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every breath.
“I don’t think he’s going to wait, Rachel.” Caleb put a hand on her
belly. “I need to get you back to the clinic. I don’t know that we have time for a hospital. Besides, you have to have the baby. Your water
looks like it broke. No turning back. I believe I explained to Max that it wasn’t like someone dumping a glass of water on the floor. He
didn’t listen to me, hence the dog is still here. Come on, let’s get you to the clinic.”
“No!” Rachel forced herself to sit up. She held on to Stef. “I have
to get back to Jen.”
Stef felt the air around him go cold. “What’s wrong with
Jennifer?”
Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but her body wasn’t her own
again. A low wail came out. “Fuck. I hate this. I hate this. Please, I want my husbands. Please.”
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“Damn it.” Caleb cursed for a few seconds and got to his feet.
“Stella, we’re having this baby here and now. She’s probably been in
labor all day and was too stubborn to admit it.”
“It’s too early. It’s too early,” Rachel said through her tears.
“Please, Stef. They have her.”
“Who?” Stef was trying to be patient. “Rachel, you have to tell me
where Jennifer is and who has her.”
She gritted her teeth as she tried to get up. “Sheriff’s Office. We
went to look for Holly, but the place was locked. I knew where the
key was, and Alexei took Jen. He pulled her inside, but he let me go.
He was talking to someone. I don’t know how many are inside, but
they have the building under their control.”
Stef cursed inwardly. If only he’d walked around the front of the
building, he might have seen Rachel and gotten to Jen sooner. Habit
had brought him to the kitchen entrance. He’d come to Stella’s this
way since he’d been a child.
He had known he should have killed the son of a bitch. He
wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He would kill the Russian as
soon as he could, and if he could make it painful, it would be for the better.
Rachel doubled over and screamed in pain. Quigley whined and
tried to lick her face, offering the only comfort he could. Stef reached over to a table that appeared to have been recently vacated, picked up the half-full glass of coke, and dumped it on the floor beside the dog.
Quigley immediately took off, his huge body easily pushing through
the swinging doors.
“There, Rach,” Stef said. “Q will go get Max if we can’t get him
on the phone.” He turned to the doctor, who was running antibacterial
gel all over his hands and forearms. “I have to go.”
Caleb nodded and took Rachel, helping her to stand. “I know. I
can’t leave her. Stella is calling Nate, and she’ll call Zane back if she can get him. You’ll have backup.”
Stella rushed forward. “Don’t you dare go after her without this.”
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Stella passed her Colt .45 to him. He felt better just having the
weight of the gun in his hand. He checked the chamber and pocketed
the extra ordnance she gave him. Stella went on her toes and kissed
his cheek lightly.
“You come back with her. You understand me? You come back
safe,” she said tightly, her eyes glazed with unshed tears. “You’re my boy. I don’t care who gave birth to you. You’re my boy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, a wealth of love for her filling his heart.
She’d been his mother in every way that counted.
His father stepped forward. “Stefan, I’ll come with you.”
Stef looked at his father. His frail father was willing to go into god knows what with him. Jennifer had been right. It was past time to
forgive him. Sebastian had made mistakes, but he was trying to fix
them. One day his father wouldn’t be here, and Stef wouldn’t be able
to work anything out. The time to fix things was now. He put his arms
around his father. “I appreciate it, Dad. I do, but I’ll move better on my own. Stay here. I’ll come back. Dad, lock the doors after me. Shut
the blinds. Unless you know the person, don’t let anyone in. Stella’s is closed for the day.”
Stef nearly ran out the door. In the distance, he could see Max and
Rye running down the street from the park, but he didn’t have time to
wait and wasn’t sure he should. Their son was about to be born. He
couldn’t wait for Nate and Zane. He had to get to Jennifer, and he had to do it fast.
His mind racing with a thousand horrific scenarios, he tried to
narrow his focus as he jogged between Stella’s and the gallery beside
it. He crossed the street and went behind the town hall to get to the alley behind the buildings. He couldn’t go in the front door. It didn’t make a lick of sense to grab the painting and try to negotiate. The
mob didn’t negotiate. And how exactly would he negotiate? No, he
had one option and one option alone.
Kill them all.
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Stef slowed as he reached the Sheriff’s Office. He thought about
the building. Nate’s office was closest, and there was a small
bathroom attached. The window was supposed to be permanently
shut, but Rye had broken the lock years before during a summer heat
wave when the air-conditioning had gone out. On quiet feet, Stef
moved toward his destination. What had already happened to
Jennifer? What had she gone through?
