Markov sighs into the radio. “Somebody please say something!”
I pass a gun to Yuri and he instantly slides a bullet into the chamber. “We go together,” I say. “Find Ma and Sofia—”
Yuri raises his gun and points it at Fox’s face.
Fox presents his hands in calm surrender.
I grab my brother’s wrist. “Yuri, what are you doing?”
“He’s one of them.”
“No, I’m not,” Fox says.
I try to lower his arm, but Yuri shakes me off. “Put it down, Yuri—”
“He’s been here all night,” Yuri says, his eyes locked on Fox. Markov reaches behind his back for his own weapon and Fox watches with sharp eyes. “He’s seen the grounds. He knows where the guards would be. He could have led them in.”
Fox shakes his head. “I didn’t.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been playing us from the start.”
I look from him to my father’s corpse and I squeeze my gun’s grip a little tighter. There’s logic in Yuri’s reasoning, more than I’d like to admit. No one’s ever breached the Lutrova estate before until now.
Not until a snake slithered inside with a white flag.
“Luka…” Fox says, sensing my shift. “I had nothing to do with this.”
I raise my gun, but he doesn’t even flinch. Only his eyes move, quickly targeting all of our locations. There’s no way he can dodge three bullets at once. I don’t care how well-trained he is.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says, his voice as solid as stone. “Think about it.”
There’s no time to think it through. Fox Fitzpatrick is a loose end, always has been. Whether he’s double-crossed us or not is irrelevant.
Never let a snake loose in Moscow.
Markov takes a wide step closer to Fox, coming within a meter of him, and I inhale a sharp breath.
“Markov—!”
Fox grabs his arm and twists his hand, pulling him around to use him as a shield. He rests the gun’s barrel against Markov’s throat and lays his finger on the trigger before either of us can react.
Yuri panics and fires once but misses them both by a wide margin.
“Yuri, stop!” I keep my gun trained on Fox. “Let him go.”
Fox slides on his toes, inching slowly toward the door, keeping Markov between us and him the entire way.
“There’s no time for this,” he says. “Trust me or not — it doesn’t change the fact that they came in here for a reason.”
Sofia.
“Shoot him, Luka,” Markov growls.
I wrap my finger around the trigger. Even now, there isn’t a hint of panic in Fox’s eyes. He’s in complete control, and we both know it. Either he’s a total sociopath who deserves to be put down or I’m about to lose a very valuable ally.
I add another pound of pressure to the trigger.
Fox shoves Markov forward and darts out into the hallway. I fire off a few rounds, narrowly missing him as he disappears out of sight.
I bolt after him and peek around the door frame in time to see him reach the end of the hall and rush up the stairs to the second floor.
Yuri helps Markov to his feet. “Go after him!”
I shake my head. “Leave him. Head for the kitchen. Avoid the windows.”
We enter the hallway, ducking and hugging the walls as we move. I focus my hearing, listening for anything that will pinpoint an incoming attack, but nothing stands out. In fact, I hear nothing at all. The house is too quiet. There are no guards in sight when we should have run into three already. There are no bodies. No drops of blood or signs of struggle.
I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so fucking furious.
Finally, I hear it. That devastating sound. It pierces so deep, it rattles my bones.
Lucian.
He cries out, screaming from behind the kitchen door.
I burst through it, driven by a powerful, uncontrollable instinct as he wails louder.
“Luka!” Sofia screams.
A hard kick to the head brings dark spots to my vision. Gloved hands shove me down to my knees while Yuri and Markov grunt in pain behind me. My gun slips from my fingers, yanked free by a trained hand. I move to break out of their hold on me, but as I look up and my vision clears, I feel gun barrels press against my skull.
There are five of them standing around me, each one dressed all in black. Just like the hissing man in Moscow. Just like Fox Fitzpatrick in the warehouse in Rome.
I yield and look forward into Sofia’s shaking eyes.
