In His Sights

by Nikita Slater

  The breath left Lucy’s body and she nodded. He would come back and kill her himself if Maria was harmed. He would kill anyone and everyone involved in Maria’s disappearance. DeLuca stood and climbed out of the hole leaving Lucy behind. He had no further use for her. He’d gained what he needed and made his point. He strode away from the scene, his men following suit, dumping Mack in the dirt with a warning not to get up until they were gone.

  Lucy folded in on herself, curling onto her side and hugging her head into her chest, sobs cresting as she waited for the one person she wanted most to come for her. And then he was there. He’d ignored the threat from DeLuca’s men and slid into the hole, right on top of her. She could feel his heat enveloping her, his familiar scent wrapping all around her. She cried harder as he cradled her against his broad chest, tucking her head under his chin and rocking her.

  “I got you now, baby girl,” he murmured, holding her tight while her tears spilled over.

  He rocked her against him until her sobs finally subsided and she lay weakly against him. It was then that she felt the dampness against the top of her head and realized that had been crying with her. Her broken bounty hunter, the hardest man she knew, was crying for her. Lucy wanted to process that thought, to figure out what it meant, but the horror of the past few hours combined with DeLuca’s threat was overwhelming her. She blinked away more tears and pushed at Mack’s chest.

  “C-can we go now,” she whispered brokenly. “Please, Mack. I can’t stand it in here anymore.”

  “Of course, baby,” he said right away and stood with her held tight in his arms.

  Someone reached down to take her from Mack, but he growled a vicious warning that vibrated through his chest and into her body. Lucy snuggled against him and closed her eyes, completely exhausted, halfway between falling asleep and passing out. She realized that her shoes were missing. Just… gone. She was trying to figure out if the missing shoes bothered her and if she should ask someone to check the hole for her shoes when she felt herself being lifted. The other men, whoever they were, had grasped hold of Mack’s arms and lifted them out together since he refused to give her up even for a second.

  “Heavy…” Lucy said with a yawn, unable to open her eyes.

  “What’s that?” Mack dipped his head to her ear, his bristly chin tickling her skin.

  Lucy shivered at the contact. “I feel heavy,” she whispered, her voice trailing off. “So… tired.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. Get some rest,” he rumbled above her.

  Lucy allowed herself to drift, safe in his arms. The cool evening air caressed her skin, but the warmth of his chest kept the chill away. She could hear Jane’s voice, strident and angry, arguing. A slight smile curved Lucy’s lips. Jane was being Jane.

  “She’s coming home with us,” Jane snapped.

  Lucy felt Jane’s hand curve around her shoulder, surprisingly gentle for a woman not known to be anything even remotely soft or gentle. Jane pressed her head against Lucy’s neck and shuddered, exhaling against her, hands gripping her. Mack allowed the two sister’s their moment, though he didn’t release Lucy.

  Lucy rolled her head to the side against Mack’s elbow and cracked her eyes, forcing them open so she could see her older sister. Jane stared back at her, matching brown eyes locked together. Mack was so tall that the two sisters were almost face to face. Jane pressed her small hand against Lucy’s cheek and then laid her forehead against Lucy’s as well.

  “I thought I lost you,” she whispered, her voice breaking on a sob.

  Lucy nodded a little. “I know… me too.”

  “You scared me, brat.”

  Lucy laughed a little. “I scared me too.”

  Jane gave her a watery smile. “I want you home with me,” she said desperately. “Please come home with us. We’ll take care of you, make sure this shit never happens again.”

  Lucy opened her mouth to say something… she didn’t know what. She didn’t know how to respond. It didn’t matter. Mack jerked her back, out of Jane’s hands. “No,” he rumbled from above them. “She comes home with me.”

  He didn’t argue, didn’t wait to see what Jane would say. He turned on his heel and walked away toward his truck, Lucy held tightly in his arms. She felt the stiffness in his body and realized he didn’t know how the Russians would handle his decision. He wouldn’t stand a chance if Vlad ordered his men to stop Mack.

