s controlled by the mercenaries? The one that no one fucks with?”
“That’s Tears of God?”
“They owe me favor,” Vasily says curtly. “This can be the favor.”
“Goddamn it, no, Vasily.”
“Why?” I ask again.
Daniel shoots me a dark look, and he seems rather upset. “No one goes into Tears of God without being checked over first. They take your guns, they take your clothes, and they search you. All of you. I’m not putting you through that. Fuck that. We’ll figure something else out.”
Vasily barks something harsh to Daniel.
I swallow, trying to imagine being patted down by a bunch of mercenaries. Walking into a place like the one below, naked and vulnerable. But there are two people being held in that compound— Daniel’s sister is —and the hacker. Daniel’s told me that wherever we find the hacker, we’ll find Naomi. I can’t stop thinking about that. Maybe she’s suffering the same things I went through. Hudson likes them broken. I try to picture a girl like Daniel but broken, and I shudder internally then force a calm look on my face. “I can do it.”
“No, fighter—”
“No, Daniel. I said I’d go with you. I have to take the good with the bad. I can stand to be patted down by a few guys, I promise.”
His jaw clenches, and I can tell that he doesn’t like it. That it’s vulnerable, and we’ll be naked and at their mer
cy if they try anything. If they decide to get rid of us, we’re fucked.
But I trust Daniel. So I force a wobbling smile to my face. “Let’s go.”
Twenty-one
Daniel
“THERE ’S NO WAY IN .” REGAN ’S dismay echoes my own internal frustration. It’s a sign. If you believed in signs, warnings, or symbols, the lack of an obvious entrance to Tears of God clearly said fuck off. I run my hand along the concrete walls and corrugated metal barriers that stand where the paved road indicates the entrance should be.
“What do you even know about this group?” I turn to Petrovich, who is standing slightly apart, hands on his hips, looking upward as if Touchdown Jesus will bend down from his place on the hill and part the metal seas for us.
“They are loyal, men of their word,” he answers and then points to the inscription written in Portuguese above the gate.
“What’s it say?” Regan asks.
“Revelation 21:4.” It’s a scripture. I read it out loud. “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.”
“That sounds nice. Maybe it would be more comforting if there wasn’t a dagger punctuating the end,” Regan observes wryly. I flash her a quick grin. That’s my girl.
I pull out my gun and point it at the dagger. “What are you doing?” Regan hisses.
“Gotta get their attention somehow.”
Before I can squeeze off a shot, a door appears in the wall to my left, and a large hulking figure steps out. His heritage is indeterminate, which likely makes him a true Brazilian. Native Brazilians are almost a greater melting pot of heritages than the U.S. Afrikaan, Asian, and American mix in fantastic harmony. The only real important thing about this stranger is his size—extra large—and weaponry. He’s got machine gun belts draped over his chest like suspenders. On his arms are leather wrist guards that double as knife sheathes. He’s got an AK strapped on his back and an armory belt with guns, knives, and more ammunition.
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