“Claudia, I have to get you home still. We’ll figure out that part when we get there.” Even though his heart hammered in his ears at the unknowns ahead, the upcoming sadness that lurked around the corner.
It was too soon to know how the rest would play out. Priority one was getting out of this warehouse, and back on the road. Followed by getting Claudia en route to D.C.whether or not he accompanied her.
She pressed a palm against his shoulder. “I’m not trying to be a downer.” She bit her bottom lip, searching his face. “But you’re right. We should just focus on getting home.”
Boris squeezed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the aches and pains of his beat-down slowly revealing themselves once more. They needed to hit the road before he totally stiffened up and became useless. “One step at a time babe. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Claudia offered a small smile, smoothing her hair back into a ponytail. “Where to first?”
Boris glanced back at the guard—still out cold. They should definitely get out before he came to, though. Maybe Pavlichenko would have a change of heart if he knew they’d been subduing his hired strongmen. “Let’s head out the way we came. My boss knows I’m taking you out, so we shouldn’t find any trouble.”
“Oh, so all this seduction and destruction here was for naught?” Claudia scoffed. “Are you serious?”
He grinned, catching her at the waist, bringing her hard against him. “Nothing in here was for naught, babe. I promise.”
“I deserve an award,” she said, her theatrical pout making him laugh.
“You’ve got skills. Nobody can deny that.” He squeezed her hip and then grabbed her hand. “Let’s hit the road.”
He tugged her toward the door, glancing down the hallway before leading her toward the central axis of the warehouse. Their footsteps scuffed quietly over the cement flooring. As they rounded the corner leading back to the main entryway, a boom echoed through the warehouse.
Boris stilled, squeezing her hand in his. He squinted at the ground; the reverberations hissed through his feet.
Another boom sounded, followed by shouts. Gruff voices, shouting in both Russian and Croatian.
“Shit.” Boris tugged at her, hobbling more quickly toward the sounds, which seemed like they’d come from the entryway. Rounding the last corner, the sight before them made him draw in a sharp breath.
The main door was blown open, the steel door blasted clear away, jagged shards of metal strewn along floor.
Two guards sat propped against scaffolding, clutching their stomachs, frantic conversations mingling into unintelligible swirls of consonants as they were surveyed by unknown sentries.
Boris scanned the scene, struggling to find the best next step. This could have been an isolated attack—or maybe walking out that front door would lead them right into the line of the follow-up attack.
BOOM.
Another explosion rattled the warehouse, and this time it came from the opposite end, way past the abandoned cranes and empty space that consumed the majority of the interior. Pavlichenko appeared from the opposite hallway, eyes wild as he searched out the source of the noise.
Boris stiffened, eyeing the main entryway. At this point, it was their only way out. And escaping this warehouse was the safest bet.
“Come on.” He squeezed Claudia’s hand and hobbled toward the main door, the heavy breaths making his ribs ache.
“Who is setting off these explosions?” She hissed.
“Hell if I know.” He glanced behind him, saw a swarm of guards convening at the other end of the warehouse, assessing a newly formed hole in the far wall. Sunlight streamed through the jagged gap.
“Pavlichenko obviously has some enemies,” Claudia muttered.
Boris laughed, then winced. “That’s an understatement.”
They broke through the threshold, which looked more like a gaping maw than the reinforced fortress during their arrival. He stepped over a sizzling pile of metal scraps, squinting into the bright, abandoned parking lot.
“Now what?” Claudia raised a hand to shield her eyes.
Boris heaved with a sigh. “We walk.”
He headed for the road they’d entered on, a dirt path that eventually linked up with a common thoroughfare. Barely ten step away from the warehouse, a gruff voice pierced the air.
“Boris.”
He froze, hesitant to turn around. It wasn’t Pavlichenko’s voice. And nobody else in that warehouse knew his name.
He spun on his heels, steeling himself for the worst.
But instead, the opposite greeted him.
Filitov smiled back at him, wiry hair even more tousled than usual, head poking out from behind the sedan parked near the entryway.
Chapter Fourteen
Boris froze in the parking lot, glancing at Claudia to make sure she saw the same thing. That it wasn’t just the beat down and the orgasm that had him hallucinating. Her mouth parted as she stared at the man before them.
“Filitov?” Her voice sounded as incredulous as he felt. Boris forced himself to move closer, squinting.
“Hurry,” the old man hissed. He waved them closer to the car, ducking down to hide. Boris shuffled faster, clutching at his ribs, and kneeled into the gravel on the other side of the sedan. The stones bit into his knee and all he could do was blink in amazement.
“We thought you were dead,” Boris choked out.
“So did they.” Filitov jerked his head toward the warehouse. He pressed a button on a small remote in his hand. In the distance, the deep boom of a blast echoed. Distant shouts drifted on the breeze.
