With every scoot, the branch dipped and creaked. I took a trembling breath, squeezing my eyes shut to steady my breath. I swung my leg over so I was sitting side-saddle on the thick branch. The wall was only about two feet away, but it felt like a chasm separated me from it.
I glanced towards the house and saw my mother in the kitchen window. She was rubbing Dart’s head. I could see her lips moving as she talked to him and I took a deep, calming breath.
I had to get to her and tell her what was going on. I had to get her out of there.
I launched myself off the branch and landed on the wall with a loud oof. My ribs hit the edge of the wall and pain exploded through my chest. I clung on for dear life. When my heartbeat had settled slightly, I swung my legs over and let myself drop on the other side.
I was in.
If it hadn’t been for Mags, I wouldn’t have known how to do that. If it hadn’t been for Zane, I wouldn’t have had the courage to go through with it.
It felt like the rest of my life had been a dream, and I was only now realizing who I really was. I had strength inside me, courage and guts that I didn’t know existed. It was exhilarating.
I crept towards the house, keeping my eyes scanning back and forth. James was walking back towards the gate, and I saw another security guard walking along the side of the house.
They wouldn’t be inside—Mom wouldn’t allow it. She liked as much privacy as a Senator’s wife was allowed to have.
So, when the coast was clear, I made a run for the kitchen door. My breath was ragged, my heart thumping, and every muscle in my body screaming with the effort.
I reached the sliding glass door and pulled.
“No,” I said under my breath. Locked.
My mother had disappeared from view, but I saw Dart’s head appeared around the corner.
“Come on boy,” I whispered. “Come on, go get Mom.”
Dart whined, trotting towards me. My mother called for him, and he barked.
“Shh,” I told him. “Quiet. Come on Dart, go get her.” D’Artagnan cocked his head to the side and sat down on the other side of the door. I pointed towards the living room. “Go get Mom, Dart. Come on.” I jumped up and down, sighing. He put his paw on the window where my hand was, and panic started to grip my throat.
“Dart,” I hissed. “Go!”
Finally understanding me, my beautiful dog turned around and trotted towards the living room. I tapped my foot on the ground, waiting for my mother to turn the corner and let me in.
Her voice got louder. Any second, she’d appear in the kitchen and let me in. My heart hammered as the seconds crawled past. I glanced over my shoulder, but James was out of view. There was no one there.
She was almost in the kitchen. I saw her leg, step into view, and then her torso and her head. She was staring back towards D’Artagnan and my breath caught. I called out to her, to let her know that I was here—
But a hand clamped over my mouth. My voice was stifled as I was yanked away from the window and dragged along the side of the house. I tried to scream but couldn’t with the gloved hand over my mouth. My heart jumped in my throat as my hands flew to my assailant’s arm. He gripped me tightly, dragging my kicking, flailing body into the shadows.
Terror turned my blood to ice. I scratched and clawed and twisted as my heart raced. A lump formed in my throat as my eyes bulged, but the man didn’t even flinch. He dragged me further away and hugged me against the wall. He smelled like wet cabbage and I gagged.
My mother appeared at the window and glanced out. I tried to scream again, but the arm around me squeezed me so tight I heard my ribs crack.
“There’s no one here, D’Artagnan,” I heard her say. “Why’d you make me get up for nothing?”
She turned away from the window, and took all my hope with her. As soon as she disappeared from view, my whole body went limp and despair flooded my spirit.
I’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.
It was over.
19
Zane
Balmoral wasn’t trying to run or hide or do anything out of the ordinary. It’s like his engagement had fallen apart, and he didn’t give a damn about it. He had no idea that he was in the center of a shitstorm of epic proportions. I found him in his office, getting his dick sucked by his secretary.
When I walked in, she jumped up and Balmoral yelped.
“What the fuck?”
I nodded to the open door. “Get out,” I told the woman. She gripped her shirt closed and shuffled past me, smelling of stale cock and fear.
Thomas Balmoral zipped up his pants and stood up to face me.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Is it your personal mission to cock block me?”
“It’s my personal mission to ruin your pathetic fucking life, dickhead,” I growled, closing the door after his secretary. She’d sucked his cock before, I could tell. She probably would have kept doing it after he married Sadie, too, and I hated him for it.
I hated him for assaulting her, I hated him for dealing with the Russians, I hated him for using her for his own gain. She deserved better than this cockstain.
“Sit down.”
Balmoral stared at me for a few seconds, and finally sank back down into his executive chair. His hand reached under his desk, towards what I assumed was a panic button. I chuckled.
“The comms to your office are disconnected. It’s just you and me.”
His eyes widened, and he picked up the phone on his desk. Putting it to his ear, his face fell when he confirmed what I just told him. It was dead, and he was on his own.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I think the better question, Mr. Balmoral,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “is who the fuck are you, and why are you making a deal with one of the most dangerous and untouchable men in the Russian mafia?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He fidgeted. Liar.
“Tell me about Mikhail Ivanov.” I took a seat across from him and folded my hands on my lap. On paper, Ivanov was clean. Only real players knew how dangerous he was. Balmoral’s eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He shook his head.