He forced himself to quell his panic. Rushing in and getting
himself killed wouldn’t help Jennifer. He wasn’t sure how many were
in the building, but they would all have guns. Mobsters had guns,
probably more than one apiece. He would have to be careful and hope
that Nate was careful, too. To that end, he quickly pulled out his cell and sent a text. God only knew if Nate would get it. The only sure
way to get a hold of him while he was working was to call on his
police radio, and the equipment for that was currently surrounded by
the mob.
But he doubted they had all the bases covered. They could lock
the front and back entrances, but he knew how to work this particular
entrance. As quietly as he could, Stef pressed in on the lower pane of the window. His ungloved fingers were bitten by the cold, but he had
to move with great care or he might make a sound that would alert
them. Jennifer was counting on him. Slowly, surely, he pushed the
window open and gripped the sill. It was tight, but he fit, lowering
himself to the tiled floor of the bathroom. He could hear someone in
the office. Adrenaline pumping through his system, Stef eased the
safety off the Colt and listened at the door. He could hear people
talking, but couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. He
gently turned the doorknob and opened the door slightly, wincing at
the little creak.
Nate’s desk had been trashed. His pictures and files were tossed
carelessly to the floor to make way for the body that lay atop it. Bile rose in his throat when he realized the body was in a bloodstained
khaki uniform with a silver star on the chest.
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Logan.
His chest rose just barely, as though only a thread of life
remained.
&nbs
p; Stef’s hand tightened on the gun as the outer door opened.
He shrank back, waiting for the perfect time to pounce.
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Chapter Nineteen
Alexei followed Luka into the small office, his every nerve
vibrating with tension. He’d begged Holly to stay calm, whispering
into her ear, promising her he would save her. How was he going to
save her? Any way he looked at it, he lost, and that meant she would
lose as well. The minute he revealed himself to be less than the
perfect soldier, he would be killed, and his “woman” would be fair
game. If they had time, they would rape her before slitting her throat.
If they did not, then a bullet through the brain would end her very
quickly.
Three against one. He had to find a way to even up the odds
before he took the chance.
And then Pushkin had thrown it into his lap. He’d told Luka to kill
the deputy.
No one would know that Alexei had killed Luka until he walked
out of the office, guns blazing. It would give the women time to run.
It would give them a chance. That was all he could ask.
His heart was racing, his hand trembling. He had to do this right,
or he would let them down.
“The boy was utterly useless,” Luka said in Russian as he
approached the body on the desk.
The deputy’s hands had been bound with the telephone cord. His
long legs dangled off the edge of the desk. They were still, so still it scared Alexei. Was the deputy already dead? His face was a bloated
mess, seemingly just a mass of blood and bone and tissue with
nothing to animate it. Alexei had seen this before, but now it made
him sick. This man had done nothing to deserve his pain.
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“Ah, well, at least the girl will be more fun.” Luka laughed as he
pulled his gun. He put it to the young man’s forehead. Logan lay still beneath the gun.
Alexei whipped up his own pistol to kill Luka before he fired, but
the report of gunfire blasted through the room, making his ear ache.
His heart nearly stopped as Luka turned and fell to his knees. The gun fell useless at his side. He began to bleed from the back of his head.
Looking up, Alexei saw a man move from the shadows where
he’d clung like a wraith. Long and lean, the dark man slid into the
room. His gun still smoked, heat flowing off it, but his eyes were
arctic cold.
“Give me one good reason not to kill you.”
He remembered this man. Jennifer was his woman. He’d come for
his woman. Alexei dropped his arm to the side, along with the gun.
He kept his voice very low. “Because they will believe one shot, not
two.”
“You were sent in here to kill Logan?”
Alexei nodded. “I was not going to do it. I was going to kill Luka.
You were faster.”
“A nice little fairy tale.” The man’s voice was as cold as his eyes,
but he seemed to listen to reason since Alexei wasn’t dead on the
ground like Luka. “But I don’t know why I should believe you. I
doubt Logan would believe you.”
“I don’t blow the sunshine up your asshole,” Alexei argued. He
had to make him understand. There were two of them. They had a
better shot if they worked together.
“Don’t, Stef.” The words were quiet, but Logan’s lips moved, and
his bound hands came up. He spoke through cracked, bleeding lips.
“Don’t kill him.”
Stef’s face finally showed a flicker of emotion, a grimace of pain
for his friend. “Don’t talk, Logan. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“There’s no way out. No way,” Logan muttered and mumbled
something unintelligible.
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“We must to move quickly,” Alexei said, fumbling for the English
words. “Pushkin be expecting Luka. He is supposed to torture the
girl.”
Stef’s face hardened again, his will implacably marked there.
“How many?”
