I do the opposite, digging my heels into the roadway, screaming so loud my lungs vibrate. Another man rushes over, grabbing my otherarm and they drag me. There’s a sheen of broken glass on the ground. I can smell gasoline. Dimly, I can see a couple of people on the sidewalk, a mom pushing a baby carriage, a terrified businessman who looks away when my desperate eyes meet his.
They shove me into the back of a car which takes off before the bald man can slam the door shut, and I get a last glimpse of Gio. He falls out of the Range Rover while trying to pull his gun. He slumps to the ground and doesn’t move again.
The security SUV that was following us is on fire, I can hear the piercing siren of a fire engine.
I hope it gets there in time for them.
They shove me down on the seat, I gaze up at the October sky until I pass out.
“You stupid fuckers!” It’s a female voice, and she ispissed. “You can’t handle a simple extraction? Jesus Christ, how hard did you hit her car?”
“It was armored,” the other man snarls. “I had to hit the driver’s side at full speed to stop it.”
He has an accent. After being around Dmitri and Roman for a while, I recognize it.
Russian.
Khokolov. Ah, god.
Bald Guy pulls me out of the car and has to hold me up, I’m reeling like a drunken sailor. Now I can see who’s been screaming at them.
“Russo.”I spat. “Always fucking someone over, huh? I guess it’s my turn again.”
She shrugs. “You know the life you’re in.”
Turning to glare at the men, she snaps, “Now you’re leaving her bleeding out here on the driveway, brilliant plan.”
Bald Guy hates her, I can tell. The big man having to take orders from a woman must be killing him. He hoists me up and the backpack slips off my shoulder.
“No! I need it- Medication- I need the medication.”
Please, my baby, my Murder Mittens, not a single meow, please. Oh, god. What if she’s hurt? Is that why she’s not moving? Where was the backpack, was it behind me? Between me and the seatbelt?
Russo leads the way, bending down and grabbing the strap on the backpack as she goes.
I must have hit my head pretty hard, because the walk up the stairs goes in and out of focus. It’s a grand, sweeping staircase that goes to the second floor and then soars up to the third. There are vividly beautiful paintings on the walls, stolen I’m sure from a museum or two. The enormouscrystal chandelier keeps reflecting facets of light right in my eyes, making me blink and squint painfully.
Another set of steps. We’re going up to the third floor.There's a little Juliet balcony there in front of a single door. Bald Guy has to drag me most of the way, and he’s cursing at me, at Russo, at the universe in general by the time she opens a door.
“Put her down on the bed.Gently,you asshole. If she got a concussion from the crash, Kholodov will carve you up.”
I can almost smell the hate radiating off him as he gives her a glare before stepping out into the hallway, his back to us.
Russo pulls a penlight from her pocket, moving it over my face. “Your pupils are the same size, that’s good. You’re bleeding from a cut on your temple but it’s not important. Head wounds always bleed a lot. You’ll get cleaned up in a minute.”
“You cut a deal with Wallace last time.” The words are barely a breath as she leans over me. “You know he’ll double whatever Kholodov is paying you.”
She chuckles. “I was working for the Pakhan last time as well. He sent me along on that pathetic kidnapping attempt because he knew Marlena would fuck it up. Damn, that woman was a pieceof work.”
“Don’t do this.” Clumsily, I sit up, head still reeling. My backpack is by the bed, I see the fabric move subtly.
Oh, thank god she’s okay! MM, be still.
“A mercenary who doesn’t keep to their agreement is a dead mercenary,” she says indifferently.
“A mercenary who makes a deal is a rich mercenary who can retire and go buy an island or something,” I whisper.
She steps back from the bed, eyeing my bloody face. “There’s a doctor coming to check on you. There’s a bathroom through that door if you want to clean up.”