She sits at the table with her palms lying flat against it. Tears spill down her face. I grit my teeth at the gun pressed against her cheek.
I cringe at my mother’s unconscious form lying face down beneath the table.
“What do you think, Lutrova?”
Gio sneers at me with victorious eyes as my son screams in his arms.
“Am I trying hard enough to kill you this time?”
Chapter 24
Sofia
“Let him go,” Luka says, his protective eyes locked on our child. “He doesn’t like you.”
“The feeling is mutual…” Gio glares at Lucian and spins around to drop him back into the highchair beside me. “Shut him up,” he spits at me.
I lean in and rest my head against my baby’s forehead, whispering softly in his ear to calm his cries.
Gio limps away from me. His gun finally leaves my cheek, and I breathe again. He passes over Nina on the floor, briefly nudging her leg, and he smirks as Luka flexes his jaw in anger.
“Sorry about mama,” Gio says, “but you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hit that woman.”
My eyes stay on Luka and the halo of guns surrounding his head. Any one of them could go off and take him from me in an instant.
But Luka doesn’t blink.
“Five assassins, Gio?” he quips. “Really?”
“Six, actually.” Gio smiles and points at them. “Along with the sniper outside. I figured if one wasn’t enough, then six would be plenty to get the job done this time.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be a Zappia if you weren’t overcompensating.”
Gio pauses. “You’re going to crack jokes like that now, Lutrova? With six guns pointed at your head?”
“The only joke in this room is you, Gio,” he replies, his breath calm and steady. “You had to hire a squad of mercenaries to beat me. Is it really any wonder at all why you could never satisfy her?”
Gio drops his smirk.
“Oh, Sofia,” Luka whispers, his lips curling. “The things I do to her… and the things she does for me…”
Gio lunges forward and slams his pistol across Luka’s jaw. I cringe and keep Lucian’s attention on me, praying that he never holds onto any memory of this.
Luka chuckles. “You should have seen her this morning…”
“Luka…” I say, urging him to stop.
Gio twists in my direction. “No, let him finish…” he says, his voice dry and cold. “It’ll be all the more satisfying when I shoot him.”
“Oh, please…” Luka says. “You’re not shooting anybody.”
“Really?” Gio limps back over to me and lays the gun against my cheek again. “Let’s see if that’s true…”
Luka falls silent and anger returns to his eyes. Provoking Gio was obviously supposed to keep that gun away from me and Lucian and pointed at him instead.
“Don’t do that,” he warns.
“Does it make you angry, Lutrova?” Gio asks. “Watching as another man takes something from you?” He grabs my arm and yanks me out of my chair. “Well, keep your eyes peeled… because this is really going to piss you off.”
Gio shoves me forward to bend me over the table. My face slaps against it and fresh pain fires through my cheek as he leans over me.
“I’ve done some thinking,” he says, grinding his hips against me. “I’ve come to realize… that I don’t want your bastard, Lutrova. I want what was promised to me…”
“Please, stop,” I whimper.
Gio digs his gun into my side, pushing deep toward my belly. “I want my wife to give me my heirs.”
“I don’t know, Gio…” Luka says, taking another shot at drawing him away from me. “You’ve been trying for two years. Are you sure there isn’t anything wrong with you?”
“Let’s find out.”
I slam a fist against the table. “Gio, please—” I cry. “Not in front of Lucian! Please!”
He leans down to whisper in my ear. “I’m getting tired of you saying my name, wife…”
I tremble beneath him, cringing at the stink of his breath. He stands back up and the familiar sound of his zipper behind me makes me nauseous. He shoves my flannel slacks and panties down. A few of the agents titter with delight at my humiliation.
I look at Luka through a veil of tears. I can see the stubborn defiance in his eyes as plain as day. He’s not going to sit there and let this happen. His eyes shift. His muscles twitch. Any second now, he’ll lash out, and one of them will fire a bullet that will end him.