  Vlad didn’t move a muscle, except to restrain his wife when she would have lunged after Mack and Lucy. Not even when Jane cried out, “Stop them! Vlad, please!”

  Vlad held her arm in a tight grip and watched dispassionately as Mack loaded Lucy into his truck as though he were carrying the most precious package he’d ever touched. He placed her in the passenger seat and buckled the belt. Then he reached into the back seat and grabbed a blanket, tucking it around her. He climbed into the driver’s seat and drove away from the scrap metal yard, leaving behind the most terrifying moments of Lucy’s life.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Why did you let him just leave with her?” Jane turned on Vlad, yanking her arm in an attempt to pull away from him. She was so upset over the near death of her baby sister she could barely control her anger. Nausea threatened to well up once again and she shoved it ruthlessly aside.

  Vlad, who had been tracking the truck out of the yard, turned cold eyes toward his wife, pinning her with all of the pent-up fury he’d been storing up over a long evening of dogging her footsteps through the city. “You will stop speaking, Jane,” he said in a coldly furious voice, “And calm yourself.”

  “Fuck you,” she spat, furiously, unheeding of his warning. “You let him take my sister, knowing we can do a better job of protecting her! Go and get her back!”

  Vlad reacted swiftly, gripping her face in his other hand and shaking her. He checked his strength so as not to hurt her or the baby, but she could feel the fury vibrating through his tense body and knew he wanted to unleash on her. His grip on her face was steel and he used it to drag her against his long, lean frame. She gasped and tried to wrench back, but he held firm.

  He bent until his lips were a whisper away from hers and said in a low, sinister voice, “I’m done, Jane.”

  Shock flashed through her, stiffening her body. “Done?” she whispered. Had she finally pushed her husband too far? Fear and hurt collided within her. What was he going to do with her? Just let her go? Release her into the world because she was too much trouble? And what about the baby? Somehow, she didn’t believe he would do that. Even if he didn’t want her anymore, he would still want the baby.

  He must have read some of the thoughts on her expressive face. Pity flashed in his eyes and he brushed a thumb across her lips. “Even after the time we have spent together, you still do not understand the depths of my feelings for you, Jane malysh.” His eyes hardened, and his fingers tightened on her face. “It is these feelings, this need to protect you, and your reckless disregard for my feelings that have driven us to this point, my love. I will never let you go.”

  Relief flooded through her, making her feel weak in the knees. She was suddenly very glad for the hold he had on her because she didn’t think she could remain upright otherwise. He still wanted her; he wasn’t going to get rid of her. But then… what was he going to do with her?

  Without another word, he took her arm and pulled her toward his car, jerking his chin toward his men. Jane looked around one last time at the horrific scene that might have ended tragically before Vlad shoved her into the car. She would have crawled all the way across, but he stopped her, forcing her into the seat next to his. She reached for her seatbelt, but he took it from her fingers and latched it himself as though believing her incapable of even that small safety task. She narrowed her eyes in the darkness of the vehicle and bit back a growl of annoyance. Clearly, they were going to have it out when they got home.

  Jane watched Vlad warily as he buckled himself in and gave the command for the driver to take them
home. Without looking at her, Vlad said, “Get some rest.” Jane caught the implication. She would need it for the hours to come. Her stomach dropped and, for once, she listened, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

  It was a long drive back to their home and Jane slept most of the 45 minutes, the stress of the evening taking its toll on her body. She woke to Vlad unbuckling her seatbelt and lifting her from the car.

  “I can walk,” she said sleepily, shoving against his chest, still pissed off that he’d allowed Mack to just take Lucy instead of putting up a fight to get her sister back.

  “Be still,” he snapped, striding with her.

