“Blondie,” Wren whispers next to me. “I mean…I think his name is Victor. He…was one of the men who took me. He’s…Kolya’s favorite.”
Her usually pale face is even whiter than usual, and her eyes glassy. I reach over and rest my hand on the back of her neck, squeezing gently until she blows out a breath.
But when I look back at the tablet, my blood runs cold. Blondie—Victor—and another man have Inara cornered in the opulent bathroom, guns drawn.
“Now, boys,” she says, laying her Russian accent on even thicker. “I am certain there has been some mistake.”
“No mistake. You and your boss are dead,cyka.” Blondie rushes her, and after she throws a punch and tries to duck under his arm, the camera cuts out.
42
Ryker
“Fuck! Whiskey, report! Indigo is under fire.” West’s camera shows only the freight elevator doors, but the image still moves. Over comms, Inara grunts and glass shatters.
“Almost to the basement. India! Check in!” West snaps.
“A little…busy…” After a loud crack, a hiss sounds in my ear, and Wren checks the audio feed.
“Dead.” She hunches closer to the screen, lines of code scrolling by faster than I can read them. “I’m trying to hack into Kolya’s network. Shit. He discovered my back door. I can’tdoanything from here!”
“Hostiles,” West says. “Stay behind me, kid.”
Two shots, and I can’t sit still any longer. Turning to Wren, I take her face in my hands. Fear churns in her eyes. “Baby, listen to me. Get behind the wheel. Engine running. I have to get them out of there. They don’t have enough firepower.”
“No, Ry. Please…don’t—”
West’s strained voice fills our ears. “Romeo, we’re pinned down. One clip left. Switching to lethals.”
“I have to, Wren. They’re my family. Keep the engine running and, on my mark, you haul ass to the back of that fortress. Keep as low as you can, and if I tell you I’m blown, you go to Safehouse Bravo and get in touch with Graham. You hear me?”
Tears tumble onto her cheeks, but she nods. “I…I love you.”
A vise squeezes my heart so hard I can’t breathe. “I love you too, little bird.” Pushing my door open, I shove to my feet, sprint to the back of the SUV, and grab an M-80 and extra clips. I have two pistols and four mags tucked into my vest, and I’ll kill every single one of them if I have to.
“Engine running, sweetheart. Be ready for my signal.” Wren slides into the driver’s seat, and I lean in, snake my hand around the back of her neck, and pull her into me for one passionate moment. The kiss is hard, desperate, and greedy, and I’d live right here if I could. For the rest of my life. But I won’t ever leave a man—or woman—behind. I can’t.
Without looking back, I take off at a run.
* * *
I reachthe backdoor of the mansion in record time and kick the deadbolt in. The hallway is utterly silent, and I race towards the ladies’ room. Inara’s my first priority. She was outnumbered and armed with only a knife and a small pistol in an ankle holster. West at least had extra magazines.
As I round the corner, a tall, dark-haired man with neck tattoos shouts something in Russian and takes aim. A single shot to his kneecap takes him down, and I kick his gun away, then slam the butt of my pistol against his head. I’ll kill every single motherfucker in Kolya’s employ if I have to—as long as my team and Wren are safe, but I’d rather not add more red to my ledger if I don’t have to.
At the ladies’ room door, I pause and listen. Nothing. Pushing inside, I gawk. Water spews from a broken sink, the mirror is shattered into a thousand pieces, and the ornately carved wooden door to the toilet is off its hinges. Blood smears the fancy carpet, and one of Kolya’s men lies dead, a gaping knife wound across his throat.
“India. Report.” Nothing. A glint of light catches my eye as I reach for the knob. Her necklace.
“Base? Over.”
Silence.
“Fuck.” Yanking the burner phone from one of my many pockets, I check the bars. No signal. Kolya’s got a jammer. I’m on my own. We all are.
* * *
Wren
