Katie pressed hard into his mind, staying his finger on the trigger. They’re friendly.
Jamie recognized Alexei and Matthew a split second later and he stopped fighting Katie’s control for his weapon. She left his mind again, turning her focus elsewhere.
Alexei was the first to reach Jamie’s position, steely gray eyes locked on him. At some point, Alexei must have removed his tactical goggles, most likely after Sean had phased him. Normally, Jamie would be annoyed that Alexei had ditched the eye protection just so he could see, but tonight wasn’t normal.
Nothing about this situation was normal.
“He in there?” Alexei asked brusquely.
Jamie didn’t need to ask which he Alexei meant. “Yes. Stanislav has Kyle.”
The rage in Alexei’s eyes was easy enough for Jamie to make out, despite the low lighting. It matched his own, as did the fearful worry.
“We go in.”
Jamie grabbed Alexei by the arm, holding him back. “No.”
Alexei jerked out of his grip more easily than he could have if Jamie still had his enhanced strength. “Not think I stay behind and—”
“I need you to find and eliminate Blanchett,” Jamie interrupted harshly. “Leave Kyle to me.”
Alexei looked like he wanted to argue—and Jamie understood that desire, he did—but they couldn’t all focus on the rescue and ignore the fight.
“Inferno, that’s an order,” Jamie reiterated.
Alexei clenched his jaw so tight the tendons in his neck stood out. When he spoke, his words were a snarl. “You find him. Bring him back.”
Jamie held Alexei’s gaze, refusing to look away. “I will.”
It wasn’t a lie, he told himself. Jamie meant it with every fiber of his being, but he couldn’t control the future, and he didn’t know what the one Stanislav had painted looked like.
He didn’t want to.
Matthew stepped up, signaling for his people to follow him. He nodded at Jamie before pushing at Alexei’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Inferno. Got a target to take out.”
Alexei went in one direction, and Jamie went in another, both with the same goal in mind.
To save Kyle.
In order to keep attention off the rear of the building where the others were breaking in, Jamie skirted the grand white building with its Neoclassical style and white marble marred by smoke blowing through the wind, making sure to be seen. It felt vaguely suicidal, but he doubted Stanislav wanted him dead—yet.
Gunfire echoed in the distance, shouts and screams from nearby pockets of fighting impossible to understand. Jamie tuned it all out when he finally came face-to-face with the imposing western front of the Supreme Court Building, the courtyard and steps ghostly empty. He could feel eyes on him, telling Jamie he wasn’t alone. The borrowed tactical vest and hard helmet he wore would be an afterthought of protection if a sniper wanted him dead right then.
Jamie kept walking.
Across the courtyard, up the steps, passing between two of the columns, Jamie made his way inside the highest court of the country, a place where justice was served. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
The ancient, bronze double doors leading into the Supreme Court Building were normally locked at this time of the night. They opened before he reached them, a familiar person standing framed in the doorway. Jamie’s hands tightened on his weapon as he approached Declan, ignoring the gun aimed in his direction.
“Callahan,” Declan said, the hatred in his voice impossible to miss.
“Wolcott,” Jamie threw back, with just as much vitriol.
Declan opened the door wider, stepping backward and gesturing sharply for Jamie to come inside. Behind Declan stood an ex-Special Forces operative, rifle aimed right at Jamie’s chest. Jamie entered the Supreme Court Building without hesitation, not fighting when another operative immediately moved to disarm him. Refusing to give up his weapons might put Kyle in even worse danger, and Jamie wasn’t willing to risk that.
He was stripped of his rifle and handguns, his tactical vest and hard helmet, the knife in his belt and the last grenade one of the Strike Force soldiers had shared with him during their push forward near the White House. All of it was removed until Jamie was standing in his uniform evening dress pants and shirt, black shoes having long since lost their shine.
Declan stepped in close, never taking his eyes off Jamie. The older man looked the same as he had in Boston, full of righteous fury and a grief that hadn’t yet left him. Valerie Hayes had died by Jamie’s hand, in full view of Declan through an uplink. Killing Declan’s wife had drawn the former owner of North Star International to Stanislav’s side, turning him into little more than a mercenary.
