by Zoe Blake
Except for her freedom.
She was truly mine now, and I was keeping her… no matter the cost.
Chapter 28
Yelena
Damien’s friend Dimitri lived in a massive sandstone house in Lincoln Park just off of Burling Street. Before Damien could raise the ring in a massive bronze lion’s teeth to knock, the glossy black door swung open.
A large man, equal in size to Damien, answered the door. I recognized him as the man I saw in the safe house yesterday. He was just as intimidating with a dark, intently brooding look to his face, and tattoos which covered his hands and crept up his neck. The fact that he smiled in greeting as he called out Damien’s name did nothing to change my opinion. He still looked scary as fuck.
I edged closer to Damien, feeling better when he placed a protective arm around my waist and pulled me into his side. I raised my head to look up at him. He caught my gaze and gave me a reassuring wink before greeting his friend.
“Yelena, this is my friend, Vasili Lukovich Rostov.”
“Please, call me Vaska.”
It wasn’t until we were inside the magnificent ivory marble entranceway that I noticed there was a woman standing slightly behind him. She was beautiful. Her impossibly shiny ink black hair was done up in that super cool Rockabilly victory roll style with big glossy curls. It was then held back by a classic bright red bandanna. She had on a cute boat neck, dark blue and white striped sailor shirt and dark jeans with wide cuffs. Her whole look was pulled together with matte red lipstick over a serious Angelina Jolie pout.
Feeling self-conscious, I smoothed the wrinkles down on the front of my hoodie, wishing I at least had my Chanel lipstick to put on.
“And this is Mary.”
“Hello.” When she raised her arm to wave, I was astonished to see Vaska’s arm rise as well.
They were handcuffed together!
I turned wide eyes up to Damien, but he seemed to not even notice.
To not notice his friend was handcuffed to a woman!
“You heard Gregor is already back in D.C.?” asked Damien as if nothing was amiss.
Vaska nodded. “Dimitri has taken Emma to a secure location just to be on the safe side till things calm down. I’ve already called for the helicopter to take you to Midway. It should be arriving any minute now.”
Damien clapped him on the back. “Thank you, my friend. I’m sorry we have caused so much trouble in your city this visit.”
Vaska laughed. “Things were getting boring with only the Petrov brothers to kick around. Besides, we owed you for your help with that Morocco mess.”
Seriously? Was no one going to even mention the handcuffs?
“I’m sorry but…” I started but Damien squeezed my side and gave me a warning look.
I narrowed my eyes and shot him a warning look right back. He couldn’t honestly think I wasn’t going to say something.
Vaska pulled on his arm which jerked Mary forward slightly. She pulled right back. “Mary has decided to stubbornly refuse my protection.”
“Because Mary can take care of herself and doesn’t need an overbearing Russian barging into her life barking orders,” responded Mary in a sarcastic, almost sing-song tone before her gorgeous red lips twisted into an angry pout.
A quick burst of laughter escaped Damien’s lips, and he patted his own chest as if he had just coughed. My cheeks burned. The parallels to our own situation were unmistakable.
Damien raised an eyebrow and looked down at me. “Perhaps I should have kept those handcuffs.”
“Mary if you need any tips on how to easily pick a handcuff lock, let me know,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Just make sure you don’t need to do it quietly or quickly, or you’re fucked,” fired back Damien.
My mouth dropped open at the insult to my lock picking skills.
“You don’t — by any chance — have a gun on you, do you?” Mary asked me before turning to innocently bat her long black eyelashes at Vaska.
Before I could respond, the vibrating hum of an engine and the thwap, thwap, thwap of what I could only assume were helicopter blades sounded overhead.
“Looks like your ride’s here,” said Vaska cheerfully, as if the woman he was handcuffed to hadn’t just requested a firearm. “Damien, you know the way?”
“I do. Take care of your own affairs.”
With an arm around my waist, he led me to the curved staircase.
I tugged against his grasp. “Wait. Shouldn’t we help her?”
Damien cast a look over his shoulder. “Why? She’s safe with Vaska.”
“She’s here against her will.”
His large shoulders shrugged. “Technically, so are you.”
I stopped. He had a point.
Placing a finger under my chin, his sapphire gaze darkened. “And despite being lifelong friends, if he tried to interfere and take you from me, I would kill him in a heartbeat. I would expect no less from him, as well.”
The intensity and sincerity of his response took my breath away. I actually believed he would kill his friend if he tried to rescue me.
“Trust me, angel. Vaska is only trying to protect her.”
Where had I heard that before?
Casting a quick look over my shoulder, I saw Vaska fiercely kissing Mary.
Damien guided me up the stairs. I caught only a glimpse of a sumptuous bedroom decorated in cream and gold before we climbed a second staircase. Large French doors opened onto a furnished rooftop terrace with large lounge chairs and an open fire pit.
At the far end, a sleek black and red helicopter had just landed gracefully onto the raised helipad.
Despite the chaotic and scary circumstances, I was actually pretty excited. I’d never ridden in a helicopter before. I imagined it would be terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, like a roller coaster ride.
