“Fine, then charades. Or that board game where we have to take over your continents,” she waves her hand enthusiastically through the air.
Arkady laughs. “Risk. Okay, well, the challenge is accepted. Boys versus girls in the Andreev family.”
My heart warms when Yulian glances at me, smiling.
He leans close and whispers, “See, everything is going to be just fine.”
Chapter 21 - Yulian
Luka and Arkady are driving in the SUV behind mine. Niko is sitting in my passenger seat with his Glock on his lap and his hand wrapped around the grip. “I swear they’re following us,” he groans, his eyes on the side mirror. “They took a different turn on West Street, but then came back behind us after the last traffic light.”
“Can you see how many guys are in the car?” I ask, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“The windows are too dark. They’re up to no good,” he says. Picking up the radio on the dashboard, he presses a button on the side and speaks into it. “Blue panel van, two cars back.”
Static replies for a second before Luka’s voice comes through. “Definitely trouble.”
“We’re changing course. Keep up,” Niko says, gesturing for me to turn off the main street.
I take a right and double back. Niko wants to get us to a quieter place, away from so many public bystanders. This is always his first priority when operations look like they’re going south.
He also leans over and reaches into the back seat, picking up a semi-automatic rifle and placing a second alongside my seat in case I need it.
“Ready?” he asks, glancing at me.
“Ready,” I nod.
In the middle of the street, I come to a complete stop. Luka and Arkady do the same behind us, and within seconds, three cars appear around us. Standard MO for an attemptedhijacking of our products in transit. These morons didn’t even try something unexpected.
All four of us pile out of the vehicles and open fire with extreme confidence that catches the attackers off guard.
In a matter of seconds, we render the blue van useless. The two men inside are dead, one half-fallen out of the open passenger door with blood running down his body onto the black tar of the road, the other shot through the driver’s window, his head slumped onto the horn, a loud, blaring, intrusive screaming from inside the van.
Arkady grabs the guy’s head and yanks it back, putting an end to the noise.
He ducks around the side of the van and yanks the back door open, but there is no one else inside.
One of the other cars is already trying to reverse, but he’s blocked by his companion’s vehicle. He panics, accelerating forward and hitting a lamp post.
The second and third cars are protected with bulletproof glass.
The guys inside aren’t risking getting out to open fire on us, not after how quickly they saw us deal with the blue van.
“He’s retreating,” Niko shouts, aiming for the tire of the black sedan while the other car keeps trying to maneuver away from the scene.
“Don’t let them get away, we need one of them alive!” Luka shouts back.
In the commotion, my head starts to spin.
I glance down at my body and see blood running over my black jeans, making them darker, sticky and slick.
I touch my fingers to the stain, and they come up bright red.
“Fuck,” I mumble, wondering when it happened.
One of the guys in the van, obviously.
From the left side street, two more cars appear.
