West.
“Let him go, Ry. It’s over. He’s bleeding out.” Strong hands help me up, and West’s concerned face swims in and out of focus for a few seconds until I get my bearings and shake off his hold. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
Inara stands over a dead Blondie, her gun trained on Kolya as he tries to stop blood pouring from his stomach. It’s hopeless. The stain on his white shirt is almost black. The shot caught him in the liver, and he has minutes at most.
West pulls his multi-tool from his belt and turns to Wren, sitting on the floor, still wheezing, frantically trying to unwind the strap from her neck and staring off into nothing. “She’s panicking, Ry. Calm her down while I get this fucking thing off her.”
“Wren, baby. Look at me.” I cup her cheeks, brushing her tears away with my thumbs, then cursing under my breath as I smear blood across her pale skin. “Dammit.” Wiping my hand on my pants, I lean closer, ghosting my lips over hers. “Wren. Take a deep breath for me.”
“C-can’t,” she stutters. West unwinds the strap from her neck, and I stroke the bruised and abraded skin.
“Yes, you can.” Gently, I press her fingers to my carotid artery. “Feel my heartbeat.” I mirror her position, breathing slowly, audibly, until she stops shaking and her eyes start to focus. “There you are.”
A quiet sob escapes her lips, and she tries to peer around me. “Is he…”
“Almost,” Inara mutters. “He’s going to have a very painful last few minutes.” West snaps the zip tie around Wren’s wrists, then heads for the French doors.
“Where are the girls?” I ask as I pull Wren into my arms, ignoring the burning pain shooting through my shoulder.
“In the car with Semyon.” West angles a glance down at the square. “As soon as we got them to the vehicle, we headed back in. We were almost to the third floor when the lights went out. The police are on the way. If we don’t want a whole lot of trouble, we need to get the fuck out of here.”
I struggle to my feet, keeping Wren tucked against my side. “Can you walk, sweetheart?”
She nods vigorously, her red curls bouncing. She’s still half-panicky, but her voice is stronger now, and her gaze doesn’t leave Kolya as I guide her towards the door. “Y-yes.”
I spare the Russian a quick look, and the truth registers in his eyes. He knows he’s dead. His mouth opens and closes, but he can only gurgle weakly.
Returning my focus to Wren, I whisper, “He’ll never hurt you again, baby. We’re going home.”
* * *
I calledin a favor once we landed in Moscow, and two hours later, a former Special Forces instructor met us at a private terminal with a van to take the girls somewhere safe. He’ll arrange for new papers and good jobs once they have a few weeks to recover from being starved and beaten by Kolya and his men.
The sun is setting as we land at a military airfield outside Boston. The headsets protecting our hearing made it hard for me to be as close to Wren as I wanted on the flight, and the uncomfortable jump seats allowed only piss-poor rest, but we both fell asleep halfway over the Atlantic with my good arm slung around her shoulders. West dug out the bullet while we waited for my buddy, gave me a shot of antibiotics, and stitched me up. Thank God no one else was seriously hurt.
Inara and West deplane first, followed by Semyon and Elena. The brother and sister hold onto one another and blink up at the red and orange sky.
“Time to go, baby,” I say as I help Wren to her feet. She’s barely said ten words to me since we left Kolya’s mansion, and I can’t stand the silence between us. She moves stiffly—we all do—but as soon as she catches sight of our welcoming committee, she lets out a sob.
Dax and Ford stand with their backs to the setting sun, and Pixel bounces around at their feet, her little tail whipping around fast enough it’s just a blur of white. Two SUVs idle nearby, one with a uniformed driver behind the wheel.
“Pixel. You brought Pixel,” Wren whispers as she drops to her knees in front of the men. The little dog wriggles in her arms, and she buries her face in the soft fur.
Ford offers me a firm handshake and gestures for me to follow him—and Dax—while Inara wraps an arm around Wren’s shoulders and murmurs to her quietly.
Out of earshot, Ford shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re all set up at the Fairmont again under a fresh ID and clean credit card. Figured you’d all need a couple of days, so we arranged for a flight to Seattle for you and your team on Thursday.”
“Wren, too,” Dax adds. “Until we can guarantee the Roxbury arm of Kolya’s organization withers and dies without him, she’s safer out of Boston.”
I stare at her, Pixel in her arms, Inara leading her over to one of the SUVs. This is her home. Where her brother lived…and died. How can I ask her to leave? “It has to be her choice.”
Raking a frustrated hand through his tousled locks, Dax half-growls, “There is no choice. She’s not safe here right now, and you can protect her.”
“I’d die for her.” Both men wear twin expressions of shock. “I love her. I want a life with her. Fuck. I wantthe restof my life with her. But you know her well enough to understand she’s never going to let us tell her shehasto do anything.”
With a chuckle, Ford shakes his head. “You’re right. But…maybestrongly suggestshe at least go out to Seattle for a little vacation?”