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Tsk-tsk, Thomas.” I shook my head, my eyes staying steady on his little beady orbs. “Lying won’t do you any favors.”
“You need to leave.”
I leaned forward, flipping open my jacket to show him the butt of my weapon. His eyes flicked down and then back up to my face. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.
“Now listen to me, Balmoral. You’ve had it easy so far. You’ve been protected—shielded by our old friend, Nathan Blanchet. But without Sadie, that protection is gone. Your connection to the Russians becomes crystal clear. A weapons manufacturer colluding with known Russian operatives to ease weapons trade into and out of the United States? Doesn’t look too good from where I’m sitting.”
“You have no proof.”
I chuckled. “With Blanchet in the picture, no. Maybe not. He’d take the fall for you if this were to go public. But he’s burned his bridges with Ivanov. You’re out in the open. It’s only a matter of time before the Russians force your hand, and then you’ll be breaking more laws than you know how to handle.”
Balmoral shifted in his seat. His eyes darted around the room. I had him. He was so close to breaking, I could feel it. He’d been lured in by the promise of making money with Nathan Blanchet, but now the reality was setting in. He didn’t have the stomach for this.
He shook his head. “I haven’t… I don’t…”
“Cut the bullshit, Balmoral. I know that your engagement was part of the deal. I know about Global Production Services, and I know that you were going to get a fat paycheck from dealing with the Russians.”
A bead of sweat trailed down his face. He was weaker than I’d anticipated. He was going to crack.
Balmoral swallowed. He shook h
is head, but his voice trembled when he spoke. “You have no proof.”
“A judge is signing a warrant as we speak to look into the GPS accounts.” That was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. It would happen soon enough. Still, I continued. “What are we going to find when we look into those accounts, Thomas?”
“I have nothing to do with GPS. I don’t even know what that is.”
“Thomas,” I chuckled. “Please. Don’t embarrass yourself.”
“Who the fuck are you? Professor Dennis Norton? I don’t think so.”
He stared at me, and I saw the fear in his eyes. He was backed into a corner, and I just had to deliver the killing blow. What that blow needed to be was the problem. Would he respond to force, to threats, to strength? I looked at the man across from me and decided that what he needed was the truth.
“I work for the CIA. My name is Zane Wolfe, and you’ve landed yourself right in the middle of a top-secret issue of National Security. Understand something, Balmoral.” My eyes hardened. A vein in his jaw pulsed. “You are nothing. If you help us to nail Senator Blanchet and Ivanov, your involvement might… poof!” I let my hands flutter in front of me. “It might just go away.”
The wheels were turning in his head. He took a long breath, studying my face. Finally, he opened his mouth and said one word:
“Why?”
I arched an eyebrow.
“Why would you let me off if I cooperated?”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “You think we give a fuck about you, when the rot runs as deep as U.S. Senator? Come on, Thomas. For one moment in your miserable fucking life, think about this situation logically. You don’t need to ruin everything for some deal that will bring more trouble than it’s worth.”
His face fell.
Got him.
He was a businessman. He was an expert at assessing risks and benefits and seeing if investments would pay off. Right now, he was analyzing his investment in Senator Nathan Blanchet’s little gun racket, and the risks were far outweighing the benefits.
I sighed. “Look, we can protect you. What do you think Ivanov will do when he finds out you’ve been ratting to the CIA?”
“I’m not ratting on anyone.”
“He doesn’t know that.” My eyes narrowed. “I once watched him pull out a man’s fingernails one by one over three hundred dollars. What do you think he would do over three hundred million dollars?”
He wiped the bead of sweat away, his eyes glancing around the room. He was panicking, as he should be. He’d made a bad deal, and he got caught.
Then, a sense of calm seemed to wash over him. The lines in his face smoothed, and his eyes became clearer. He nodded. “What do I need to do?”
“Come with me.”
He stood up, his head hanging down, and hope blossomed in my chest. One down, two to go. If we could flip Balmoral, it brought us that much closer to putting the final nail in Nathan Blanchet’s coffin.
The thought of ruining Blanchet’s life still made my heart thump, but it didn’t have the weight it had before. As I led Balmoral down the elevator and out to my car, my thoughts went to Sadie.
I realized, like a sledgehammer hitting me in the middle of my chest, that I didn’t care about Blanchet’s destruction anywhere near as much as I cared about Sadie’s wellbeing.
I put Balmoral in the passenger’s seat and pulled out a pair of zip-tie handcuffs. “Sorry, Tommy-boy, but you’re going to have to put these on.”
“Is that really necessary? I’m cooperating.”
“Hold out your hands.”
He sighed, his eyes filling with bitter tears. I secured his hands and closed the door, jogging around to the driver’s seat. I’d drive him to HQ, and then go check on Sadie. As soon as I knew she was safe, I would head to Ivanov’s to get briefed on the situation with the Russians. With any luck, I’d be able to apprehend the whole fucking crew tonight, and this nightmare would be over.