“What did Stanislav promise you?” Jamie asked, breaking the silence.
The corner of Declan’s mouth twitched. “Revenge against you and the government that turned its back on me.”
Jamie saw the blow coming and didn’t try to block it. Declan’s fist slammed against his jaw with excruciating force. Jamie’s head snapped to the side as pain exploded through his face, teeth cutting into his lips. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as he stumbled back a step, bracing himself for more hits that never came. The one was enough to prove Blanchett’s nullification power was still working. Which meant Alexei and the others still hadn’t located her yet.
Jamie moved his jaw, refusing to wince at the pain throbbing through every inch where Declan’s blow had landed. The heat in his skin spoke of oncoming bruises that wouldn’t have been a problem if his enhanced strength and durability hadn’t been stripped from his person through a neural power they couldn’t counter.
“Let’s go,” Declan said, prodding Jamie forward with the muzzle of his rifle.
Jamie went where he was herded. The ground floor of the Supreme Court Building had been built and decorated with the general public in mind, but he wouldn’t get a tour. He could see multiple armed operatives farther down the hall, with several using the John Marshall Statue as cover.
Declan and the other two operatives guided Jamie to the nearest gold and marble spiral staircase tucked into one of the side corridors. Jamie took the steps one at a time, the muzzle resting against his spine never moving. The Supreme Court Building was five stories tall, but they weren’t climbing to the top. When they reached the second floor landing, Declan shoved the muzzle harder against his spine, pushing him forward rather than up.
They made it to the second floor and the Grand Hall that stretched the length of the building before them, leading to the courtroom. Jamie scanned the immediate area for threats, feeding the placement of Declan’s men back to Katie, who would relay it to the others.
Have you located Blanchett? Jamie asked.
They have a strong telepath, Katie said, sounding aggravated.
Stronger than you?
No, but they haven’t been scanning through tens of thousands of minds all night. We’re working on it.
Jamie knew they were, but that was cold comfort as he walked through the Great Hall, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor and walls and the richly tiled coffered ceiling above. Marble busts of former Chief Justices lined the walls in between marble pillars, their ghostly faces casting judgment as the group walked by. Jamie sidestepped the body of a night security guard that lay on the floor, his blood congealing in a puddle against the marble. Jamie hoped Katie had the security system under her control and it wasn’t in the hands of anyone beholden to Declan or Stanislav.
At the end of the Great Hall was a single entrance with two burly men guarding it. Neither man looked like they belonged to Declan. They wore suits, not tactical body armor, which made them stick out nearly as much as their thick Russian accents when they spoke.
“Is who Pavluhkin want?” the taller man demanded.
“Do you think I’d walk just any fucker into his majesty’s presence?” Declan sneered. “Open the fucking door.”
Neither of Stanislav’s personal bodyguards seemed am
used by Declan’s attitude, but the one on the left opened the door. As with the Great Hall, the courtroom had all its lights turned on, the wooden benches for the public separated from the area reserved for the prosecution and defense parties by a low, gilded wall. Beyond it all was the raised, curved, nine-seat judicial bench that lorded over the space. Behind the justices’ seats was a line of marble pillars situated in front of red velvet curtains, the flag of the United States of America standing tall on either side of the bench.
Some of the chairs had been shoved aside, the oral argument table both parties sat at upended to the side of the room. In the space it left behind stood four men, but Jamie only cared about one of them.
His eyes locked on where Kyle stood, held in front of Stanislav like a human shield. Kyle’s too-pale face with its gray cast and half-lidded eyes seared into Jamie’s mind. His hands were cuffed in front of him, which would have been an ignorant move on Stanislav’s part if it weren’t for the fact that Kyle’s shirt was a torn and bloody mess, revealing heavily bruised skin over his middle. Proof of a gut shot wound that he’d survived, likely when Stanislav had ordered the attack on their condo, but which Kyle hadn’t fully healed from thanks to Blanchett.