  Jane relented, deciding she probably had bigger battles to fight. Imminent battles. She snuggled closer against his chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the heat from her body. She was halfway to drifting back to sleep when she realized they hadn’t actually entered the house and his shoes were no longer striking pavement. Jane frowned and lifted her head. They were crossing the back yard. Toward the bunker. Where he’d locked her up one year ago.

  Jane shouted something unintelligible and surged up in his arms, twisting sideways and sending an elbow toward his throat. Vlad reacted instantly taking her right to the grass where he held her face-down with her wrists behind her back. He kept her pinned while she struggled beneath him. The tight dress wiggled up her hips until it was nearly at her waist, revealing the black lace panties Anya had insisted she wear.

  “Calm the fuck down Jane before you hurt our child,” he growled from above her.

  “You’re the one hurting it, not me!” she yelled still twisting, but her struggles grew weaker as exhaustion overtook her.

  Vlad flipped her over onto her back, pulled her hands over her head and leaned over her between her spread legs. He placed his entire length, his entire weight across her, careful not to put pressure on her stomach. Their position should have been sexual, but his anger with her was so profound she thought he might kill her in that moment.

  “I’ve had enough of this Jane,” he yelled, his voice thundering across the lawn. She froze. She’d never heard him raise his voice before. It was terrifying. It would have been awe-inspiring if it weren’t directed at her. “I’ve had enough of you. You have gone too far this time. Too fucking far. If I could, I would tear our baby out of you right now just to keep it safe from your stupidity and bury you so deep in Russia with my bratva kin you would never see the light of day.”

  Her mouth fell open and tears threatened to spill. Then Jane did what Jane did best, she came up fighting. She bared her teeth in a snarl and spit at him. She was proud to see it land on his neck and drip into the collar of his shirt. Or she was proud for about three seconds, until the look in his eyes turned glacial. Maybe she had gone too far this time. Fuck, was she ever a bad judge of how to handle her husband.

  Vlad moved his hand to her neck and pinned her to the ground so hard she wouldn’t have been able to breath if they were anywhere except on spongy grass. “Do you have any idea who I am?” he snarled.

  She glared up at him.

  “This is the last time you will insult me like this, I promise you, Jane.”

  Jane doubted it. Unless he really did kill her this time.

  Vlad stood, lifting her by the neck. She choked a little, but he let her go right away, gripped her arm and began dragging her toward the bunker. She didn’t bother struggling, knowing it was useless. Vlad would manhandle her painfully if she tried to fight him again. It wasn’t worth any more bruises.

  He punched in a long code that she wasn’t quick enough to catch and yanked her inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He dragged her past row after row of wine bottles, deeper into his prison. The last time he’d brought her here, he’d admitted that this was where he interrogated enemies and kept prisoners. Jane shivered. She supposed she was both to him now.

  He took her directly to the same cell as before and opened the door. She gaped in surprise as he shoved her inside. It was completely different. Slowly she turned to face him accusation burning bright in her eyes. “You were planning this.”

  Instead of the single plank cot and toilet she remembered from her previous stay, the space had been transformed into a lovely room with a four-poster bed, a book shelf, a dresser, a vanity and a private washroom.

  He nodded sharply and stepped back, preparing to leave. “I knew you wouldn’t settle into this pregnancy, Jane. I knew you would put yourself and our unborn child in danger. I am sorry, malysh. This is the only way I know how to protect you. You will remain here until our child is born.”

  He slammed the door shut and left her alone in the place that was to be her prison for the next five months.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lucy couldn’t move. Like a broken doll she was forced to lay perfectly still, arms bent at odd angles, legs up against her chest, stuffed sideways so she would fit. Her eyes were open. Wide open. It was dark, but she could still somehow see. She was wearing her blue smock and apron. She could feel the pins digging into her scalp and knew she must be wearing her bonnet, though she couldn’t reach up to check for herself. She was either paralyzed or too cramped to move.

