by Zoey Parker
But that didn’t mean she hadn’t been seriously injured.
We couldn’t reach his house fast enough.
Chapter 31
Kelly
I couldn’t stop crying. The cramping never went away. I was in a haze where only pain existed — physical pain, mental anguish, turmoil, regrets, fear. The minutes, the hours, maybe even the day melted together. I didn’t eat. Hardly drank. My body refused to accept whatever I did put into it. A few people came and left, looking me over, but I didn’t know what they wanted, didn’t care.
In my bubble, I was safe from them – to an extent. To cope, I imagined I was holding my baby instead of my stomach, that he was perfect, that he was so tiny and helpless and needed me to be happy. It got to the point that I didn’t know what was going on anymore. What was real? What was just my imagination? What were dreams versus daydreams?
A few times, I dreamed about Andrei. We were house hunting, which was ridiculous because he didn’t need a new house. His house was perfect as it was. Well, it would be perfect if he would get rid of that horde of weapons. I hated guns, hated the need for them, but I was naïve to think he would get rid of them when he clearly did have a need for them.
For some reason, I wasn’t pregnant in the dream, and we were holding hands. Light glittered and reflected from my hand, and I realized I was wearing a huge rock of an engagement ring. Wow. While I loved being engaged to him, I didn’t need a diamond this big. It was as big as my knuckle!
A real estate agent was going over all of the features of the house — the proximity to schools and parks, how close it was to the highway, easy access to stores and shopping and gas. Then she showed us the master bedroom, and she disappeared, and Andrei turned to me, with that certain look in his eyes, and suddenly we were naked.
It was almost perfect.
A strange sound cut through my dream, and I returned to my bubble. As if through a tunnel, from faraway, I could hear a sound that repeated endlessly. Cutting through the bubble to reenter reality wasn’t pleasant, but that was the only way I could recognize the sound.
It was gunshots.
And as much as I didn’t like guns, I loved hearing the sound of it right now because it meant one thing: Andrei had come for me. My heart pounded, and I forced myself to uncurl from the fetal position. My arms were weak, but I managed to push myself up into a sitting position. Andrei is here. He’ll save me.
The door was locked, and I sat there, staring at it, willing it to open, for Andrei to be there, for him to bring me home and wash me and love me. But what if he didn’t win? What if Andrei got hurt or killed? What if the rescue was a failure?
Don’t think like that. Don’t think at all.
Chapter 32
Andrei
As soon as my car, the first in our caravan, arrived on the scene, I opened the door and tumbled out. “Let’s move,” I said.
We parked out on the street around the back of the asshole’s place. We could drive up to the front gate, ram it through with a car, and storm the place easily enough, but no way did we want Vasilev to lock his gate and trap us in here. Vasilev had to be paranoid or else he wouldn’t have loaded up on firearms, and he had to have at least considered my men and I might show up uninvited. If he knew me at all, he should be waiting for us all to arrive. There was no way in Hell I would bring him the ransom money.
I looked around for surveillance. The back of the house looked inconspicuous enough, and it didn’t look like he had any guards out so we hopefully had the element of surprise on our hands, though there very well could be some guys hiding away, which was why I waved my hands down, telling my men without words to sneak on in.
Climbing over a metal fence while carrying guns wasn’t easy, and it sure wasn’t a quiet undertaking, but we all made our way up and over. I was there first, and I loved the weight of the gun in my hand. I had been shooting since I was eight. Some might consider that irresponsible, saying kids shouldn’t shoot weapons, but when your parents were murdered, you had to try to do whatever you could to reclaim a little bit of power and control back in your life, and for me, that meant going to the shooting range and learning how to master guns of various sizes.
It was impossible to really sneak up to the house since it wasn’t nighttime and there weren’t any shadows, but we made it to the back door without a single shot being fired. I considered that a win.
Nathanial, one of my men, picked the lock of the back door and swung it open.
That’s when the first gun went off — one of theirs.
Nathanial slumped over without even gasping first. There wasn’t time to move his body out of the way. It was either push our way inside now or allow them the chance to pour out of the house, and we pushed our way in all right. We forced our way inside the door, and from the sounds of glass shattering behind me, it sounded like some of my men forced their way inside through windows, too.
I had expressly forbidden any of them to bring along semi-automatics or full automatics. I did not want to risk a wild shot hitting Kelly. The same couldn’t be said of Vasilev’s men, however, and I ducked behind a side table and took my time, using my gun as if it were a rifle, and I mowed down those firing the mega rounds off.
Vasilev himself wasn’t anywhere around that I could see. He had been busy, those years after he killed my family, and the sheer number of men he had in his house meant he had definitely planned for an attack, and damn it all if he wasn’t adequately prepared for it.
My ears were already ringing. There was a reason why people wore mufflers when firing at a shooting range.
