If you chase two rabbits,
You will not catch either one.
-Russian Proverb
The past few days have been hell with all the traveling we’ve had to do. I can’t believe it’s not over with yet. First, it was Russia; I’d forgotten how much I love the country I came from. I want to bring Sasha to visit someday so she can see her home as well. I hope she returns to me. I still haven’t heard from her, and it’s driving me mad inside.
The second stop was Italy. I’d never felt so outnumbered before, even doing my undercover jobs being knee deep amongst criminals in the States. Don Franchetti could’ve easily had us all murdered had he wanted to, but alas, money is too important when there are high amounts of it involved. On the upside, the food was delicious, even if I was paranoid taking each bite of it.
Then we stopped to look over the supply of women they had in China. It truly was another country. It reminded me of New York on steroids—so many people and they were everywhere. I was completely jet-lagged by that point; everything was a blur. My stomach is churning from the array of foods. I’m eating Tums like they’re mint candies trying to find some relief.
When we finally touch down in Miami, I could kiss the ground. It feels great to be back on American soil with the humidity hugging my skin in a warm greeting. The flights were long, stressful, and exhausting.
“Alexei, remember our conversation,” Viktor orders the General as we come to a stop in front of a Spanish-style mansion. It’s smaller than all the others we’ve visited so far but the cost of living here is much more expensive, so it’s not surprising.
I was present for the conversation he’s talking about. Someone has to stay with Don Franchetti at all times, and Alexei has to drop a sonar device somewhere that won’t be noticed, so our men have the full layout details to get to the Don tonight when we overrun each property. The men are all waiting for our go to save the women and either kill or take the prisoner, the men working for the Don. Most likely they’ll die. At this point, I have no sympathy for any of them. They lost the possibility of mercy being shown to them long ago.
I can’t stop thinking about Sasha. I wish she’d speak to me, but the phone has done nothing but ring each time I try calling her. She’s stubborn, even more so then myself I think. Even with all the drama happening on our end, she’s never far from my thoughts. It’s dangerous being distracted like this, but it is what it is.
“Everyone ready?” Tate asks, gazing at each of us, waiting for our nod before opening the door on the latest town car.
I know now, I’d never have been able to pull this entire operation off if it weren’t for my two cousin's help along with their men. Not just because of their money, but also because of the backup they have behind them and the extra bit of strength they offer me that I hadn’t realized I needed. Everything is so much easier in this life when you have people standing beside you. It makes me wonder if I’d been around them growing up, if I would’ve been in this life from the get-go, and if it would be me in Viktor’s position right now.
I’m happy he has it; I just can’t help but think that things would’ve been different for all of us.
There’s loud banging, rattling the door and when I peek through the tiny peephole, I’m met with a mammoth of a Sicilian. Part of me thinks my nightmares have just come true. They’ve come to collect me and bring me back to the Master. But how did they find me? I’ve been gone only a few days from Victor’s home. Unless there have people watching me, or maybe Beau. They have men everywhere, I’m sure of it.
Another bang that shakes the thin wood door and I’m quickly turning to the phone, lighting it up and hitting Victor’s number. He answers immediately thankfully.
“Da?”
“Sicilians.” I choke out, my hands beginning to tremble. I don’t want to go back there again. “What do I do? “
He’s shouting at his men is fast Russian while listening to me. He has someone close by he says.
“You go to the bathroom and lock the door, quiet as a mouse. My men can be at your location in three minutes, barely enough time for them to break through both the main and bathroom doors.”
I rush to the minuscule hole of a bathroom and lock the door. It’s flimsy and cheap, so I wrap the plastic shower curtain around the handle and tie it to the towel rack. It may only help for seconds, but that could be just enough extra time for Victor to get here.
“Door locked?”
I whisper, “Da.”
Is there a window?”
“Da.” I shakily reply again.
“Look out it and tell me if anyone is there.”
“Da, two.”
“Good girl. Lie in the bathtub and don’t move until you hear my men call you little Dove.”
“Spaseeba,” I speak the Russian words I’ve heard Beau say so many times. They bring me comfort.
He hangs up, and I can hear my heart thundering in my chest. It’s been a long time since I was scared enough for the pounding in my ears to be so vivid.
The door to the hotel room bursts open with what I’m assuming is a curse in their language. My teeth begin to chatter next, and I may chip one if I can’t get myself to calm down. It sounds as if they’re tossing the mattress and the closet door bangs open. The small set of drawers that are screwed into the wall are all ripped out, and I swallow, my throat bone-dry as they tear the room to shreds.
“Stupid woman,” I hear the pissed off man who was at the door grumble.
“Check the bathroom, she’s here hiding; no one saw her leave.”
The heavy steps draw near the room and then three loud sounding thuds. It’s as if there were three of them and they suddenly fell to the floor or into a wall. It’s silent afterward, no noise at all except my labored breaths.
I concentrate on breathing. I’d stopped when I heard them talking. A few beats pass then a sturdy but kind, “Little Dove? Are you hurt?” It’s said with a Russian accent, not like the Sicilians.
