There are shouts behind him, boots pounding down the narrow hall.
So close they’re so close.
This seems to galvanize him and he lifts his gun, pointing it in my direction. “I have my orders,” he rasps, “you’ll not leave this train car alive Morana Ivanova,shlyukha,you whore!”
He’s going to shoot me. That’s okay. Better me than them. But then his gun barrel wavers and he’s aiming at the Sweater Girl and I shout, “I’m over here, you fuck! I knew your aim was shit but this is-”
I thought it would hurt worse.
It feels like a giant fist punches me in the chest, throwing me backward. I hear screaming and it’s not mine because I can't breathe and there’s blood and that is mine. It’s bubbling from my stomach like a fountain and I press my hands on it trying to make it go away.
“Oh, fuck.”
I know that voice. Dougal’s hands are on my face and he’s ripped off his jacket to put it under my head.
“Get the medic!”
The Sweater Girl is holding my hand, but I’m getting cold and it’s hard to feel her.
This is the true curse of the Ivanovs. That finally, when I’ve found love, when I’m going to be a mother, I’m going to die on this train filled with my father’s other victims. But maybe that will finally make it right.
“My sweet girl what- oh, love…” Cameron is hovering over me, cupping my face.
“Hey…” I smile as he kisses my forehead, my lips. A woman is pushing him aside and her capable hands are on my stomach, pressing down and it burns so much. Now the pain comes slamming down on me and I wail before I can stop it.
Now, I remember. “Baby…” I groan. Cameron shakes his head, confused, his eyes wet.
“Ma’am, are you pregnant?” the woman interrupts.
“Yes.” It’s too soon. I knew I would die but the baby’s not ready. “Too soon…” Her hands are a blur and Cameron is shouting something. I close my eyes. Just for a minute.
Cameron…
Morana has been adamant about the karmic bad luck that she thinks follows her like a black cloud. I always dismissed it as part of her superstitious Russian roots. But how is she lying on the filthy floor of this train car? Why isn’t she safe at home?
A baby. We’re having ababy?
“Boss, we are taking your wife out of this train car,” Davina, our medic, shouts in my ear. “I need to know you are listening to me right now.”
Everything that faded into gray around us suddenly slams back into full-color intensity and I nod, rising as they lift Morana onto a makeshift stretcher. Like muscle memory, I look down at my watch. Sixty seconds behind schedule. The girls are all safely loaded in the vehicles. Then everything about the mission is gone and my wife is the only thing that matters.
“Brother, the C4 is loaded,” Dougal’s gripping my shoulder as we race for the helicopter. “I’ll see to this. You go with your wife.”
Years of planning and fighting to end the last strain of the disease that was the Yakuza and Bratva who kidnapped my sister and my little cousins. I’ve visualized pushing the button on those explosives maybe a thousand times since we made this plan. Now all the details are hazy and indistinct, the sight of my pale Morana, heaving for breath is the only thing I can see.
“Go.” I choke out the words, “Thank you.”
Slapping my arm, he nods. “Go take care of yer wife, arsehole. I got this.”
I hear the train start up again as Morana is secured, but I don’t look back. We’re up in the air and speeding toward St. Petersburg and I whisper like a prayer, “You’re all right. The baby is fine. I love you, wife.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
In which there are hospital rooms. And long-awaited justice
Cameron…
My headphones crackle and I hear Cormac’s voice. “Brother, we’ve got a problem. Stepanov had people in your circle, the Norwegian couple. They took Morana and Miss Kevin to Moscow. I just got a call from Miss Kevin, they shot her and left her for dead, she doesn’t know where Morana-”
