The man nods, but looks like he wants to say something as he frowns and runs a hand through his thinning hair.
Apparently the Russians notice. “Spit it out, Mr. Levine.”
He holds up a palm. “I’m not complaining mind you. But maybe next time go easy on the drugs. She barely moved.”
“That sounds like complaining to me,” one of the men on the sofa growls.
He looks flustered but just nods. “It’s all good gentlemen. See you next week.” He moves quickly to the door.
When he opens it, all hell breaks loose.
My men are blocking the doorway. One of them puts a bullet in his forehead, and then they pile through the door.
Before the Russians can react, their bodies are filled with lead. It’s over in seconds. We move in and survey the damage. Blood seeps into the furniture as their eyes stare vacantly at us.
“How many were out front?” I ask Fausy.
He inserts a fresh magazine in his Beretta and chambers a round. “Four.”
“All right, let’s bring all the bodies inside.” I text my brother to bring around the SUVs for the next phase of the plan. Then turn to Gunnar. “Come with me to get the women out.”
Gunnar and I move down the hall. There are four closed doors. We open the first door slowly. Five naked and bound women lay on mattresses. Two of them are also gagged.
I flick on the light, and they stir. As they blink their eyes open, whimpers begin to fill the room.
“You go to the next room, I got this,” I whisper to Gunnar.
Moving into the room, I crouch between the mattresses and lift the balaclava so they can see my face. “I’m not here to hurt you,” I say. “We’re here to help you.” I meet each woman’s terrified gaze. “Do you understand?”
“What about the men?” one of them asks, her chin tilted up bravely in defiance despite the terror in her eyes.
“They’re no longer a threat.”
They glance at each other and then back at me. A few of them nod, but the skepticism is hard to miss.
“I’m going to remove your bindings and get you out of here.” I unsheathe a knife from where it’s strapped to my thigh, and the women flinch in unison.
“It’s okay,” I say soothingly, moving slowly to the first woman. I carefully cut the zip ties on her ankles and wrists, my blood boiling at the raw wounds on her pale skin. “There you go.”
I move to the next woman, as that one removes the gag from her mouth, and a small cry escapes her throat. As I cut the second woman loose, I can feel the energy shift in the room. The others are sitting up, realizing I am actually here to help, eager to be set free.
When I have all the women freed, I use my knife to cut the sheets in half, so they have something to cover themselves with.
They wrap them around their emaciated, bruised bodies, two with tears streaming down their faces, the others sitting in the silence of trauma.
As I help the last woman to her feet, her haunted eyes catch mine. “Where will we go?”
“They will find us. Kill us,” a petite brunette with a yellowing bruise on her face says on a sob.
“The police will be taking you to a safe house,” I assure them.
Horror fills the room as they start crying, “No nonettpolitsy!”
I hold up my hand. “I promise you will not be going to jail. You have my word.”
They follow me out of the room, and we meet Gunnar in the hall with six other women in the same state behind him and one unconscious in his arms. She looks about fourteen.
“Fuckers,” he growls as his eyes meet mine. His are an ice-blue fire within a stone face.
