Page 78 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

Devid takes the car up past a hundred and twenty on the straightaway along the canal, weaving around the sparse traffic with both hands locked on the wheel. I try the house again, but the phone rings a few times before the line cuts out and goes to dial tone.

"Fuck!" I scream, smashing my hand on the dashboard so my screen shatters, then I grab the door handle as we round a curve.

Devid takes a shortcut through a residential block, bouncing over a curb and cutting through someone's side yard before slamming back onto a main road. The tires lose traction on the wet surface, and the car fishtails for a sickening second before he corrects it and guns the engine again.

"I don’t know, boss... If Gusev hit the house the way he did the warehouse..."

"Shut up and drive," I growl, not allowing myself to imagine that evil. I'll kill them all.

We hit my street and I can see the house from two blocks away. The front gate's wide open, and there are vehicles I don't recognize parked across the driveway. The security lights are on but half of them are shot out, and the ones still working paint broken shadows across the yard. I see muzzle flashes through the front windows before I hear the gunfire, and by the time Devid skids to a stop I already have my weapon raised and my door open.

"Go around the back," I tell Devid. "Hit them from behind. I'm going through the front."

"Rashid, wait for me to get in position?—"

"There's no time to wait." I'm out of the car and running toward the gate before he can argue. The gravel crunches under my feet and I see a body near the front steps—one of Gusev's men face down with a hole in his back. One of my guards is slumped against the gate post with his rifle across his lap and his chin on his chest, but I don't stop to check if he's breathing.

The front door is blown open and smoke pours out of it. I move through the frame with my weapon up, and the first thing I see is the hallway torn apart. The walls are cratered with bulletholes and the floor's covered in broken glass and shell casings. A painting has fallen off the wall and its frame is shattered across the tile.

Gunfire erupts from the living room, and I press against the wall as rounds chew through the doorframe beside my head. I lean around the corner and fire, then hear a body hit the floor. Someone shouts in Russian from deeper in the house, and more shots ring out from somewhere upstairs.

"Krispin!" I shout down the hallway. "Where's my family?"

A voice comes back from behind the kitchen door; he sounds strained and out of breath. "Marta got your mother and the boy into the panic room," Krispin shouts. "They're locked in and safe, but Gusev has the girl."

My blood goes cold. "Where?" So I wasn't wrong. They weren't trying to get me out of my house just to kill me. They’re coming for Oleg and Emory.

"Living room—he's got her and Rostov and two of his men. I can't get a clean shot from here." Krispin is panting, grunting in pain, and though I can't see him, I assume he's been hit. I pray it's not badly enough that it turns fatal, but I don't have time to doctor him.

I creep down the hallway, stepping over debris and a second body that I recognize as one of Gusev's crew. The living room doorway lies ahead of me and I hear voices behind it. And when I strain my ears I hear Emory's crying.

When I round the corner and take in the scene, my body tenses from head to toe. Gusev stands in the center of my living room with his arm around Emory's throat and a pistol pressed against her temple. His face is flushed and sweating and his eyes have awild look, like he's realizing this might finish him instead being his victory.

Two of his men flank him, one near the window and one near the overturned couch, both with weapons drawn and pointed at the doorway where I'm standing.

"Welcome to the party, Mr. Krasnov. It's about time the guest of honor showed up." Gusev doesn't even look at me when he talks. He's facing down the man he came to kill.

Oleg's on his knees between Gusev and the fireplace, hands raised in front of him, talking frantically. "You don't have to do this," Oleg says, and I can barely understand him. "I can still get you what I promised. Just let her go and we can work something out."

"You've been lying to me for months, Rostov," Gusev snarls, tightening his arm around Emory's neck. She gasps and grabs at his forearm with both hands. "You sold me garbage intelligence and then you hid behind Krasnov like a coward. I came here to collect what you owe me and I'm not leaving without it."

"Let her go," I say from the doorway, but Gusev still doesn’t look at me, though his men aren't taking any chances. Their eyes are locked on me.

Gusev's pistol stays against Emory's temple. "Krasnov. I thought you were at a barbeque." The disgusting smirk on his face pisses me off. He's going to regret every bit of this when I'm done with him.

"Well I didn't burn. Now, let her go." I honestly don't care what they do to Oleg, but if he hurts her I will dissect him like a turkey at Novy God.

"This doesn't concern you," Gusev says, jerking Emory tighter against him. "This is between me and the old man. He stole from me and he fed me lies and now he's going to pay for it. The girl's just insurance until I get what I came for."

"You came for Rostov," I say, keeping my weapon trained on the man near the window. "The girl has nothing to do with your business with Oleg and you know it." I'm not sure what he thinks the old man is going to give up. He has nothing. That hostel was flea bait at best; if the old man had money, he'd have gotten a hotel with it.

"The girl has everything to do with it. She's the leash he used to pull you into his mess." Gusev chuckles darkly and says, "And to think he thought you'd protect them. The fucker called me right in like duck during hunting season..."

"Please," Oleg says from his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Take me. Do whatever you want to me. Just let my daughter go."

"Where is my money, old man?” Gusev snarls, jerking Emory hard. The gun beats against her head and she whimpers, now turning a little blue in the face as she claws at his forearm, nearly crushing her windpipe.

Everything happens in the span of about three seconds. The man near the window shifts his weight and I put a round in his chest before he can fire on me. Then Gusev flinches and his pistol moves a fraction of an inch away from Emory's temple as she drives her elbow backward into his ribs. He doubles forward, and his grip on her throat loosens just Oleg launches himself off his knees at Gusev's gun hand.