As Tatiana got closer, Dmitriy extended a hand and helped her up to the top of the wall. He then swung his leg to the other side and initiated his descent.
Trevor slipped the gun back in the waistband of his pants and followed suit. They had made it look so easy. Thank the Irish gods Cassandra had whipped his ass into shape, or he would have fallen on his face. He cursed his need for an adrenaline rush. That one had become a whitewater rapids ride without the raft.
Midway to the top, he heard the sound of sprinting feet heading in their direction. Glancing up, he saw Tatiana’s skirt disappearing as she slipped out of sight, followed by a soft rustle of bushes and then silence.
Peeking from behind the tree, Trevor recognized Alexander, one of Mikhailov’s guards. He watched as the heavily armed man, breathing hard from the run, poked the bushes at the back of the house with the muzzle of his AK-47. Trevor drew and held a deep breath, motionless while visualizing Cassandra’s face, his promise to return to her in one piece a looping mantra in his head.
“Alexander! They went this way!” another voice shouted from somewhere out front. The guard’s head snapped up and he took off running. Sneaking another look from behind the tree, Trevor watched as he disappeared in the direction of the house.
Anticipating the man would be back, Trevor rushed his ascent, pulling himself up just as Dmitriy had done. Straddling the wall, he squinted into the wooded area for any sign of the couple on the other side. A sense of dread invaded him when he considered the possibility that they had bailed on him. A quick “Psst!” reached his ears, then another. Searching in the direction from where the sound originated, Trevor spotted Dmitriy’s head popping out from the bushes.
Dmitriy waved at Trevor, urging him down. “Come on!”
Scanning the backside of the wall, Trevor spotted the uneven stones he could use as foot holds. “Give me a second!” he called down in a low voice.
Supporting his weight on his hands, he swung his leg to the other side and, shoving his toe onto the first foothold, eased over the wall. Facing the house, he noticed movement in the yard and heard snarling dogs. The damn dogs were on the loose again. He hated those big dogs. They were too smart for their own good. It was just a matter of time before they picked up their scent. He glimpsed down for the next foothold.
“Halt!” a familiar voice yelled.
Startled, Trevor stared down into Sergei’s dead cold eyes. The henchman sneered just before he pulled the trigger. A grunt whooshed from Trevor’s chest when burning pain speared through his shoulder. He let go of the wall and crumbled to the ground, falling on a bed of soft springy moss. Blinding pain radiated from the left side of his body. “Fuck!” he cursed, rolling to his back. Perspiration beaded his brow as he cradled his drooping arm closer to him. Warm blood oozed from the wound and stained his shirt. A metallic tang coated his tongue, his ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton as his vision faded to black.
Chapter Forty-Four
Running
CASSANDRA MOVED PURPOSEFULLY AROUND THE apartment, gathering the last items needed for her evasion. Returning to the makeshift desks, she shoved Trevor’s laptop into her pack and reached for her own. Just then, the equalizer on the screen blipped and a commotion filtered through the connection. Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed the handle of the pack, listening intently for more signs of Trevor. Cassandra knew she should disconnect all the equipment, pack, and leave, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Trevor’s urgent whisper came loud and clear through the speakers, “We gotta be quick!” Adrenaline coursed hot and fast in her blood as she overheard footsteps running and heavy gunfire in the background. What the hell was going on in there?
Soon after, she heard a second voice, which she recognized as Dmitriy’s, cry out, “Where is she?” And then he switched to Russian. A woman’s voice answered his call.
A frantic conversation took place between Dmitriy and the woman. Suddenly, Trevor’s firm tone sounded again and the woman stopped crying. Minutes later, following another brief dialogue in Russian, Cassandra heard Trevor call out, “Go, go!”
She heard the thumping of running feet and heavy breathing. They were escaping, running. Cassandra knew she should do the same but her feet were fused to the floor. She had to know that he was safe. Once he was off the property, she would gather their things and leave as planned. Until then, she listened intently to their every move, waiting for another word from Trevor.