Relief. Jesus, I feel relief like no other at his voice. It’s Rolo, one of the guards from outside of Victor’s home.
I stand, but my legs are a bit wobbly with adrenaline thrumming through my body at nearly being discovered by the bad men. I know Victor’s guys aren’t the greatest people either, but they’ve been kind to me.
Unwrapping the plastic curtain from the door, I open it a bit and peek my head out.
I’m met with Rolo’s goofy smile. The same one he always gives me when he’s smoking out in the garden and I go for my walks with Beau. It’s comforting to see a familiar face.
“Come, Little Dove. Boss is not happy. ”
I asked before why they all call me such a silly name. Beau says it’s because I’m like a tiny bird who was caged but belongs free. He says I deserve to fly when I want to. Does this time count or will I be scolded?
Seeing him is reassuring, but not nearly as much as when Victor’s solid frame enters. He steps over the now-dead Sicilians spread out on the floor like he’s attempting not to get his expensive shoes dirty. Victor’s older, but he’s still strong like Beau and very handsome in his own way. I would guess when he was a younger man, he looked just like Beau.
He holds a hand out toward me, and I place my small palm in his. He’s never touched me before, and I see it for what it is, a peace offering and to give me a sense of comfort. I’m grateful more than he can imagine.
“You’re not mad?” I gaze into his stern eyes, mine full of caution. He has every right to be furious, to punish me. I know the Master wouldn’t have shown me kindness. He most likely would’ve killed me as an example to the others for thinking about being free, maybe worse—torture of some kind.
“Nyet.” He tugs me a bit closer to him, towing me toward the door. On our way outside, he gestures to my room, making a sweeping motion with his hands and his men go to work cleaning up the bodies and blood like it never even happened. An easy feat for them with their training to make it all disappear.
There’s a shiny new, dark gray Cadillac SUV idling at the curb. It’s a flawless vehicle and screams wealth. None of the shady people standing about outside and around the hotel glance our way. They all stare at the ground like one look at us will seal their fate, and with Victor, perhaps that fear is true.
Another guard climbs out of the driver’s side and opens the door closest to us. Victor steps to the side so I can scramble into the back first, then he follows. The door closes quietly after him, and we’re encased in silence and darkness from the nearly-black tint on the windows. The air’s rich with a heady leather scent from the interior and his spicy aftershave.
“The men in the back!” I suddenly remember, and he shakes his head, raising his hand to calm me.
“They’ve been taken care of. No one will harm you,” he responds with finality as we pull away from the cheap motel.
“Why aren’t you angry?” My gaze is still wary as I twist my hands in my lap. My experience with men has me on edge nearly all the time, well, except with Beau. He calms my anxiety that I’m always fighting with inside.
“You belong to moy sin. I will do anything to keep you safe for him.”
“Spaseeba.” It leaves me quietly, my eyes falling to my hands.
I’m feeling unbelievably childish for making him chase down and rescue me after being somewhat ungrateful for all they’ve done. I should never have tried to leave. I may be a free bird, but my wings are more or less clipped. They always will be. I’m not meant to go off exploring on my own. Some may think it’s weak, but it’s just truth. Not all of us are meant to be strong. Some of us are weaker and the stronger ones—like Beau—balance us out.
“Nyet.”
“No?”
“He will hear of this. Do not thank me.” There’s no negotiation. It’s a promise, and I know Beau won’t be pleased to hear about this little venture.
“Now Spartak!” I order as I hear the first explosion go off, so he’ll grab Don Franchetti and stop him from escaping.
One shot to Yema’s forehead and my clips empty. I don’t reload, holstering and grabbing my other gun from the opposite side. It’s loaded as are the other two I’m packing. With Cappeloni’s death, my heart speeds up, excited one piece of scum is out of the way forever. Not very cop-like of me, but I’m no longer that person.
I won’t go around killing innocent people in the future or anything, but I can easily admit that the death of these men will not weigh on my conscience. Good fucking riddance is my thinking after witnessing all the women we have the past few days. These guys are lucky Vik isn’t capturing them all to torture them with his blow torch like he enjoys doing to the worst of men.
A bullet flies beside me, and I flip around quickly, finding Viktor had shot a guy behind me. This place is a goddamn madhouse with shots being fired from all directions.
“Fuck!” I shout and glare at Franchetti. His stupid men charge after us like a bunch of goddamn cowboys or something, and we have to kill them all so they don’t kill us.
This is not what I wanted—at all. I was planning less casualties overall with more witnesses and freed women. I don’t give a shit if the President has spoken to Tate about it or not and given his blessing with our plans. We’re the lesser evil, yes, but I hate having so many dead bodies popping up everywhere. My soul is already black enough from killing the criminals I did while I was undercover. I need to concentrate on the worst of the worst.
These Italians are acting like they’re at a freaking shootout in the Wild West rather than a takeover from another Boss. Hell, it’s more of a takeover from all the Russians, not just one boss.
“We have to get out!” Tate yells. “Now! Reinforcements will arrive any minute, here’s our window.”