Rage suffused Jamie so suddenly his vision went dark at the edges. He wanted to rip Stanislav apart limb by limb before making inroads on Declan for daring to touch what belonged to him. Kyle was alive, but there was little comfort to be found in that knowledge right now. As much as Jamie wanted to be by his side, he couldn’t, and the helplessness Jamie felt right then would be remembered until the day he died.
The rifle at his back shoved hard against his spine again, forcing Jamie to move. Swallowing against the dryness in his mouth, Jamie walked into the courtroom and down the aisles separating the benches and chairs to get to the man he loved.
“A shame we couldn’t have met again under better circumstances. Say, another dinner?” Stanislav said. He dug the handgun he held harder into Kyle’s bruised side, pulling a painful sound from Kyle.
Jamie unconsciously took a step forward, but Declan yanked him back, slamming the butt of his rifle against Jamie’s shoulder as a warning. Hot pain streaked down his arm, followed by a tingling numbness that slowly faded. He ignored both.
“I’m here,” Jamie ground out. “Like you wanted.”
Stanislav smiled at him, the mockery in his blue-eyed gaze cutting deep. “Like the good dog you are, da? You will learn your place, Jamie.”
Jamie said nothing to that, his gaze locked on Kyle. Even as he watched, Kyle’s glassy, green-eyed gaze struggled to focus on him. Severe blood loss from his wound hadn’t yet reversed itself, and wouldn’t until they got him clear of Blanchett’s nullification field.
Kyle is here, Jamie said through the mental link, unable to keep his anger and desperation out of his mental tone. Can you telepathically reach him?
Stanislav’s telepath is blocking both Mercedes and me, Katie replied, her mental voice drawn tight from stress.
Have you found Blanchett yet?
We’re trying to reach her.
Try harder.
The sound of gunfire going off in the floors above wasn’t enough to get Jamie to look away from Kyle. Stanislav sighed, sounding bored, before waving his gun at Declan.
“Take your men. Deal with the rats,” Stanislav ordered.
“You said he’d come alone,” Declan snapped.
The glare Stanislav directed his way could’ve peeled flesh from bone. “I saw no such thing tonight. Now go. Do as I say.”
He gave the order as if he expected immediate obedience. Whether out of fear or resentment, or some combination of the two, Declan did as he was told. He left, taking his handful of men with him, leaving Jamie alone with Stanislav, Kyle, and the two Russian bodyguards who moved to flank him. Jamie eyed the pair on either side of him, carefully weighing the risk of taking them out.
“Difficult to find good people,” Stanislav said, placing the gun back against Kyle’s side in a clear warning.
It reminded Jamie of a previous conversation they’d had last year in London, when their orbits first crashed against each other. Only this time, he didn’t try to ingratiate himself to Stanislav’s good graces for the sake of his country.
“I’ve noticed,” Jamie finally said, clenching his hands into fists.
“You were never good. But I saw that.”
“Did you?”
“I saw all of this, each step, each day to bring you here,” Stanislav boasted.
“I really fucking doubt that.”
The future was always changing. Jamie refused to believe they’d all made decisions based on a single man’s cutthroat desire for political power and monetary gain.
“Think what you like, but you are here, with no way out except through me.” Stanislav shrugged, hauling Kyle a little higher when his knees gave out. “And you won’t risk his life.”
The utter certainty in Stanislav’s voice was a terrible truth. Jamie took a step forward, eyes on Kyle, not liking the raspy breaths coming out of his mouth, nor the light sheen of sweat that covered his pale face.
One of the bodyguards grabbed Jamie by the shoulder and hauled him back. Jamie tried to shrug him off, but only got a heavy punch to his stomach for his troubles. The hit drove the breath from his lungs, and Jamie doubled over for a couple of seconds. Forcing his lungs to expand, Jamie drew in a deep breath that hurt as he straightened up. Stanislav watched him, still hiding behind Kyle with a smirk on his face.
“What do you want?” Jamie asked.
“Ah, now you think to bargain.” Stanislav tapped the gun against Kyle’s body. “All it took was a small persuasion.”
“Fuck you,” Kyle slurred, blinking rapidly.