I can’t let him do it. I can’t let him die when I could try and end this myself.
“Stop, please!” I say. “Stop and I’ll go with you!”
Luka deflates. “Sofia—”
“I will go with you,” I say it again, craning my neck to look at Gio. “Please, spare him. Please.”
Gio digs his fingers into my scalp and twists. I wince as follicles snap. “He’s already dead, Sofia…”
“Spare him and I will give you anything you want.”
He yanks me up and spins me around to make me face him. “I can take whatever I want from you.”
I force my eyes to soften for him. “I will love you,” I say. “I will give you everything of me and we’ll never see him again. Please, spare him.”
“Sofia…”
I ignore Luka’s protest and Gio smirks.
“Promise?” he asks.
I kiss him. My gut clenches, but this is the only card I have to play. Gio wants me, he’s been obsessed ever since we were children. I have to believe he wants me even more than vengeance. I can withstand Gio a little longer if it means my baby is safe. If it means Luka is still breathing.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
Gio takes a step back and loosens his grip on me. He glances down at Luka as he zips up, taking the moment to gloat at him.
Luka looks away from him, his gray eyes locking onto mine instead. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs to the top before purposefully blowing it out through my lips. I inhale another one and hold it, waiting for Luka to do the same.
Finally, he inhales a shaking breath. We exhale together.
Just like that.
That’s how we stay alive.
Gio steps over to him and waves his hand, signaling the assassins to lower their guns from Luka’s head. “You know, Lutrova, you were wrong.”
“About what?”
Gio throws his good leg upward and kicks Luka in the stomach. Luka doubles forward onto the floor, falling onto his hands and more tears shake loose from my eyes.
“I am going to shoot somebody,” Gio says, flicking the hammer back on his gun.
He pulls the trigger and I scream.
Lucian cries out from the highchair and he keeps crying as Luka collapses to the floor, blood pooling out of the new wound in his upper calf.
Gio slams his foot down, pressing hard and putting all his weight onto Luka’s bleeding leg. “See?” he growls. “I told you.”
Luka grits his teeth, holding back his screams of pain as Gio digs into him a little harder.
Finally, Gio pushes off and he extends his hand toward me. “Shall we?”
“Sofia…” Luka whispers from the floor.
I take one final look at him.
My Luka. My light.
He told me that he wouldn’t stop fighting for me until his last breath, but I won’t let that happen today. I will endure. We found each other once before.
We’ll find each other again.
I take Gio’s hand and he pulls me through the kitchen. The men in black follow us through the house. My son’s cries fade away behind me, but I know that they won’t last forever. Soon, his father will hold him. He’ll stop screaming. Luka will make him laugh again. Maybe not today, but someday.
We march through the woods together, Gio constantly hobbling on his wounded leg. Eventually, we reach a clearing where a small cargo plane sits at the edge of the field.
The sixth assassin stands nearby in his mask, waiting for the rest of them to return. He pulls the door down as we arrive. Another quick wave to the windows signals the pilot and the engine purrs with life.
Gio pushes me up the steps and follows me onto the small cargo plane. “Secure her down,” he says, gesturing toward one of the masked men as they pile on after us. “Sorry, Sofia. I don’t quite trust you yet…”
One of them steps forward and grabs my arm. He leads me toward a bench on the wall, his grip tight enough to leave a mark. I take a seat and he reaches beneath it for a black box with a white snake drawn on the top with marker. He reaches inside with a gloved hand and pulls out a pair of handcuffs.
I don’t fight him. I yield and present my wrist, closing my eyes to focus on my breathing. Air fills my lungs and I push it out through my lips.
It’s not over until we can’t do that anymore.
The metal cuff clicks into place around my wrist. He fastens the other to the balance bar along the wall behind me.
“Hold on to something and keep your head down.”
I open my eyes, drawn to the whisper in front of me. “What?”