Alexei finally let out a breath. The man was willing to be
reasonable. “Only two, but the girls are out there. Holly and your girl are out there. Pushkin was very interested in your Jennifer. He thinks she knows where his painting is.”
“No, she doesn’t, but I do.” Stef pulled a knife from his back
pocket. It was a utilitarian knife, and he used it to free Logan’s hands.
The deputy groaned quietly as he tried to flex them.
“It will not matter. He will not make bargains with you. He will
say one thing but do another. If you offer a trade, he will kill
everyone. He has to.” Alexei had seen Pushkin in action far too often.
He was a snake, and he would turn on anyone if he saw a profit in it.
The dark-haired man nodded. “I thought as much. He can’t leave
us alive. He certainly won’t believe we won’t call the authorities. So we have to kill him. You willing to do that?”
A malicious little joy lit Alexei’s heart. He had done the right
thing. He had offered to give up his revenge, but now it landed in his lap as though the heavens had decreed it be so. He could save his soul and kill the man who had taken his brother. “Oh, I have waited many
years to do such a thing. But, I won’t have the women harmed. I
would rather he go free than risk them.”
“I would rather get the lay of the land. We can’t just walk out
shooting. We could hit one of the women.”
“Holly knows what I do. She is supposed to cause some chaos.
How about we cause some chaos of our own?”
Stef hesitated, but Logan managed to reach out and take his hand.
Stef looked down at the deputy. He could only get one eye open. The
other was swollen shut. Logan swallowed before he spoke. “You can
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trust him. They would have killed me and Holly. He told us what to
do.”
“He’s the reason we’re all here,” Stef argued.
“Is there a problem, Luka?” The throaty Russian voice rang
through the building.
Stef’s entire body tensed as Alexei clutched the doorknob. It was
time to decide.
“Are you in the in door or going to the outs?”
Stef snarled, but stepped forward. “If I live through this, you’re
getting English slang lessons. It’s just ‘are you in or out.’”
Alexei raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. I’m in.”
Alexei opened the door. It was time to finish it. For good or bad.
* * * *
The shot was still ringing in Jen’s ears as the fact of Logan’s death
washed over her. How was he gone? Why had Alexei allowed it to
happen?
“Stop crying, you sniveling bitch! Do you have any idea how
much I hate you?” Holly stormed across the room toward her. The
sweet-looking redhead had a scowl on her face normally reserved
only for soap opera actresses in the middle of a big scene. “I hope
Alexei kills you himself.”
Holly launched herself at Jen, hitting her squarely in the torso, and
both women hit the ground.
Jen was caught completely off guard and felt the breath knocked
out of her.
“Sorry. I’m suppos
ed to cause a distraction. Alexei is supposed to
kill the other guy. Get ready,” Holly whispered in her ear before
pushing herself up. She straddled Jen and pulled back her hand.
The younger man, Nikolai, grabbed her fist, laughing. “You are a
righteous bitch. Alexei chose well.”
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He hauled Holly up by the back of her shirt. Jen found herself
with her back against Logan’s desk, staring up at Nikolai and Holly.
Logan had left his drawer open, and as she attempted to get up, her
hand slid across the comic books he kept there, causing her to fall
again. She reached up again, and her hands met something wooden.
She couldn’t see it, but she knew what it was. Logan’s whittling knife.
“Calm yourself, girl.” Pushkin stepped between Holly, who
looked like she was auditioning for “Bad Girls Club,” and Jen. He
snarled at the red-haired waitress. “Watch it. Alexei is not the boss
here. I am. I don’t like trouble, or the people who cause it.”
While Pushkin made his speech, Jen grasped the knife in Logan’s
desk. It was small, with a one-and-a-half-inch blade and a wooden
handle. Logan had brought it into the diner swearing he was going to
quit his deputy job and make a living whittling bears and wolves.
He’d been awful at it, and the knife had disappeared.
Jen slid the blade, handle up, into the pocket of her jeans and then
stumbled to her feet. It was tiny, potentially useless, but it was all she had.
“What is taking so long?” Pushkin asked, stepping toward Jen, a
scowl on his face. He grabbed her arm. “Are they taking apart the
body? Tell Luka to toss the body to the side. I want to get this done.”
Nikolai turned to the door. “Is there a problem, Luka?”
The door to Nate’s office opened, and Jen felt her heart drop to
the floor. Alexei moved out of the office. Stef—her beautiful, strong
Stef—was in his grips. A gun was pointed straight at his dark head,
the metal at his temple. Alexei had one of Stef’s hands behind his
back for leverage as he pushed him along.
“Yes, there was trouble,” Alexei said. “I found this one lying in
wait.”