Each time one of my men fell, I winced and sent up a mental prayer for them. I hadn’t wanted this. I may have wanted my revenge, but I had wanted it to come down to Mikhail Vasilev and myself. No, that wasn’t completely true. I had drawn it out myself by wanting to ruin him through his family, as he had done with mine. If I hadn’t been so damn selfish, if I had just sought out my revenge immediately instead of playing bullshit games, none of this would have ever happened. Kelly would still be safe. Kelly never should have ever been involved in this at all. Once again, Vasilev had found a way to hurt someone I cared about.
I shot and shot and shot some more. My hands didn’t shake, and I hit more than I missed, but inwardly, I was trembling with rage. This was all my fault. I wouldn’t blame Kelly if she blamed me for this. It really was my fault. She would be better off without me. What can I give her but more of the same?
If she wanted out, if she wanted to be free, I would let her go. I never understood the saying about loving someone and letting him or her go so that if they came back, you would know it really was love. But now I did. If I had to let her go, I would hope and pray she would come back to me. I would do anything for that. I would change. I would become a better man. Hell, I wanted to be a better man for myself. All of the rage and anger I had been living off of for so long had blinded me to how good my life had been. I hadn’t cared about my money or my family — my men, my mob. Out of the tragedy of losing my parents, I had forged myself a new family, but that hadn’t been enough for me and it should’ve been. I never should have been so caught up in revenge.
Bullets flew, and one whizzed so close to me I had to duck. We were in the house, but none of us had left the entranceway. It was time to move forward, to press the attack. I nodded to my men and signaled for them to fan out. We moved onward and pressed inward, and I darted into the first room I saw, closing the door behind me just in case anyone was following me. It was a bathroom. Empty. I turned to leave, when I heard rustling.
I shoved aside the shower curtain. Cowering in the tub was one of Vasilev’s men. “Please,” he begged, his eyes wide, his hands raised. My ears were still ringing from all of the gunshots, but I could hear him, even if just barely. “Please don’t kill me. I…I have a family. A wife. Two young kids.” He reached toward his side.
I aimed my gun at him. “Don’t move.”
He winced. Maybe I was talking too
loudly. “I just want to show you… their picture,” he said. “My wallet…”
“Where?”
“Back left pocket.”
I made him stand up and turn around and grabbed out his wallet. He slowly turned back around as I opened it. Cute pictures of a little boy and girl playing in the sand, a picture of the guy and a beautiful woman in front of a nice but small house.
Not lowering the gun, I handed him back the wallet. “I’m—”
“I know who you are. I…Mikhail’s my cousin and…” He winced. “Shouldn’t have said that…”
“I’m not here to kill just anyone,” I said hotly. “You fire at me, and I’ll fire back. You haven’t, but if you want to live, I suggest you start talking. Where is the bastard?”
“My cousin? Last I heard, he went out to buy more bullets, but he should’ve been back by now.”
“Where is he?” I growled, jabbing him with the nozzle of my gun.
The guy winced. “Probably upstairs. Look, I know I’m a coward. I shouldn’t have dashed in here, but…when push comes to shove, I pick my family over my cousin. Maybe that’s not right, but…yeah, it’s not right. I take his money. I do what he asks of me. I’ve done things…”
“We’ve all done things. Upstairs where? His bedroom? East, west?”
“Last door on the left. But he might be holed up in the basement. That’s where he keeps his armory. You really don’t want to go down there.”
“His wife and kids?”
“Aren’t here. Haven’t been since…” The guy glanced away.
“Since he realized one of my guys was involved with one of his daughters.”
The guy nodded.
“Is she…”
“Sent to live out of the country was what I heard. He won’t hurt one of his own. I don’t think. His vendetta against—”
The door opened. One of Vasilev’s men stood in the doorway. He raised his gun.
I grabbed Vasilev’s cousin and shoved him down as I ducked and fired. My second shot got the guy in the temple.
I turned to the cousin. “Get the hell out of here,” I barked. “Too many loose bullets, and you have a family to get back to.”
He nodded, pulled out a gun from his boot, and handed it to me. “You didn’t deserve all of this.”
Maybe, maybe not. I definitely played the game, and now a ton of men were caught up in the crosshairs, dying for a pointless war. Vasilev deserved to die for what he had done years ago and for what he had done now, but the others…who could say if they should be killed, too?
I left the bathroom and fired shots to cover my ass as I made my way toward the stairs. It might be smart to sabotage the armory, but I had come here first to save Kelly, not for revenge. She was what mattered most.
A few of my men followed me upstairs, and I did whisper to Dima about the armory so he could look into it if he found the opportunity to. There were even more men upstairs, which made me believe either Kelly was up here or maybe his cousin had been right, and Vasilev was, or maybe they both were.
Kelly. I’m coming for you. I’ll save you. If it’s the last thing I do.