  She lay that way for what felt like years but was maybe only a few minutes. She badly wanted to know what was next. She wasn’t afraid though, she was simply curious. Lucy had never been a patient person, not even on the farm. Her dad used to comment all the time about how much like her sister she was. He never said it within her mother’s hearing. They both knew it was Kathryn’s worst fear that Lucy might turn out to be too much like Jane. Wild, willful and with a craving for the world around them that would never be satisfied by their small Amish community. Neither Joseph nor Lucy acknowledged the truth, but as Lucy grew, Kathryn’s fears became fact.

  “Daddy.” Lucy formed the word though no sound escaped.

  A tear slid from her open, staring eye, to trail across her cheek and drip onto the ground, soaking into the dirt underneath her. She tried to blink but couldn’t. She was frozen. Like a doll, only worse. She was no one’s plaything. She was a broken toy, about to be discarded with the rest of the trash.

  She felt something hit her hip and then scatter and roll across her. She wanted to cry out and scream, the fear that was absent before bubbled up inside her. But her lungs were paralyzed, the only sound emerging a rattling breath.

  She was hit again and again. It didn’t hurt, but each smack terrorized her, until her brain was a mess of screaming agony. After a moment she calmed down enough to realize that her limbs and body were growing heavier. Whatever was landing on her was weighing her down, pinning her to the earth. She wanted to whimper and cry out, but all she could do was cry silent tears.

  And then she knew. She finally realized what was hitting her. Because it reached her head. Dirt. A shovel-full of dirt was tossed in her face, scattering across her unblinking eyes and covering her mouth. She was being buried alive.

  With each scoop that covered her, the breath in Lucy’s body slowed, rattling in her chest. Soon her eyes were covered, and she could see nothing. Her nose and mouth filled. She lay helpless as she suffocated. Again.

  This was no beautiful dream with her childhood horse, Cinnamon, and her lover cradling her against his chest as she took her last breath. This was her death the way it was meant to happen. Cold, bleak, alone.

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  Lucy blinked.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mack answered the front door swiftly before the banging woke Lucy up. She’d been sleeping fitfully for over an hour since they got back to his place.

  He was in the process of letting Sitnikov’s doctor in the door when he heard a muffled scream from the bedroom. He didn’t think twice. He left the old man standing in the doorway and hurtled down the hallway toward Lucy. He didn’t give two shits what the man thought, he wasn’t going to leave his woman alone when she needed him, though he suspected it was only a nightmare.

  His heart wrenched wide open when
he opened the bedroom door and found her curled on her side, arms wrapped around her head, tears streaming down her face, fingernails clawing at her face as she mumbled to herself. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and took her wrists in his hands and gently pried her fingers away from her face.

  “Come on, baby, time to wake up,” he said, his voice breaking a little. He knew he’d spoken too softly when she didn’t respond. But fuck, her face was a bloody mess with scratch marks all down one side and her forehead creased in terror.

  He dropped his head for a moment, swallowed hard and then looked up at her. He pressed her fragile wrist into the bedding and stood over her, giving her a shake. “Lucy, wake up,” he said firmly.

  Her eyes flew open and she half lunged up in the bed toward him, a cry on her lips and terror etched across her face. He immediately let her wrists go and gathered her into his arms. She didn’t protest, instead wrapping her arms tight around his neck and sobbing against him. He held her until her tears abated.

  “You okay, baby?” he asked softly, moving a section of hair that had gotten stuck to her face during her crying storm behind her ear.

  She nodded, though she didn’t say anything and when he stood, she burrowed into the blanket and turned her back on him, shuddering against an imagined cold. Mack stifled the urge to reach for her and drag her back against his body, to insist she turn toward him, rather than away. She should be seeking solace with him. He swallowed a vicious curse and turned, leaving the room to find the doctor waiting patiently for him in the front entrance.

  “Why are you here?” Mack asked the man bluntly, already knowing the answer, but refusing to make his job any easier.