Stanislav chuckled as he shifted his other arm, gliding his hand up Kyle’s wounded torso to wrap his hand around his throat. “Perhaps later I will take you up on your offer.”
“He’s not offering,” Jamie growled.
Stanislav’s gaze tracked back to Jamie, the shrewdness in his eyes not to be underestimated. “Is that so?”
“You took Kyle to get to me. He’s not who you want. I am. I’m here, Stanislav. So what the fuck do you want from me? Money? Support? A way out?”
Jamie didn’t try to hide the desperation in his voice. Stanislav held all the cards that mattered to him in the shape of the only man he’d ever loved. Pretending he wasn’t affected was a lie they both would see through.
“I don’t need you to find my way out,” Stanislav told him. “Your government can’t stop me. Your team can’t stop me. You’ll do what I say, when I say, because the alternative is I put a bullet through your pet’s pretty eyes.”
“Not his fucking pet,” Kyle choked out.
“Ah, yes. Fiancé. The things people do for love.” Stanislav’s fingers tightened on Kyle’s throat, wrenching a horrible sound out of him. “Declan knows. You shot his wife, Jamie. If she had lived, he wouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“Then maybe she shouldn’t have been torturing innocent people with Splice,” Jamie said in a hard voice.
“People are a lucrative commodity. Metahumans even more so. But governments, they want to own us. They want to use us for their own gains. Are you not tired of this leash they have you on? My country, it is home. I love her, but she does not love me. I will not bow to the Kremlin as my father did.”
Jamie thought about what Yulia had said at the Empyrean brand party last November, when she implied the Pavluhkins had fallen out of favor with the Kremlin. It seemed she’d been right.
“But you expect me to bow to you?” Jamie asked.
“I expect many things from you, Jamie. I will give your father the presidency, let you keep your family alive, while you oversee your family’s many and varied companies. Do you understand?”
Jamie shook his head, letting out a hollow little laugh. “You want a business partnership.”
“I want a future where my family will be acknowledged.
Untouchable. I will get there through you. And one day the Kremlin will be mine.”
Because money was forever the measure of the haves and have-nots, and Jamie’s family was one of the richest in the world, with deep political clout. They’d been targeted before, but never like this. What’s more, they never would have been in this situation to begin with if Jamie hadn’t agreed to the MDF’s request last year.
Jamie might not be a precog, but he could see how Stanislav would use Jamie’s status to gain legitimacy in the eyes of the public, despite their seemingly tarnished reputations at the moment. The Kremlin might have turned against the Pavluhkins, but power came through money, and Jamie didn’t doubt Stanislav’s goal would be to one day rule not just over the people he’d blackmailed, but the country that was trying to exile him, if not outright kill him.
“You think you can outrun every government who will come after you?” Jamie asked.
Stanislav smiled coldly. “I’ll always see them coming. How do you think I came to own Bennett? How do you think I’ve come to own you?”
Jamie took a step forward again, ready this time for the hand that clamped down on his shoulder, because he was done with holding back. It was a risk, but Jamie weighed it against Stanislav’s precognition, and went for it.
He spun on his feet and ducked underneath the man’s arm, grabbing him by the wrist and shoulder. Jamie used every shred of his skill and training to break the man’s arm as he threw him to the ground, stealing his handgun in the process. Jamie put a bullet in the man’s back before twisting around to fire one in the other man’s chest.
Before the body even touched the ground, the doors to the courtroom were opening and the two men standing guard outside came rushing inside. Jamie took each of them out with a vicious double-tap, putting a bullet through their chests and hearts without blinking an eye. The open door was a threat—anyone could come through it—but Jamie put his back to it because he had no choice.
He spun around and stepped forward, gun in hand, taking aim at Stanislav’s head, as it was the only target Jamie could reach around Kyle. The other man didn’t seem fazed by Jamie’s actions and hadn’t even moved during the fight, as if he’d expected it. Stanislav still held Kyle by the throat in front of him, a human shield that stayed Jamie’s finger on the trigger. Stanislav pressed the muzzle of the gun against Kyle’s head at an angle, ready to shoot.
In the Requiem (Metahuman Files Book 5) Page 26