“How do we get up there?” Her heart sank to her knees. Trevor hadn’t been lucky with heights of late. She braced herself for what would come next. Men’s voices speaking excitedly in Russian came across the signal and she heard Trevor’s sigh of relief when they faded in the distance.
“Come on!” Dmitriy urged, an undertone of panic in his voice.
“Move it, Trev! Get the hell down from wherever you are! No more climbing for you, mister!” she grumbled, even though she knew he had no way of hearing her.
“Give me a second!” She almost felt like he had responded directly to her. A small smile cracked on her lips. He would be out of there in a minute and she would be back in his arms in a few hours.
“Halt!” She recognized that voice. Her stomach sank to her feet. She had heard that voice the day Trevor received his unwanted visit in the middle of the night. Sergei. Mikhailov’s henchman and resident psycho.
A loud pop rang out. “Trevor!” she cried when his grunt echoed in the room, followed by static. The connection had been severed. That was a shot. I know it was. He is not dead. He is not dead. Get moving, Cassie.
Sick to her stomach, hands shaking out of control, Cassandra put a wall around her heart and focused her thoughts. She forced a shutdown of her computer, shoved it in with Trevor’s, and slung the backpack over her shoulder. Grabbing her Grach, she checked the safety before stuffing it into the band of her jeans at the small of her back as she bolted through the room to the front door, where two duffel bags waited on the floor.
Cassandra scanned the hallway before she slipped out, locking the door behind her. With both bags in hand, she double-timed it down the stairs, spilled out on to the sidewalk, and hurried off in the direction of the Sennaya Metro Station. By her calculations, the whole trip to the safe house would take a couple of hours, barring any delays. At the most, she expected to arrive there around early evening. Trevor better be there.
She weaved past businessmen and women, mothers and children, and the elderly going about their daily grind, oblivious to the turmoil churning inside her. Cassandra wanted to yell, scream, make them aware someone she cared deeply about, someone she loved, was in danger. But life went on untouched by the pandemonium buffeting them from all sides.
Cassandra’s heart hammered against her ribs as she reached the entrance of the metro. She made her way through the throng of people toward the turnstile. As the metal slot sucked the ticket from her fingers, she pushed her way through and mingled with the many passengers waiting on the platform. She glanced at the digital board and sighed heavily. She would be on the next train out of there.
*****
Trevor woke to an excruciating pain radiating from his shoulder. Hands tugged and pulled at his body and voices penetrated his consciousness. Voices he recognized—Dmitriy and Tatiana. He tried to move, but the pain was like a hot poker spearing through him. He sucked in air, fighting through the agony that would have dropped him to his knees had he not already been lying on the ground. Darkness threatened to overtake him once again, but he pushed through it.
“Lift him so I can wrap his arm,” Tatiana told Dmitriy; when he did, another burst of burning pain seared through his upper body as she wrapped what looked like strips of cloth from her skirt tightly around his chest and arm. Dmitriy covered Trevor’s mouth to muffle the cries that broke from his lips and were sure to give away their location.
Breathing harshly through his nose, Trevor’s head fell back against the ground.
“What the
hell happened?” Dmitriy whispered.
Even drowning in pain, Trevor couldn’t prevent the amused chuckle that escaped his lips. “Damn. You sound like my wife…fucking Sergei happened.”
“Wife?” Dmitriy shot another accusing look at Trevor and shook his head. “Never mind. We don’t have time. We have to get out of here. What do we do now?”
“How bad is my arm? Did you check it while I was out?” Trevor asked in Russian, hoping one of them had had the presence of mind to take advantage of that natural anesthesia—unconsciousness.
“Yes. Tatiana checked.”
“I think the bullet went straight through. I cleaned the wound the best I could. It’s still bleeding, but not as bad as before. It will do for now. The arm doesn’t seem to be broken. You will need an x-ray to be sure.” Trevor raised an eyebrow at Tatiana’s impressive thoroughness and expertise.
