"Thank you brother." We grip each other's forearms for a moment."Kto ne riskuyet, tot ne p'yot vodku. He who doesn’t take risks doesn’t drink the vodka."
"I'll have a bottle of Russo-Baltique for us to share afterward," Alexsey says as the SUV slows to a stop. He and two of his men jump out, dropping down and disappearing into the sea grass, like wraiths.
Switching on my headset, I address the rest of the team. "The largest concentration of guests, according to the footage, is in the ballroom and out on the terrace. There hasn't been a glimpse of the three potential grooms nor of the girls. So, they're located elsewhere. Kolya tells me that Morales and his wife just came out on the terrace. Try to take him alive, but if a bullet should somehow end up between his eyes, who am I to criticize you?"
There's a low chorus of chuckles, and then everyone counts off their location and I switch the comma off. Ivan and fifteen of our men are packed into two SUVs as the other vehicles peel off in different directions.
"I'm not worried that they're going to kill the girls," I say. "They want them too badly as prime breeding material. But that doesn't mean they won't hold a gun to their head if we rush them." Everyone around me nods, looking grim. "Move quickly, avoid making noise until we have to. The first one to find their location, sound off to the others."
The entire mansion is lit up like some sort of elaborate spaceship, and the sound bounces off the rocky granite shore, the clink of glasses, the indulgent chatter of guests. Switching off my safety, I take a deep breath, grounding myself.
Violet, my sweet, sweet Violet, your husband's coming for you.
I can vividly picture the expression on her face when she finds out that we're husband and wife, and I can't stop my huge grin. That's a showdown I'm looking forward to.
Violet…
Colin is incandescentwith rage.
During even our worst moments, he's always looked blandly polite. But now, his lips are compressed with fury and in his pale eyes, I can see something darker longing to break out.
He did not enjoy my laughter and I'm trying to dial it back, but even Rose and Iris have their hands over their mouths, desperately trying to hide any evidence of humor.
"Very well," Colin says, between clenched teeth. He straightens his tie, smoothest back his hair. "It is only appropriate then that Violet and I have an extended period of courtship. She will, of course, move in with me and once this ridiculous paperwork is taken care of, we'll marry. In the meantime…" He smiles benignly at Malcolm and Jonas, "Let's get your festivities underway, shall we?"
"I have to be honest," I say. "I don't think you're going to get Roman to agree to an annulment. He's extremely stubborn." I speak softly, so that only he can hear me. I don't want to risk the girls getting hurt. He leans over, and I can smell the scotch on his breath, with something dark and chemical hidden under his expensive cologne. Something that makes my stomach twist.
"He won't live long enough to cause a fuss," he whispers in my ear. "Marrying a widow is much easier than a divorcee, I assure you."
Then, the lights go out.
There are shocked noises from the guests, anxious twittering, the sound of a glass breaking, likely from someone stumbling into someone else in the ballroom. The sun has long set and it's a nearly moonless night, so the darkness is absolute.
"What the hell! What is going on?" Malcolm's peevish tone is that of a man who assumes there shouldalwaysbe someone to 'take care of such things.'
"There's nothing to be concerned about," Colin says. "We have a backup generator." He pulls his phone out and taps the speaker. I recognize the anxious voice, it's fat John Cena. "Sir, the power to the house has been cut, the security cameras are disabled."
"Put everyone on alert, it's obviously Morozov." Colin snaps. "Make sure Morales' men are ready to go. I want them on the front line." He's unpleasantly close, gazing at me with a flat smile. Something that a snake would give to the mouse it's about to devour. "It seems, Violet, that your husband has chosen to make you a widow tonight. Excellent. I won't have to cancel our honeymoon reservations."
The thought of it makes me recoil, and he gets a grip on my arm, digging his fingers in cruelly. Damn these white dresses! In the dim light, we're the most visible thing in the room.
Gunfire breaks out, a harsh staccato roar and Iris shrieks. Bullets spray across the front of the house, and one of the windows in the study explodes inward, jagged glass shards hitting the clerk. He yelps, holding his bloody head.
I can hear it now, the screams, a thunderous boom that shakes the house. The formidable iron gate guarding the front groans, hinges tearing and it slams to the ground as an enormous truck plows through it. The harsh light from a fire on the terrace reflects against the study wall.
None of The Chads pull out a weapon. It's the bleeding clerk that opens a desk drawer and pulls out two .357s, stumbling over to offer one to Colin, who handles it with disconcertingease, checking to make sure it's loaded and flipping off the safety while still gripping my arm with his other hand.
Shit.
Another explosion, close enough to crack the ceiling and sending the chandelier to the floor with a crash that sounds like a sonic boom.
Go go go… get the girls and GO.
I slip my hand in my improvised pocket, drawing out the shard of glass. Colin’s still looking at his gun as I try to drive the glass into his neck. Damnit! He twists at the last second. The glass slices deep into his shoulder with a big spurt of blood.
“Bad girl.” He staggers, off balance.
A high mosquito whine passes my cheek.