A man dressed in all black with a matching black helmet and sunglasses covering his eyes hopped out of the pilot’s side and swung open the back door, motioning for us to enter.
“Let’s go!” Damien called out over the din of the helicopter engine and still spinning propellers.
Grasping my long ponytail so my hair wouldn’t fly around more than necessary, I ran toward the helicopter, ducking low as I neared the spinning blades even though they were several feet over my head.
Someone called out Damien’s name. I turned to see Vaska and Mary both running across the rooftop. Damien motioned with his arm for me to continue onto the helicopter as he turned to see what Vaska wanted.
The pilot grasped my hand and helped me inside. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim enclosed interior. When they did, I was startled to see a second person inside just across the narrow leather seat from me. The seat was only long enough for two people. I assumed Damien would take the seat next to the pilot up front and was a little disappointed he wouldn’t be directly by my side for the experience.
I immediately chastised myself for the silly thought.
What? I have sex with the guy once, and he says something insanely romantic about our compatible zodiac signs, and now all of a sudden I couldn’t bear to be parted from him even for a minute like some doe-eyed teenager? Apparently, I was forgetting that yesterday I was throwing knives at him and hitting him with a brick! Or that for the last three years, he and his brother had been ruthlessly chasing me and my best friend down from one end of the country to the other.
Giving myself a mental shake, I pushed all these thoughts away. There would be plenty of time to analyze to death my conflicted and confused feelings for Damien once I was back in D.C. with Samara. Once I knew she was okay, then I could decide what my next step and future was… and whether Damien was included in my plans. Because after all, just because he said we were still getting married didn’t mean I was going to say yes.
I turned at Damien’s shout.
My brow furrowed. He was yelling and racing toward the helicopter. The pilot swung the door shut and hopp
ed back into the pilot’s seat.
“Wait! What are you doing?” I exclaimed.
Damien reached the door and pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Lunging for the door to open it myself, I was wrenched back by an arm around my throat.
The silent person who had been seated behind me stretched his arm past my head. He was holding an ominous looking handgun.
My gaze locked with Damien’s through the scuffed and dirty helicopter window. The horror reflected in his eyes froze my blood. Terrified, I struggled against my captor’s grasp.
I screamed as he fired several shots through the glass. The bullets penetrated and caused cracks to radiate from the hole but didn’t shatter the glass. Given that it was Dimitri and Vaska’s helicopter, it must have some type of bulletproof glass. At this close range, the bullet would still penetrate but hopefully the glass and layers of plastic in between slowed it down enough not to harm Damien or the others.
Just then the entire helicopter shook as we began to rise into the air.
“Damien!” I screamed as I clawed at the arm around my neck.
The helicopter pitched sharply on its side sending me tumbling to the floor before I slammed my shoulder against the door.
“He’s on the landing skids!” shouted the pilot as he struggled to control the helicopter. He had a heavy Spanish accent.
“Shake him loose!” cried the man who’d held me around the throat. Again, with a Spanish accent.
Oh my God!
My entire body went cold.
Realization dawned.
The engine whined and strained at whatever maneuver the pilot was trying, but suddenly the helicopter righted itself.
I threw myself against the door, peering through the radiated cracks in the glass. I saw Damien getting smaller and smaller as we rose into the air. Even from this distance, I could see the tortured expression on his face.
As Vaska closed in on Damien, he tossed a black object that looked like a gun to him with his free hand. Damien caught it and turned. Swinging his arm to the right, it looked like he intended to fire at the tail of the helicopter, to try and take out the engine, but it was too high in the air by now and the risk to me was too great.
It was too late.
Chapter 29
Damien
Snatching the manager by the front of his coat, I swung him violently around and slammed his body against the glass partition. The back of his head bounced against the window, shattering it. Sharp shards of glass cascaded over both of our shoulders.
“I don’t know his name!” Foamy bits of white spittle had formed in the corners of the man’s mouth.
“You’re fucking lying. I want his fucking name,” I ground out.
“I don’t know it!”
Pulling my arm back, I landed a punch against the man’s left ribcage. Feeling the thin bones crack under the force of my fist, I punched him a second time in the same spot. This time the bone splintered. I could hear the sickening crunch. The man started to gasp for breath and wheeze as the broken rib bone punctured his lung. His knees buckled.
Grabbing him by the shirt front, I yanked him to his feet and pulled him within inches of my face. “Listen to me, you piece of shit. I will beat you to death with my bare hands, methodically breaking every bone in your useless body, unless you tell me what I want to know.”
The man drew a ragged wheezing breath. “They’ll kill me.”
“So will I,” I fired back, “but I guarantee it will be more painful than anything they would do to you.”
Yelena had been gone now for forty-three minutes.
Forty-three agonizing, soul crushing minutes.
For the rest of my life, the look of sheer terror on her beautiful face would haunt my dreams.
I had failed her. Again.
I hadn't protected her when she was a vulnerable little girl needing my help, and now — after swearing to keep her safe from the Columbians — it was me who had led them straight to her.
If I lived for a thousand years, nothing I ever did would assuage my guilt.