Chapter 33
Kelly
It sounded like a world war was going on outside of these four walls, my prison. I was terrified, afraid to move, afraid to leave, afraid to stay. My stomach was cramping again, and I felt lightheaded, woozy. I had to brace a hand against the wall to keep from falling over. Should I try to make a break for it? Try to find one of Andrei’s men, to find Andrei himself? It might be better to stay put. All those guns going off, all of those bullets…the last thing I wanted was to be caught in the crossfire.
Hand still on the wall, I walked over to the window. If I weren’t on the second floor, I would risk breaking a window and trying to escape that way, but I couldn’t risk it. There was no ledge outside of this window, just a straight drop down.
The sight of bodies lying on the floor, some of the men writhing around in pain, blood staining the grass, made me even sicker to my stomach, and I had to look away. God, help them. Help me, too. Please. This is terrible.
Andrei had come for me, but at what cost to himself and his men? Yes, I had hoped and prayed he would come rescue me, but I never thought it would end up being such a bloodbath.
The gunfire continued, on and on without end, and shouts and screams filtered to me, as well as the sound of men fighting. Terrible howls of pain as shots connected. Threats of more violence, promises that loved ones would be hunted. I couldn’t make out all of the words, and I couldn’t recognize any of the voices. My ears were beginning to hurt, even though my closed door muffled the sounds of the shots.
How long the fighting lasted, I didn’t know. Had there been neighbors to this house? Couldn’t others hear the gunfire? Would they call the police? Maybe not, if they knew they lived near a mobster’s house. Couldn’t blame them for not wanting to get involved, and maybe the police showing up wasn’t a good idea. Andrei himself was a mob boss. The police might want to arrest him or his men.
And if that happened, if we were so close to reuniting only to be separated by jail bars this time, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I wasn’t meant for this kind of life. I needed to not live in fear. I needed something more.
I wanted something more. Out of my life. Out of his.
If we survived this somehow, I wanted to do something with my life. I didn’t just want to be Andrei Petrov’s woman or mother to his child. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help women who had been abused or kidnapped. I wanted to help them survive. I wanted to give them hope.
Hell, I needed hope myself right now.
The man who had kidnapped me…he wouldn’t be able to get away with this, right? I could see him try to claim this all as self-defense. They came to my house, guns ablazin’. We had no choice but to fire back. The thought sickened me. If I survived this, I would do whatever it took, I would testify, I would make sure he would end up convicted and in jail.
But I had never seen the man behind the curtain. I didn’t even know his name. His men talked about him but only ever referred to him as their boss. What if he tried to claim ignorance? What if he threw his men under the bus and said they acted under their own authority? That he hadn’t ordered them to take me? It would be my word against theirs, and considering I was involved with a mob boss, would the jury believe me?
The gunfire and the shouts of the angry and the wails of the dying grew louder. I slid backward to the corner. What if the door opened but it wasn’t Andrei or one of his men on the other side? What if the mobsters holding me hostage decided they didn’t need to keep me around anymore? That I was expendable? There wasn’t a weapon here. All it would take would be a gunshot.
The doorknob jiggled, and I held my breath. The door opened. The guy standing there was one I didn’t recognize, but it didn’t matter if he was friend or foe because suddenly he slumped down, bleeding profusely, dead from a shot to the temple.
I stifled a scream, my hand over my mouth. I was going to be sick again. This was a nightmare. So much death and carnage. I was going to die here. This was it. The end for the baby and me. We would die. Andrei might have already died. Who knew? The two mobs might shoot each other to the point of destroying both.
Trying to calm my stomach, I held it, hunched over, walking bent over to the door, but I didn’t leave. Bullets were whizzing by in the hallway. The house shook suddenly from a big blast beneath us, and I stumbled to the ground, landing hard. What was going on?
I brought myself up to my feet, peeked outside, and in the room across from mine, I saw Andrei. He was holding a man by the throat. His lips moved, and from his facial expression, it was obvious he was shouting. Whoever the man was, Andrei was beyond pissed at him. His arm came up, and I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. Was he going to execute the guy? No. Andrei pistol-whipped the man, knocking him unconscious.
“Andrei!” I tried to cry out, but his name was unintelligible on my lips.
> Or maybe not. He turned around, and his eyes widened. The expression on his face…I would never forget it. He looked at me like I was his whole world, his sole reason for breathing, and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the terror that had been my life throughout this ordeal. I couldn’t handle the thought that I might be saved. I couldn’t handle Andrei and his baggage or my baggage either.
I didn’t mean to, but I started to cry. There was still fighting going on, but it did seem to be winding down some. The number of shots fired was going down. Maybe they were starting to run out of bullets. I risked a few steps forward so I could peek up and down the hallway. I sorely wished I hadn’t. The amount of dead bodies was terrible. Piles of them. Men stepping over them to shoot at others. The cost was way too high.