by Nic Saint
“Don’t beat yourself up over this, bro,” rumbled Michael, taking him into a bear hug. “You weren’t to know the entire police department in this godforsaken place would be corrupt as all hell.”
“They’re all in on it?” asked Diana incredulously, flipping her golden mane from the collar of her black leather jacket, then reaching back to tie it into a knot. She looked stunning, as usual.
“Looks like,” he told her.
“I did some digging,” Alex announced, “and it looks like attacks on tourists aren’t the only thing this gang has been up to. Apparently they’ve been running their own little illegal empire down here. Shipping in drugs, selling that shit to tourists, even organizing a prostitution ring, illegal gambling, you name it.”
“But how come we didn’t know about this?” Erik demanded. “Is Gornakov in on this?”
He stared from his brother to the twins, David and Denis, who were unloading several hefty canvas bags from the plane, Bruno giving them a hand.
“Yulian didn’t have a clue,” sighed Alex, “and neither did Roman. Apparently they’ve been running their own operation right under Yulian’s nose all this time.”
“It’s one hot mess you landed yourself into now, son,” opined Robert with a wiggle of his eyebrows. His younger brother never could take anything seriously. He gave him a jab in the stomach as a thank you for that comment.
“Ouch! I come out here on my own time and this is the thanks I get?” Robert laughed, flicking a recalcitrant lock of black hair from his brow.
“You should never have come out here at all,” Michael growled. “Erik only asked for the best, not the leftovers.”
Robert tackled him before Mike had a chance to react, and the two brothers went down on the tarmac, grappling each other.
“I thought we were here to take care of a gang of rogue cops, not settle a family dispute?” asked Diana with raised eyebrow.
“I guess for Rob any excuse is good enough to take on Mike,” Alex considered as he watched his brothers exchange heated punches. He was a married man now, and the only responsible Petrov, or at least that’s how he saw himself.
“Break it up, you assholes!” snarled Erik. He couldn’t stand watching his brothers frolic around while Jackie was suffering God knows what fate.
“Yeah, break it up,” echoed David, who’d joined them.
“Fools,” muttered his twin Denis.
“We’ve got better things to do than stand around cheering you on,” David called out.
“We’ve got Erik’s girl to save,” concluded Denis.
Erik’s jaw moved as he thought about Jackie as ‘his girl’. His brother was right. Jackie was his girl, and he would do anything to get her back. He grunted in acknowledgement when Diana placed a gentle hand on his arm.
Dusting themselves off, both Michael and Robert rose to their feet, felt if their jaws were still attached, and joined the others.
“Sorry about that,” grumbled Michael, spitting a wad of blood onto the asphalt. “Had to teach the kid some manners.”
He deftly ignored the dig in the ribs the ‘kid’ gave him, then wiped more blood from his mouth and focused on the problem at hand.
“So what’s the plan?” panted Robert. “How do we do this?”
David kicked at a large bulky bag. It fell open, and an impressive array of weaponry became visible. “Take your pick, boys. This time we’re doing things our way. The Petrov way.”
Denis gave a soft grunt as he dropped a second bag next to the first one. This one, too, was filled to the brim with guns and ammo. “Dang, this stuff is heavy.”
“Too heavy for you, maybe,” suggested his twin brother.
“You wish!” snapped Denis.
“No scrapping, boys,” Diana reminded them. “Jackie’s been taken, and we’re all she has to count on.”
This sobered the small troupe up sufficiently, and they all dove into the bags, providing themselves with enough weapons to supply a small army.
“I suggest we go in guns blazing,” suggested Alex, lovingly fingering a Glock.
“Don’t you think we should use extreme caution?” countered Diana. She eyed her brother wearily. “Have you considered they might use Jackie as a human shield?”
Erik’s jaw worked as he thought of the gentle woman, held by these animals, and he nodded once. His face had gone white as a sheet.
Mike placed an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll get her out of there, Erik. Safe and sound.”
“Safe and sound,” echoed Bruno, who’d been eyeing this brotherly display of affection with a misty-eyed gaze. “We’ll get her back for you, buddy.”
Erik merely stared before him, his heart constricted. If anything happened to Jackie, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. For the first time, he realized that somewhere between catching her eye at the bar and making love to her that morning, he’d fallen for her. Hard.
Mike took charge. “Listen up! We’re going in like thieves in the night, taking these assholes by surprise. First priority: rescue Jackie from the clutches of these maniacs. Second.” He grimaced. “Blow them all to kingdom come!”
“Let’s do this!” Diana called out, slamming a magazine in her PP-90 submachine gun. Erik’s sister liked her guns big and noisy.
“Yeah, let’s take down every last piece of scum,” growled Erik grimly. “No prisoners. We finish this tonight.”
For once, all Petrovs were in complete agreement, and even Bruno had lost his customary look of good-naturedness, his face now hard and set. When the seven siblings joined together in a pre-mission huddle, Bruno was included, and then it was off to two waiting black SUVs, courtesy, like the jet, of Roman Loginovsky’s connections and Yulian Gornakov’s seemingly limitless funds.