Boris blinked at Filitov then looked up at the warehouse. “Are you blowing the whole thing up?”
“I am.” Filitov leaned against the car, drawing a labored sigh. “They destroyed my house, my refuge. My life’s work.”
Claudia gawked at him. “But how did you get out?”
“After you two left, I couldn’t sleep. I went into my office to read and check the internet.”
Claudia furrowed a brow. “But I never saw a computer at your house.”
“You wouldn’t have.” Filitov peered around the edge of the car. “It was in my cellar. My private office.”
Boris smiled. “I knew you had a secret spot somewhere in that house.”
“I rode out the fire down there. I carved that hole with my own hands, so I knew it would be safe. Once I could escape, I called in some favors.” Filitov jerked his head at the warehouse. “But I’ve got to get out of here. And so should you.”
“If they think you’re dead, why bother attacking their warehouse?” Claudia’s creased forehead was endearing—he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss the wrinkle.
Filitov hefted with a gravelly laugh. “Revenge, of course.” He pushed himself to standing. Claudia’s forehead crease deepened, proving to Boris that the logistics of the underworld they lived in might never be understood by her. And maybe it was for the better. “I hope I killed that fucker Black, too. He’s been a thorn in my ass ever since he started climbing the ranks.”
“He’s getting to me too,” Boris said, grabbing Claudia’s hand. They followed Filitov around the back of an abandoned garage while Filitov tapped something into his phone.
“You know if they see you, Boris.” His voice held a warning note he knew all too well.
Boris nodded. “You did a good job of distracting them so far. You got a pick-up?”
“On the way.” Filitov pocketed the phone, looking the two of them up and down. “What’s the next step for you two?”
“Taking Claudia home,” Boris said, aware of the slight pulse in his chest that accompanied the words.
“I can take you as far as Dubrovnik,” Filitov said. “But that’s it.”
“That’ll be fine.” Boris grinned. “Thanks for not killing us while we were inside. How’d you know to avoid us?”
“Dumb luck. I figured they’d pick you up too, if they managed to find out where I was.�
�� Filitov shook his head, hands on his hips. “That asshole Black is too sneaky.”
Boris’s belly cinched. Sneaky was one thing— Pavlichenko had shifted into malevolent somewhere in the past year or so. His quest for power and expansion grew like a cancer, pushing the organization into ever darker territories.
“They called in the GRU,” Boris said. This most recent link-up only proved how high and spiky Pavlichenko’s ambitions had grown.
Filitov tutted, shaking his head. “That bastard. I’ve never trusted anyone whose entire wardrobe is only one color.” He reached into his pocket and checked his phone, and then gestured for them to follow them. “The car is coming. We need to be quick. If you get spotted, Boris, you’re done. Are you sure about this?”
Fear flashed inside him and then disappeared, like fire sparking and being snuffed. The consequences would be serious. It would change everything if he was spotted. But right now, the only thing that seemed right was going with Filitov. Consequences be damned.
“Positive.” He squeezed Claudia’s hand tighter, their grip slick.
Filitov hurried along the side of the garage, toward the long driveway leading up to the warehouse. The sun caused little droplets of sweat on the back of his neck; he moved as fast as he could, chest straining against the rib pain. A cloud of dust in the distance appeared; a black car sped toward them down the long, narrow drive.
“There he is.” Filitov nodded, eyes on the car. “We’ll wait until he’s turned around right here.”
Boris’s heart raced as he watched the car. Their ticket to freedom. To Claudia’s safety. To hopefully finding some sort of new normal, and beginning to distance himself from the organization.
The thought jarred a cold fear into him. Could he really leave? Filitov’s defection was proof enough of how dangerous and dismal life after the organization could be. So he’d have to find some other way out. Somehow…
What are you even thinking about? His own thoughts felt foreign to him. Now’s not the time. Once they were in Dubrovnik, he could let the dust settle. See what sort of shape these strange dregs formed.
Filitov peered around the corner and then whipped his head back again. “Shit.”
Boris tensed. “What is it?”
“Someone’s leaving the warehouse.”
Boris pushed his way up to the corner of the garage and blinked into the bright light. Someone pulled out of the tiny parking lot by the blown-out door of the warehouse, heading right for the approaching black car. The brake lights flared as the car approached Filitov’s getaway driver. No doubt to interrogate whoever was pulling in.
The getaway car slowed to a stop as well, the two driver’s side windows meeting. Windows down, Boris could only hear faint undertones of a conversation.
“This could be bad,” Filitov muttered.
Claudia’s grip on Boris’s hand intensified. “What are they talking about?”
“I don’t know.” Boris leaned against the side of the garage. “Let’s hope your friend has a clever excuse for being here.”
He tensed as the overheard conversation grew to shouting. A sharp gunshot rang out. Claudia gasped, clutching his arm.
Another pop of a gunshot. Boris reached behind him to unsheathe his gun.