She shrugged and said offhandedly, “Three younger brothers and living on a farm in the middle of nowhere makes you learn that kind of thing. They hunted a lot.” Trevor tried to smile at her, but could only manage a grimace.
“What do we do now?” Dmitriy asked again.
“We need to get out of here. I’ll need your help. I won’t get far on my own.”
They helped Trevor into a sitting position and gave him a second to catch his breath before draping his good arm over Dmitriy’s shoulders. Tatiana supported him by the waist as they eased him to his feet.
“Shite!” Trevor hissed. Pain blinded him, his hearing muffled, and he thought he would pass out again. “Give me a second.” Trevor squeezed his eyes shut and gulped big gasps of air until his head cleared and he could breathe again. “Okay, I’m good. Let’s go.”
Dimity shouldered Trevor’s weight and became his human crutch, leading them on an excruciating race against time. They all worried Sergei would catch up with them. It wouldn’t be pretty if he did.
The minutes it took to reach the edge of the park were the longest of Trevor’s life. When they reached the busy road, and before they continued on their way to the closest metro station, Dmitriy took off his sweater and covered Trevor’s shoulders with it to conceal the blood staining his shirt.
“Not that this will help much, but thank you,” Trevor grunted.
Dmitriy frowned. “What do you mean? At least it will cover the blood.”
“Yeah, but have you seen your face?” Trevor smirked. “We are a curious pair, bloodied and bruised. All courtesy of Sergei.”
When Dmitriy gripped Trevor’s arm again and draped it around his neck, Trevor groaned and stumbled against him.
“Steady, my friend. I’m sorry I moved too quickly.” Dmitriy’s tone was apologetic.
Trevor flashed him a mischievous grin. “Don’t be. You just gave me a brilliant idea. Follow my lead.” He leaned heavily against Dmitriy and cried out in Russian, slurring his words. “Vodka! More vodka! Where is my bottle?” He shifted his head in Tatiana’s direction and narrowed his eyes. “Are you hiding it?”
Tatiana caught on quickly and did what she could to further their ruse. “You, my brother, have had enough. We need to get you home so you can sleep it off.”
“Come,” Dmitriy urged, leading a stumbling Trevor in the direction of the metro.
At the counter, Dmitriy pulled out his wallet and was about to hand the cashier his credit card when Trevor gripped his hand. “No,” Trevor whispered in English.
“What do you mean? We need to pay to get in.”
“I know. No credit cards. They can trace that. I’m sure one of the hackers working for your uncle could. Use cash.”
Understanding shone in Dmitriy’s eyes for a second before dismay took over. “I have no cash on me.” Panic flooded his expression. “How are we going to get out of here now?”
Trevor had the emergency train and bus passes in his back pocket, but they were useless. There was no way he could make it without Dmitriy and Tatiana’s help, and he wouldn’t leave them behind, even if he could.
Trevor’s shoulder throbbed, numbness setting in, and perspiration soaked the back of his shirt. The wound needed attention soon or he could develop an infection. While the pain wasn’t as bad as before, it still made him grit his teeth each time he was jostled.
Trevor hissed low through his teeth in Russian, “We need to get out of St. Petersburg. I—we—need to head North.”
Tatiana considered his words for a second and a gleam of excitement bled into her eyes. “The Udelnaya flea market! I know several of the vendors there. The majority of them live outside of St. Petersburg. I bet we can find a ride out of here with one of them.”
The idea of being tossed around in the back of a truck was not appealing, but it was the best idea they had at that moment. Nobody would think to look for them in a flea market truck heading out of town.
Dmitriy had come to the same conclusion because he turned on his heels. “The market is this way.” Tatiana looked at Dmitriy in surprise. He shrugged and added, “I followed you a few times to make sure you were safe. I was worried.” She grinned and squeezed his hand.
Witnessing their small intimate moment pinched at Trevor’s heart, reminding him of Cassandra and his need to see her, touch her again. Leaning heavily on the two, Trevor sucked in a deep breath and nodded to Tatiana. “Lead the way.”
