“No need. I have my own.”
He rolls his eyes at me. He must be furious. I never do this shit. But tonight, I need to get my hands dirty.
“You carry this, then,” he says, handing me a backpack. The bag is heavy as I slump it over my shoulders. I know exactly what’s inside. C4. “You’ll follow me and you won’t ask questions,” he says, trying to convey the message with a glare.
“Yes, boss,” I taunt him.
He shows the guys their directions and makes a few hand gestures that send them running toward the building. Dom and I follow along, crouching slightly and making our way as quietly as possible. My freshly polished shoes trudge through the wet ground, and for a second, I regret not listening to Dom. Not that I’d admit it.
Four guys head to the front entrance of the distillery, while one guy joins Dom and me on our way to the back. Dom lifts his fist in the air, and I don’t have to be military trained to know it means stop. There’s a guard taking a piss near the back entrance. The sound of his urine hitting the grass covers the sound of our steps as we reach him. Dom wraps an arm around his neck, pressing a gun to his head. With a quiet click, it fires, and the guard drops to the floor.
We continue our way inside, planting the explosivesfrom the backpack I’m wearing. We zigzag around the copper tanks where they ferment the potatoes. By the sheer amount of alcohol inside, the place is already a ticking time-bomb, but now, I can’t wait to see it up in flames.
Dom’s guy shoots another guard as he approaches us, and eventually, we run into the rest of our group. Using hand signals again, we split and make our way out. We pass three dead bodies. My nose scrunches with disgust. I’d feel guilty if it weren’t for the fact that the Russians killed my father. No, the bastards deserve everything coming to them.
We exit the building, and Dom extracts a small black device. He runs toward our cars, and I follow behind.
“Give me that,” I whisper, and he widens his eyes.
This entire trip must have come as a shock to him. I’m the guy living a cushy life inside one of my offices, not the guy planting explosives or detonating them. Still, I don’t mind the way my heart pumps faster, or the way my brain is busy enough not to think about the shock of everything I learned yesterday.
Dom hands me the detonator, and I take a long, hard look at it. My gaze turns both ways, counting the men to make sure we’re all here, before my fist squeezes around the device.
A barely audible click is followed by a deafening boom. The rapid release of energy rattles my bones, making me duck instinctively as the ground shakes beneath me. The windows shatter, and the heat of the fire fills the air. The smell of smoke seeps into my nostrils as I wince from the buzz in my ears, staring at the mesmerizing scene in front of me. My eyes widen, while the fire crackles before them, and my breath comes in short bursts. I could get used to this. It’s the most alive I’ve felt since… Well, since the last night I spent with Alex.
The thought sours my mood again. I thank the men and get into the car. Dom starts it, and we ride for a few minutes before he breaks the silence.
“So, should I expect you to join us on more of these jobs?” he asks, shooting me a quick glance.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Not that I mind. But I’d prefer you to wear appropriate attire and have the full gear.”
My gaze drops to my now-wrinkled suit and ruined shoes. It wasn’t my plan to blow up a building today, but waiting around has become insufferable.
It’s after midnight when I get home, but the first thing I do when I enter my building is visit my little prisoner. He looks like shit. The stench emanating from him is vomit-inducing, and his bloodied, beaten face doesn’t look any better. His breaths are short and heavy, courtesy of the broken ribs. He’s still alive thanks to Dom and Andre’s efforts to patch him up and feed him just enough to survive.
I repeat the same process as last night. A kick to the ribs. A stomp to the groin. A hammer to the arm — other arm this time. A punch to the face.
I didn’t have much of a plan when I took him, guided by the blinding rage that was coursing through me after I found out what he did to Alex. While I stare at him a hair away from death, I’m not sure I have one now. There is a feeling deep in my chest, like there is a purpose to him being here, but I haven’t found it yet.
I take my first deep breath as I enter the building’s hallway. Still, the stench sticks to my nose as the elevator takes me upstairs to the apartment. I huff, trying to expel the smell as I turn the doorknob. The second my foot steps inside, something hits me in the face. The rotten smell is replaced by a flowery scent and I realize Alex threw the flowers I got her at my head. I spit out a rose petal, catching the flowers before they hit the floor.
Glancing up at her, I’m met with the fire in her eyes. She looks me up and down, as if checking whether I’m in one piece. Her cheeks are rosy with anger, and I can’t help but notice howbeautiful she looks. Gorgeous blue eyes are narrowed at me as she crosses her arms in front of her chest, before she lets out a scoff and walks away.
“What was that for?” I call after her, though I have a pretty good idea. I’d do anything to keep her attention just a little longer.
“If that was an attempt at an apology for how you acted, it’s not accepted.” She barely glances back at me.
“It wasn’t.”
“Good. Because it’s way too late for that.”
“Were you waiting around for me?”
She lets out a full-on growl, and a smirk forms on my lips. Was she worried about me? It’s obvious she’s pissed at me, but I can work with that. I’d take flying objects at my face over her tear-filled eyes any day of the week.
CHAPTER 35