As they strapped themselves in, Erik thought that before this night was through, this business would be settled once and for all. And when Jackie was finally freed, he would never let her go again. Ever. He would never lose her again, not as long as he had a breath left in his body.
As they drove off with screeching tires, the Petrov family was united once again, and rode out to squash their enemies on their own turf. Weapons were locked and loaded, faces grim and foreboding, and there was little talk in the cars as they homed in on their destination: Hotel Copacabana.
CHAPTER 23
Jackie was alerted to trouble brewing when the gunshots rang out in the immediate vicinity of the room she was being held in. She had no way of knowing for sure a rescue operation had been mounted, but her gut told her Erik was coming, guns blazing. It was his style. Never one for taking half measures, he would take no prisoners this time, nor did she want him to.
They’d done things her way, and as a consequence she’d found herself shackled to a bed, prisoner of these horrible men. This time she hoped he would do things his way, and take care of these monsters once and for all. She just hoped he would be in time to save her. Before she took her least breath, she needed to see him one last time—to lay eyes on him one last time.
She hoped she would live long enough to see that simple dream come true.
Then the door to her room burst open, and she yelped in horrified surprise. It was Scarface, panic apparent in his fevered gaze. He strode to the bed, and when she saw the familiar knife flickering in his hands, she cried out in fear and terror. He raised the knife, but instead of plunging it into her cowering body, he slashed the restraints keeping her tethered to the bed, then yanked her to her feet.
“You’re coming with me,” he growled. She tried to make a break for it, but he grabbed her by the throat and put the pointy end of the knife against her cheek. “One more try and you’re a dead woman,” he warned. “Now come.”
And then they were hurtling along the corridor, and only now did she see they were still at the Copacabana, only it was a part of the hotel she’d never seen. They were racing down a staircase and then she found herself in a large casino. A wall of slot machines gleamed at the far side of the gaming floor, tables
set up for craps, baccarat, roulette, poker, and other mainstays for the avid gambler. A bar covered the length of the opposing wall, and as she tried to keep up with Scarface, her feet drowned in the sumptuous red carpeted floor. They were running at a fast clip now, the man setting foot for a room near the back of the casino. She could see other men beckoning him, urging him on.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, and they were diving to the floor, scurrying behind a blackjack table.
“Let the girl go!” a voice called out. With a surge of hope, she recognized it as Erik’s.
“Get back here, you puta,” the man hissed, training his weapon on her. For a split second, she had a decision to make. She could attempt to get away from him and risk a bullet to the head, or she could comply and face the same fate by his hands and that of his accomplices, now holed up in that room at the back.
She decided to live dangerously for a change, and made a break for it.
Another gunshot rent the air, and with a shriek she hit the deck, then rolled underneath a gaming table. Above her head, something crashed, and decks of cards and chips rained down around her as she covered her head.
She was crawling as fast as she could along the carpeted floor, trying to stay as low as possible, making her way toward the sound of Erik’s voice.
“Jackie!” Erik thundered. “Over here!”
“I’m all right!” she called out.
“Thank God,” his voice came back, and then there was nothing but the thunderous roar of gunfire erupting all around her, and for the next couple of minutes, as she cowered under a sturdy circular blackjack table, the air was redolent with erupting explosions coming from all sides, the cracks and bangs growing louder and louder, and then suddenly a man dove down right next to her. She rolled to face him, fists raised in defense, but when she saw it was Erik, she cried out with relief.
“It’s all right, baby,” he boomed, and grasped her to him, his arms like iron bands around her. He fiercely thundered over the noise of the strafing bullets, “I thought I’d lost you, Jackie.”
“Never,” she assured him. “We Bouchards are a pretty tough breed.”
He laughed at that, but then an explosion rocked the floor, as if someone was actually throwing grenades now, and he took her hand, and yelled, “Come on. Let’s get you out of here!”
“What’s going on?” she shrieked as the table above their heads exploded into a million pieces.
“My brothers and sister!” he yelled back.
Her eyes went wide. His family was here? But then he was yanking her along, and she ducked for cover as chandeliers above their heads erupted and came crashing down to the floor, spraying them with pellets of crystal. The steady spit of a submachine gun peppered the walls, the one-armed bandits exploding in a hailstorm of glass and coins, drowning out cries of pain and grunts of despair.
As she kept her head down, violence and mayhem erupting all around her and tearing the room apart, Erik propelled her to the other side of the casino, and when she looked back, she saw a small band of heavily armed people steadily making their way to the room where Scarface’s men were making their last stand.
Mouth agape, she watched as a woman handled a submachine gun with practiced ease, spraying bullets and eliciting a devastating brand of destruction, six men flanking her, three on either side, guns raised, firing off shot after shot.
Scarface’s men didn’t stand a chance against the approaching wall of Petrovs. And then, before her horrified gaze, it was all over when one of Erik’s brothers threw a grenade that landed at the evil thug’s feet. Eyes wide, the scar-faced goon tried to kick out, but an enormous explosion had her turn her head away, and then Erik’s enormous body pinned her to the floor, covering her from the devastation.