We drove in silence, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Sadie. Her whole life had been destroyed, but she still found a way to laugh through it all. The tension lined her face, but she still managed to smile.
She wasn’t like me.
She was better.
Bitterness didn’t ruin her. She didn’t care about revenge, she cared about happiness. She cared about dogs. She cared about life.
I pressed on the accelerator and zoomed down the quiet streets towards the operation’s headquarters. When we were only a few minutes away, my phone rang.
“Chris, what’s going on?” I said as I answered.
“We have a problem.” I knew that tone of voice. He needed me now. If I drove to HQ, it would take at least 20 minutes to process Balmoral, and who knows where Chris would be by then. I didn’t have time. I’d have to take Balmoral with me for now.
“Where are you? I’m on my way.”
“I’m at Ivanov’s house. They just brought Blanchet in, and it didn’t look good. Got him as he was leaving the office and stuffed him in the back of a car and—oh, fuck.”
I turned the car on and started backing out. “What? What’s going on?”
I was at least ten minutes away from Ivanov’s house, and I had the third major player in this whole fucked up operation with me.
“Zane, you gotta get over here.”
“What the fuck is going on, Chris?”
“Grigory just pulled up. They’ve got Sadie. They just brought her in.”
Anger, panic, rage, possessiveness—they all flared inside me as I peeled around the median and made a quick U-turn. I ran a stop sign, not caring about anything except getting my ass to Ivanov’s place.
Thomas Balmoral made a yelping noise and I ignored him.
“What the fuck do you mean? I left her at my place, I told her to stay! How did they know…?”
“Grigory was on Blanchet’s house. Maybe she…”
“She wouldn’t have left. I told her to stay! Why would she go right back home?” My voice was strained. I could feel the heart pumping thick, hot blood through my constricting veins. It was hard to breathe and my vision was tunneling.
Not Sadie. Not like this. They didn’t need her. The deal with Balmoral was done, so they didn’t need Sadie for anything. She was innocent.
Fucking Ivanov.
His words rang in my head—what he’d said to me that day at his office.
“Shame about the daughter. I was hoping he’d marry her off to one of us. I’ve seen her, and she’s a pretty little thing, for an American.”
Blanchet had exposed himself to the Russians, shown his hand, and blown the deal. Now, Ivanov was going to get even. He was either going to keep Sadie as his plaything, or teach Nathan Blanchet a lesson.
I shook my head and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I didn’t want to think about what he would do to Sadie. I kept my eyes on the road, driving as fast as I possibly could through the dark night and rushed towards the woman who had changed everything for me.
This wasn’t about revenge anymore. It wasn’t about Nathan Blanchet, or what he’d done to my parents.
This was about Sadie.
She didn’t deserve any of this. She just wanted to live a good, quiet life. She was good. She was pure. She was innocent.
Right now, I didn’t give a fuck what happened to Nathan Blanchet. If Ivanov put a gun to his head, I wouldn’t stop him, but the need to be the one who pulled the trigger was gone. I didn’t need revenge.
Senator Blanchet’s life was already ruined.
Then, it felt like the sun was coming up over the horizon and I was seeing things clearly for the first time. Dawn was breaking on my life after fifteen years of deep, dark night. In this moment of crisis, I finally understood that I’d been wrong.
My parents didn’t need to be avenged. They were pacifists. They left Iraq to flee the violence, and they lived peacefully. They wouldn’t want me to kill for them.
They’d want me to love for them. They would want me to forgive and move o
n, and live the peaceful, quiet life that they so wanted. Living my life in bitterness and in anger would disappoint them more than anything else.
I’d wasted so many years on Nathan Blanchet. Wasted years thinking about him, obsessing over him, hating him. What I should have done was lived a life that my parents would be proud of. Avenging their death would have made them miserable, not proud. If they saw me now, they wouldn’t recognize me.
Tears smarted my eyes as I turned the last corner and came to a stop behind Chris’s surveillance van. I took a deep breath, killing the engine and turning to Balmoral.
“Come on,” I said. “We’re going.”
This would end tonight. All of it—Blanchet, Balmoral, Ivanov. The operation would be blown open tonight, and my only goal was walking away with Sadie by my side.
20
Sadie
The smell of boiled cabbage and stale onions that emanated from the big Russian was nauseating. He dragged me along the side of the house, and I saw one of my parents’ security guards unconscious near the front door. I hoped he wasn’t dead. My eyes pricked with tears as panic started to set in.
The smell didn’t help.
When the Russian stuffed me in the car, I wanted to throw up. The huge, lumbering man locked me in the back seat and slipped into the driver’s seat as his partner went to the passenger’s side. Their guns glinted in the streetlight, strapped to their belts like trophies.
I watched the driver draw his unibrow even closer together as he drove off down the street. Glancing out the back windscreen, I felt a sob choke me as my childhood home slipped further and further away.
The two men muttered to each other in Russian.
“Where are you taking me?” I interrupted.
His Vow: The Protector Series: Book 1 Page 15