How could I have been so complacent, so stupid as to let her get on that helicopter without verifying who the pilot was?
Blyad'!
As Yelena headed toward the helicopter, Vaska and Mary had run toward me, but I couldn’t make out what they were yelling over the din of the engine. It was only when I got closer that I realized they were screaming stop. Without even finding out why, I turned and ran with all my might to reach Yelena, but I was too late. They shut the doors, trapping her inside.
In desperation, I latched onto the landing skids. It had been my intention to pull myself up and somehow force my way into the helicopter cab, but I was thrown off. When Vaska tossed me a gun, I knew it was dangerous to try and shoot it down, but it was a risk I had to take.
I knew what the Columbians were capable of. I knew all the torturous dehumanizing things they wouldn’t hesitate to do to her.
It was worth the risk.
I knew I clipped the tail, but it wasn’t enough to stop the helicopter. I had to stand and watch in horror as it climbed higher and higher into the sky.
Taking my babygirl with it.
Raising both arms, my fists pressed against my temples, I roared my pain and anger into the swirling wind created by the retreating spinning blades.
When Vaska placed his hand on my shoulder, I turned on him like a rabid dog. I was out of my mind with grief and anger. I didn’t even see that Mary was still handcuffed to him. My attack on him made her trip and fall painfully to the ground, injuring her shoulder.
Vaska responded like a man possessed.
I twisted my jaw to the side. It still ached where Vaska was forced to haul off and punch me to get me back to my senses.
It was the least that I deserved.
“What the fuck happened?” I finally asked.
Holding Mary close to his side, Vaska reached into his back pocket for the handcuff keys while he told me. “I got a call from John. He’s our usual helicopter pilot. He’s provided by the service we use to store and maintain it when it's not in use. We have an understanding with the management because of the… special circumstances of our business dealings… that John and only John flies our bird. After doing a final check, his boss called him into the office. Next thing he knew, another pilot was taking off. The boss acted real cagey about why. So John called to warn me.”
“Address,” I growled, more beast than man right now. My only thought was of Yelena. The thin veneer of civilization slid off me like water, replaced by a single, primal need to find my mate.
Vaska nodded. “I need to secure Mary someplace safe. Then we’ll go.”
I shook my head. “I can’t wait that long.”
“You don’t know what you’re walking into there. We haven’t even confirmed who’s involved. They could still have a team of men on premises.”
“It’s them. I know it. They have her, Vaska, and it’s my fucking fault. Do what you have to do to protect your girl, but I’m not waiting one fucking second to go after mine.”
Cradling her arm against her middle, Mary protested. “I’m not his girl, and I’m fine. Go with him.”
We both ignored her. As far as I was concerned, if Vaska wanted her protected, that was enough for me.
“I’ll text you the address. I’m taking Mary to where Dimitri has Emma.” He turned and gave her a harsh glare when she started to protest. “After you learn all you can, meet us at the usual place. We’ll gear up with some firepower and go after the bastards.”
Less than half an hour later, I was at the private hangar. John, warned of my coming, met me in the parking lot and pointed out where his boss could be found. The rat bastard was sitting at a desk stuffing his face with a sloppy Italian Beef as if everything was normal. As if he hadn’t just sent a woman to her death because of his greed.
My boots crunched over a piece of shattered glass as I dragged him deeper into the office. Reaching into my back
waistband, my fingers wrapped around the grip of my Glock. I pulled it free. Placing the muzzle against his left eye, I asked him, “What are their names?”
“I can’t!” he squealed.
Lowering the gun, I shot him in the kneecap. His considerable bulk fell to the ground as he screamed in agony. A random employee appeared in the doorway. I raised my gun. “This is none of your business.”
The employee looked like they were going to protest, but then John appeared and dragged them away with a nod in my direction. I knew he would take care of it, and at the very least, hold back anyone calling the police till I left. He would be rewarded for his loyalty.
Turing my attention back to the bleeding pig at my feet, I warned, “The next shot goes in your stomach.”
He held one bloody hand palm up in a placating gesture. “He didn’t tell me his name, but we’ve flown for his boss several times before. The boss owns a horse stable in Oak Park.”
“The name.”
“They’ll kill me!” he whined again.
“You’re already dead.”
“Santiago. Santiago Garcia. He paid me to let them know when Dimitri or Vaska ordered their helicopter to be ready. I didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t know they were going to steal it!”
I swallowed down the bile which rose in the back of my throat. Unlike with the Italians, I had never been able to arrange a meeting with the Columbians to sort out the misunderstanding over Yelena and pay them off, because I could never find out which gang or faction was involved. Unlike with the Italians — and occasionally with us Russians — they were rarely organized by family, which made them more fragmented with less of a hierarchy. There always seemed to be someone new in charge.
Santiago Garcia was the current head of the Los Infieles. The Unfaithful.
I had already had a run-in with him a few months ago when he tried to renegotiate the price of some German G3 rifles, Israeli Galils and Uzis, and U.S. M-16s we had acquired for him. We never renegotiate. His threats of retaliation for my disrespect to him in front of his men meant nothing to me.