When finally he rolled away, and carefully lifted her to her feet, the fight was over, and she watched, eyes stinging from the acrid smoke, as six men and one woman quickly made their way to the end of the room, stepping over rubble and holding up their guns, vigilant and alert. She couldn’t imagine anyone would be left to fight them.
“I think it’s over,” Erik confirmed as he took a grip on her shoulders and eyed her sternly. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, and he repeated the question, empathically. “Jackie, are you hurt?”
“No, I—I’m fine,” she stuttered, hardly believing it herself. “I’m fine, Erik!”
The expression in his eyes was one of extreme relief, and when he grasped her to his chest, she burst into tears, not from fear and terror this time but from knowing she was safe at last.
But even before the thought had solidified in her head, there were more confused shouts, and suddenly she found herself surrounded by a troupe of strange men, dressed in body armor, flashing guns and shouting nervous commands.
“FBI!” one of the men bellowed. “Put your guns down now!”
Erik held up his hands and dropped his gun, and Jackie watched the Petrovs turn as one group and throw their weapons to the floor. But instead of eyeing the new arrivals with trepidation, their grins were wide and their eyes were on her instead. She found herself gazing into four pairs of sharp green eyes, one pair of piercing blues, and Bruno’s trusty browns.
It was the first time she met Erik’s family, and she thought she would probably never forget these peculiar circumstances.
“Are we under arrest now?” she asked.
“Nope,” Erik assured her.
She had no idea what the heck was going on, but decided that if Erik wasn’t worried, she wouldn’t be either.
Then a tall man with light brown hair approached, wearing an FBI vest. He walked up to Erik, and greeted him amicably. “Erik.”
“Nate,” acknowledged Erik.
“Looks like we got here just in time.”
“Or just too late,” Erik returned with a grin.
Nathan shook his head at the devastation. “Good thing this is all Gornakov property, otherwise my boss would be pretty pissed off.”
Erik gave what was left of the room a once-over. “Yah, I don’t think Yulian will mind.”
Nate gestured to the other side of the casino. “Any survivors?”
“Nope. I think we tidied the place up for you, Nate.”
Nathan shook his head. “One of these days I will have to deputize you.”
“Not on your life,” growled Erik, and Nathan laughed, then walked over to the other Petrovs.
Under her breath, Jackie asked, “Who’s he?”
“Nathan Callaway. FBI. We’ve been working with him for a while now.”
Her eyes went wide. “FBI? But I thought—”
“That the Petrovs were a bunch of Mob killers? We are, but we also work with the feds from time to time.”
The thought was so ludicrous she simply couldn’t wrap her mind around it.
Seeing her confusion, he grinned. “I’ll explain it all to you, honey, but first we need to get you out of here.”
She let him lead her away from the war zone, her mind still reeling. Erik was working with the FBI? This story was becoming stranger and stranger by the minute.
CHAPTER 24
Flowers bloomed wherever she looked, casting their fragrance to all and sundry. She’d never really appreciated the colorful display before but after the ordeal she’d suffered through last night, she surely did now. Violets clashed with bright oranges and vermilions, lavenders and pinks, and when she sat back on the bench, she watched a honeybee dart from flower to flower, enjoying the scents and sights even more than she did.
For the first time in two days, she felt relaxed. She looked up when Erik came walking to her from the yogurt ice cream store, carrying two ginormous cups. She gratefully accepted hers, then started scooping up the sweet treat with relish.
Just another morning in sunny Cancun, and for once they weren’t at the hotel, but strolling downtown, visiting one of the street markets in Mercado Veintiocho. Erik, in a bid at romanticism, had bought her a bouquet of lilacs that she cherished, and now th
ey were basking in the sun and eating their ice cream in silence.
They hadn’t talked much about the events that had taken place the night before. She’d had a brief interview with one of the FBI men, then had recounted the same story to Erik and that was it. He’d merely listened, then folded her hand in his, and had given her his sternest look, grief for what she’d suffered through fighting with relief she’d survived the ordeal. It was clear he blamed himself, though she’d assured him it was her own stupidity that was at fault.
He didn’t agree, but had accepted her explanation, vowing not to let her relive the same events over and over again. “This stops here,” he’d softly stated, and they’d left it at that.
Through his contacts, Erik had done more than that. He’d actually called her manager at Peterson Enterprises and asked for and been granted an extension for both her and Susan’s sojourn at the Copacabana. Two more days. She’d readily agreed, as had, apparently, her manager.
He’d already polished off his ice cream, and was now watching her take dainty licks from her own, visibly fascinated. Then, out the blue, he asked, “Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?”
She held up her cup and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind strolling the streets of Cancun, soaking up the rays and eating ice cream.”
He laughed. “That’s not what I meant, honey.” Putting his hand on her cheek, he pressed a kiss to her lips that buzzed through her system, then he gave her that same intense scrutiny again. It had her head spinning. “I meant being a legal secretary for Peterson Enterprises in Chicago.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t really given much thought to her job. Her life had been so full of gangsters and mobsters and FBI agents, typing up legal documents was the last thing on her mind. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I never really saw a different future for myself.”
“Is this what you wanted to do when you were five?” he gently pressed on.
She laughed again. “Of course not. What five-year-old little girl wants to be a secretary when she grows up?”