*****
Nikol’s emotions were in turmoil. One moment she was cozily embedded in Mikhailov’s organization, earning a position to take him and her true target down. The next, she was in the middle of a full-fledged gun battle having to protect her back against friend—if that was what she could call Mikhailov’s trusted guards—and foe alike.
She had lost sight of Sergei when the first shots sounded and chaos ensued. Nikol wasn’t impressed by the firepower the two gangs had built over the years. She had lived long enough amongst them to understand their capabilities and the reach of their influence in society, not to mention how fiercely they defended their territory.
As much as the unexpected tumult was detrimental to her goal, it could possibly move her closer to success in her venture. The target of her operation was the server room—the only room to which she still didn’t have access. Crouched in the library, armed to the teeth, Nikol regrouped and headed off in its direction, hoping that in the middle of the melee the guards had been sloppy in their supervision of the door.
Loud bangs and pops reverberated from several points in the property, and the air reeked of gunpowder as she scurried down the hallway to the server room. She carefully checked her perimeter and slowly climbed down the stairs, holding her stance in the event someone was still down there. Her heart soared at seeing the mainframe. She was so close to the treasure it contained she could taste success, taste the pleasure of having all those idiots who thought she wasn’t good enough choke on their tongues.
Finding the computer that had direct access to the mainframe, she tried to pull up the files stored in it. Nothing. Everything had been erased.
“Damn it!” Someone had deleted the evidence she needed to bring him down. Nikol stood and kicked the chair in a burst of anger, sending it scattering across the room. She would have to find another way. She had collected some already, but the files would be icing on the cake and seal the deal without argument.
Sergei. He had just become the key to getting more evidence. Back in the hall, Nikol made her way to the great room, the last place she had seen him, and, as she passed a window, caught sight of him running toward the back of the property as if the bats of hell were on his heels. Cutting through the kitchen, she sprinted through the disarray and out the back door, scrambling through the bushes in the direction he had taken.
Nikol hunched over and cut across the colorful flowerbeds, crushing the beautiful blooms under her heavy boots. A shot rang out. As she rounded the path, she found Sergei with his gun aimed at the top of the stone wall. A masochistic spark lit his eyes—the one that always gave her the creeps. “Who are you shooting at? Shouldn’t you be helping us i
nside? Zarev’s men are breaking through,” she yelled, running to join him. Her heart was in her throat, choking her as she bent over trying to catch her breath.
Sergei stared at the top of the wall a second more before dropping his arm at his side. A wicked, nasty grin curved the corners of his mouth. “The new guy,” he spat.
“What new guy?” Nikol surveyed the area. “Where’s the body?”
“He was on the wall. The swine was trying to escape. He toppled to the other side like a dead pig.” Satisfaction dripped from his every word.
Nikol took a step toward the wall. “Where do you think you are going?” Sergei demanded.
“To check the body.”
Sergei laughed. “He’s not going anywhere. We will go around through the park. Easier than breaking a neck going over the wall.” He cocked his head. “Follow me, little Nikol, and you will see. I have been waiting for this hunt a long time. A pity he was such poor prey. “
Nikol’s mind was troubled. Sergei preyed upon those who threatened his position. Dmitriy, Mikhailov’s nephew, had a place of honor on his shit list for being Mikhailov’s legitimate successor within the gang. There was only one other person Sergei seemed to hate more than he hated Dmitriy, and for some reason that was Ivanov. Kostas’s programmer. Another innocent lamb brought into the lion’s den to be slaughtered. Nikol crossed her arms and held her ground. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you are talking about and who you took down.”
In two large steps, Sergei reached her side, jerked her to him, and dug his gun in the flesh of her cheek. “Why do you always have to question me?” he ground out in a low, rough voice. “Just do what you are told, for once.”
He shoved her toward the house. Stumbling, Nikol caught herself. Biting back her rage as she straightened, she glanced up straight into the muzzle of the gun he pointed at her. Schooling her features, she nodded. She wasn’t sure she could hold back the disgust she held for him from coloring her voice if she spoke. Her finger itched to pull the trigger, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) Page 36