I pushed open the bedroom door and scanned the room in seconds. No hiding spaces. No closet—just a pipe fixed on the wall.
A mattress slumped on the floor. In seconds, I’d searched everywhere and couldn’t find my reason to breathe. Just signs of her. Natasha’s orange Converse All Stars sat kicked off near the wall.
A cross pendant glinted on the floor near the window. I dropped to my knees. She wore it constantly, a too-large gift from Vassili Resnov, her father.
I clutched the cross. My heart wedged in my throat.
And then I saw her.
Outside the window.
Thrown over a man’s shoulder. Shoeless, she kicked. Screamed. Fought. Yet, the neighbors, getting ready for work, simply watched. Another guy with an AK-47 crouched in the back of a van, ready to receive her.
She looked up, and wild, fearful eyes locked onto mine. My name tore through her lips. The gunman in the cargo space kicked up the weapon. A barrage shattered the silence. I dove. Glass exploded. Rained over my head. I scrambled to my feet in the hallway and ran down the stairs toward the apartment’s main entrance.
I barreled out of the building. Glock up. No men.
No gunfire. Lorenzo Ferri hadn’t sent anyone to finish me off. Not yet.
I sprinted to the motorcycle parallel parked behind a box truck on the opposite curb—stolen last night, still hot-wired, waiting. I slammed a foot and moved slowly around the truck that wasn’t there minutes ago. I twisted the throttle. The engine roared. The second I sped around the truck, a forearm, thick as atree trunk, came out of nowhere. Someone stood in front of the truck, a silent, immovable force. Impact hit like a stone.
Air gone, my body flew backward, the bike sliding without me. I hit the asphalt hard while pain detonated through my spine.
A shadow crouched beside me.
Vassili Resnov. His moist eyes, cold and calculating, darkened into molten steel and heartbreak. “I just want my daughter.” His accent was heavier than usual; his voice shredded with grief. “Will you do me this solid favor, Lachlan MacKenzie? Give memoya doch’!”
As I lay begging God to help me reach Natasha, another figure approached.
“No father should utter that question. Much less, my brother’s mouth.” Simeon Resnov was a bullet in a tailored suit. He slipped behind me, wrapped an arm around my throat, and pulled me into a seated position on the ground. You’ve lost sight of who we are,GospodinMacKenzie. You should fear us more than you desire my niece.”
I struggled against his hold and the pain that radiated through my body. “T-Tash is in trouble.”
“Lies,” Simeon hissed, cutting off my air again.
“Where ismoya doch’?” Vassili growled for his daughter, a thread of anger bleeding through the restraint that would otherwise have me trembling with fear. My fear was that she …
That she would piss off Lorenzo again and he’d?—
Footsteps came like a swarm, closing in around me.
Vassili lifted his gaze, eyes sweeping over the surrounding flats. “Check every room, every corner.”
I gasped through taut lips. What would he do to his enforcers when they returned without her?
I struggled against Simeon’s hold, the light of the world fading. Nae. It faded the second Natasha screamed my name as Lorenzo had her taken.
“Sim,” Vassili said. “I want to grant him mercy.”
A snort came from Simeon as he placed cold steel to my forehead. “Be honest now, Lach. For your soul’s sake”
Simeon lessened his grip enough for me to struggle the words out. “Mr. Resnov, I-I love your daughter. Just as much as she loves me.”
My woman’s father shook his head, profound sadness in his eyes. “I don’t have the capacity for lies. Natasha is my only little girl. I almost lost her to leukemia. She was a littleg?rl. If I could’ve taken her struggle, I would’ve. She’s too sweet.”
“Too, too sweet,” Simeon agreed. “I remember when you told me you found out that students bullied her.”
“Cancer girl?” Vassili tore the words to shreds through clenched teeth, a flash of the monster he could be. “She wouldn’t allow me to retaliate against any of them. Of course, they were high schoolers, but I applied a certain level of grace”—he slid the smooth side of a sharp knife along my cheek—“in reprisal. She’s too good for us. A true blessing.”