“The women!” I shout back as we trade fire with a few more guards. They hit the ground with all of us on them, shooting to kill. We have many more hours of training and are extra lethal when we’re together like this.
“Alexei, Spartak, and Finn can help get them to the vans and the airport. Tate’s right, we need to leave. We have to get to the jet with Don Franchetti while the path is clear. We may not have a better chance.” Viktor agrees, and I pull the zip ties from my pocket.
Franchetti’s men would check our guards at each new place, but I never let them touch my cousins or me. So we carried the equipment we needed to pull this off. Tate with the sonar devices, me with the zip ties and smoke bombs, and Viktor arranged all the backup, transportation and infiltration of our own weapons to be ready for our men to do a hostile takeover.
Shit’s been crazy.
I rush toward the Don. Yanking him around, I secure his hands behind him, in the same fashion I did on the force. Once we’re all boarded safely on the jet, I’ll be securing his feet as well. No way am I letting this asshole get away from me now.
Jerking him along, we head out the back where we have a hummer on standby. It’s reinforced to take the brunt if we come under more fire, which we do immediately as we head toward the entry gate. Viktor figured we’d need a bigger vehicle in case we ended up having to squish a bunch of us in here to escape an ambush.
One of the fuckers armed at the gate has what appears to be a mini rocket launcher propped on his shoulder, pointed at us. Franchetti laughs jovially as he sees it—stupid fucker. They won’t shoot, though. We have the head of their organization with us. In Miami coming out of this mini-compound, I feel as if we should be in Cuba or something right now. These fuckers are crazier than Russian soldiers who’ve been up all night drinking.
“Sei uno stupido, desperato e illuso,” Franchetti mutters, shaking his head.
“Did you just call me stupid?” I glare at him, and Viktor chuckles.
“He called you a fool, a desperate one,” Viktor informs me, and I glare over at Franchetti again. Of course, my cousin knows multiple languages. I don’t know why it never occurred to me to ask him if he knew what the hell they were saying around us.
Viktor speeds as much as he can without calling too much attention to us in the massive beast of a vehicle. We don’t want the cops on us. Who knows who’s in Franchetti’s pocket down here. This isn’t our territory.
I mean theirs; this isn’t my cousin’s territory. I’m becoming too comfortable, obviously.
“You’ll be desperate once we’re ready to extract intelligence,” I mutter, peeved this cocky fucker’s so smug still.
“You will get nothing,” he bites out, and I slam my elbow into the side of his head, making him swear loudly.
“Oh, but we’ve nearly taken everything already,” Tate counteracts. “We have your locations that are all being taken over as we speak, you’re losing a ton of men, you haven’t received a penny from us nor will you. Oh yeah, and we have you and all the women. It sounds like you're a poor sport a—what do you types call it? A schmuck? Such funny names. In Russia, you’d just be called trash.” He shrugs like it’s the craziest thing to him and makes me chuckle.
“We’ll take good care of Victoria Franchetti too. She damn sure won’t be my cousin’s wife either. Is she your daughter or your niece? I haven’t quite figured it out yet. Regardless, we’ll have fun with her.” He presses on. Tate himself is an arrogant man at times.
The Don keeps his gaze trained forward and remains silent, ignoring us. He’s going to be a fun one to break.
I prefer him not speaking right now. My mind’s going a million miles a minute. I have a missed call from my father, and that weighs on me. He only calls if it’s important when he knows I’m busy like this.
I’m sure it has to do with Sasha, and that makes me nervous, knowing she was on her own for the first time. Well, she thought she was on her own anyhow. I know my father, and he would’ve made sure she was overly-protected since I asked him to keep a watch on her. The thoughts still have my fingers twitching with the need to dial both of their numbers though.
With all the drama and the need to be in a hurry, it makes the trip to the private airstrip seem as if it takes forever. What is it with shit taking longer when you’re in a hurry?
“Serpente di Masterson,” Franchetti mutters, practically spitting the words as he glances in my direction for a brief second.
I have a good idea of what he said; pretty sure he just called us snakes or something. I couldn’t give a fuck. I am a snake when it comes to his type of business. I hope they all suffer and I’m pleased I’ll be helping bring him to our personal type of justice.
“Zatknis’,” Viktor growls from the front, telling the Don to shut up in Russian. I guess he figures if the Don’s going to speak in Italian, he may as well speak Russian. At least that language I actually understand.
“We’re here,” he says after a minute, and I release the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding these last few moments.
“The men are on their way, they just texted,” Tate replies and my chest feels even less tight with the double dose of good news. I never would’ve been able to make it up to Finn’s mother had something happened to him during all of this.
Now we just have to get Franchetti out of here and let the men take care of the captive women. The only one we weren’t able to get our hands on was the Don Franchetti’s brother. We’ll get to him eventually; he can only hide away for so long.
We picked up Victoria Franchetti back in Russia as well. She’s on a flight to us right this moment. We won’t harm her, but she’ll be placed under supervision at Viktor’s cabin. Maybe her dear old uncle or father—whichever he is—will come out of hiding once he hears she’s with us and we can nab him next. The less of the Franchetti mob out in the world, the better it’ll be for everyone.