He stares at me through his mask. I freeze on those familiar eyes. Soft and restrained.
Fox.
I look away, pretending not to notice as he stands up and blends in with the rest of them.
Gio grins wide with victory as he turns and reaches for the parachute above the latched door.
I smirk as he throws it on. “Still afraid of heights, sweetheart?” I ask. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he walks off toward the cockpit and slams the door closed behind him.
The plane lurches as the pilot accelerates. I glance out the window and watch the fields of bleak, Russian earth whiz by as we move faster and faster. My stomach twists into knots as I rise off the ground for the second time in my life. I grab the bar beside me and hold on as we ascend at a steep incline.
I look at the six men standing around inside the main cabin, each one of them gripping one of the balance bars along the ceiling to keep his balance. A few of them speak, but I can’t make out a word. I search what I can of their hidden faces, finding Fox at the far end of them with his eyes pointed toward the floor.
The plane finally rights itself and Fox releases the bar. He moves slowly, slinking between the others as his hand drifts to his belt. I grip the bar even tighter as he withdraws a switchblade and flicks it open.
Fox stops behind the man closest to me and raises the knife to his throat.
“Hey!”
Fox slashes his neck from end to end, spilling blood in all directions. Everyone instantly takes notice as the man tumbles to his knees and Fox knocks him the rest of the way down. The fuselage surges with sudden life, so much that I can barely keep up with it. Two men descend on Fox, but he twists free of them, quickly plunging his knife into one of their chests.
I cringe back against the wall as Fox pulls the knife out and stabs it deep into the second man’s neck with fast, almost elegant, precision. They both slump to their knees and Fox spins around to meet the next attacker as he raises a pistol to his head.
Fox launches toward the gun and snatches the man’s wrist. A shot rings out. I gasp, clenching my heart as the bullet just misses Fox’s face. He turns, keeping a tight grip on the man’s wrist and forcing him to point the gun at the only other man left standing. The gun fires again. I shelter my head as th
e bullet clips the other agent’s eye and he crumbles to the floor.
The gunman throws himself backward, growling with anger, and Fox stumbles into the wall behind them. He raises the man’s wrist and slams it down on his knee several times to force him to drop the gun. Finally, it tumbles to the floor and Fox knocks him away from it.
The two face each other with tight fists, barely pausing before they both lash out at each other. They trade blows, but Fox is quicker, tripping the man down to his knees so fast it makes me nauseous. Fox slides behind him, takes the man’s head in his hands, and I shield my eyes before he twists it too far.
“What the hell—”
I look up as Gio pops out of the cockpit with wide, angry eyes.
Fox grabs his knife and throws it at Gio, piercing his left shoulder. Gio screams and falls back into the cockpit door in shock as Fox takes wide strides in his direction. He grabs the knife handle and yanks it out, drawing another powerful scream from Gio’s throat.
“What the hell are you doing?” he seethes, staring into Fox’s obscured eyes.
Fox wraps his fingers around Gio’s throat and pulls him up, forcing him across the fuselage to the exit. He reaches for the door handle and my jaw drops.
“Wait!” Gio squeals with fear.
Fox glances at me. I nod as I wrap my hands tighter around the bar.
He shoves the door open. My ears pop from the change in pressure as the wind howls and the plane lurches in the sky.
With a firm kick, Fox jettisons Gio outside. I listen to the pleasant sound of him screaming until I can’t hear him anymore.
Goodbye, Gio.
Fox yanks the door closed and the plane goes quiet again. He steps over the bodies scattered around the floor on his way to me. As he kneels, he slides his mask off, making me feel far more at ease. “Are you okay?” he asks, barely out of breath.
I nod, unable to speak.
He opens the box beneath the bench again to retrieve the keys to the handcuffs. He gives them to me before grabbing the revolver from a dead man’s hand and entering the cockpit.
“Turn around,” he tells the pilot. “Go back.”
Killer Love Page 15