“We’re clear,” Filitov said after a moment. “Let’s go, hurry!”
Filitov ran toward the cars. Claudia didn’t leave his side as they hurried after him, moans reaching him in the wind. The two cars idled in the driveway. The getaway driver sat clutching his shoulder, dark blood streaming down his arm.
“Jesus,” Boris said, looking between the two cars. Whoever they’d sent from the warehouse sat slumped in his seat, bullet hole oozing blood from his temple.
“Let’s go,” Filitov said, opening the driver’s side door. “Claudia, you get in back with Slava. Boris, up front with me.”
Boris went around to the other side of the car as Filitov helped Slava out of the driver’s seat and into the back seat. Claudia eased into the car with a worried look. “Is he going to be okay?”
“It probably hurts like a bitch, but he shouldn’t bleed out.” Boris slammed his door shut, turning to look into the back seat as Filitov helped Slava sit. Pain gnawed at his insides from the rotation; he gasped and straightened out, keeping watch on the warehouse.
“Come on, Filitov.” Boris gnawed at the inside of his lip. Filitov slid into the driver’s seat and put the car into gear. A second later, he made a sharp 180 and peeled down the driveway, leaving the warehouse.
“All good?” Filitov glanced into the rearview mirror. Slava groaned, clutching at his shoulder, pressing a rag against the wound.
“Nobody’s following us,” Boris reported, squinting into the side mirror. “For now.”
A tense silence filled the car. The car squealed as Filitov took a sharp turn without slowing down much, joining a country highway. Boris rolled down his window a bit, letting in a hot breeze to move the air inside the stuffy car.
“So,” Boris began, drumming his fingers against his knee, glancing over at Filitov. “It’s been one helluva day, right?
***
Claudia’s head nodded down, which startled her awake. She inhaled sharply, eye bolting open. The top of Boris’s head peeked over the headrest of the seat in front of her. Filitov gripped the steering wheel with both hands, squinting at the road.
And to her left, the getaway driver sat sweating, chest heaving as she pressed the rag against his shoulder. Soon after taking off from the warehouse she’d offered to apply pressure—he had enough on his plate with the bullet wound. Between the monotony of the ride and the sheer exhaustion from their action-packed day, Claudia needed a nap.
“Everyone okay back there?” Boris turned his head, but didn’t twist to look back at them.
“Peachy,” Claudia said, yawning. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost,” Filitov said. “About ten minutes until we hit the outskirts of Dubrovnik. Traffic might slow us down, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”
“And where are we going in Dubrovnik?” She leaned forward, keeping the pressure on Slava’s shoulder. “The airport, or the embassy?”
Filitov and Boris shared a glance, which made her belly twist. Please no more surprises. All she wanted was to be on a plane for the States. But how that would happen without her passport or anything at all, really, seemed an insurmountable task.
She’d been mulling the possible game plan all day now. Showing up at the embassy might be the smartest, at least for expediting her return and contacting her father. She was sure Boris and Filitov would have objections, though. Probably they couldn’t come within fifty feet of a federal building without getting hives or some sort of panicked reaction. Seemed like guys in their line of work might need to avoid high-profile areas.
“We’re still figuring that out,” Boris said.
“If you take me to the embassy, they can handle reissuing my passport and contacting my father,” Claudia offered. “And you wouldn’t—”
“We’re heading to a safe house first,” Filitov interjected. “We’ll figure out our game plan there.”
“Filitov,” Boris began, “I thought you wanted her out of this mess?”
“Tell me how the embassy drop-off plays out,” Filitov retorted. “Cameras everywhere, gunshot wound in the backseat.” He scoffed. “Come on.”
“I want to talk to my dad,” she said. “I just want him to know I’m okay. It’s been so long since those guys kidnapped me—he’s probably worried sick by now.”
And that was the sinuous, sneaking truth that stalked through her veins, interrupting every moment of quiet or peace that she could snag. Feeling so helpless and disconnected—that was the worst part of all this. If only she could send a cryptic text from someone’s phone, or hell, a homing pigeon—just to put her father’s mind at ease. Just so he could sit back and sigh with relief.
Filitov let out a soft sigh. “I’ll see what we can do.”
“We
have to take the right steps,” Boris added. “Your kidnapping has been big news.”
Anxiety clawed at her. “I don’t want you guys to get into trouble. I just want to let him know that I’m alive.”
Boris turned slowly, wincing a bit, so he could look her in the eye. “I know. I promise you’ll be able to.” After a moment, he added, “Trust me.”
She offered a small smile and sank back into the seat, letting the cars and trees of the drive blur together. Despite the eagerness to get home, and the unknowns of the coming hours, there was a certain stillness inside her that knew it would work out. That she’d get home, sooner or later, safe and sound.
Vicious: Steel Jockeys MC Page 39