Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sasha
“We’ve got company,” the man driving the car observes.
His eyes keep flicking to the rearview mirror, and a seed of hope blooms inside of me.
Ronan.
It has to be him. I have to believe that Ronan has come for us. That he isn’t going to let me die like this. Let our baby die.
The man beside me picks up his phone and makes a call, muttering a quick string of indecipherable words. He’s short-tempered, and the voice on the other end of the line sounds even more so. There’s a tiny farmhouse up ahead, which I suspect is where they’re taking me. There’s only one dirt road out of here, and we’re on it.
Which means that whoever is behind us has got us trapped.
The men in the front seat speak in rapid fire Russian while I try to crane my neck and get a look at the car behind us. It’s too dusty though, and the minute I turn, the man beside me grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back around.
He yells something into my face, which I don’t understand, but I get his meaning clear enough. I curl into myself and mentally try to prepare for whatever is about to happen. Up ahead, the windows on the farm house are open, and the barrels of two rifles are poking out.
The driver guns the engine without warning and sends us careening around the corner of the house and towards the back. The car has barely come to a stop when someone’s yanking me out and dragging me inside.
I don’t resist, but it still doesn’t stop him from hurling me onto the floor once we’re inside. I crawl under a table and not a moment too soon.
Another spurt of gunfire erupts around us, tearing through the glass and walls of the farmhouse. I can’t see into the living room, but I know there are at least three other men in there. In addition to the three who brought me here that makes six. If Ronan is outside, I have to wonder what kind of backup he has.
As I’m questioning it, something thuds on the back porch where we just entered, followed by a crash of shards from the window above the sink. Something wizzes over the table where I’m hiding and hits one of the men in the head. It all happens so fast that during the time it takes me to blink, he’s on the floor with his face half gone.
My hand flies to my mouth and I have to fight the urge to retch. Jesus. How many times have I been in situations like this now? This is exactly why I didn’t want this life. I don’t know how I seem to have forgotten that in my time with Ronan. Now I have a baby to think about too. And no way do I want my kid growing up around this kind of shit.
Another bullet flies through the window and takes out a different guy. His body makes an awful sound as it hits the floor and I can’t bring myself to look at it. I close my eyes and count to ten, and in that ten seconds there’s another thud.
And then someone is grabbing me, dragging me out from beneath the table and holding my body in front of his. He’s yelling something out in Russian when the back door flies open.
There’s still gunfire coming from the front, but my eyes are focused on the formidable figure standing in the doorway. Chocolate brown eyes meet mine, and my lungs fill with some much needed air. It doesn’t matter what else is happening around me, the one thing I know for certain is everything’s okay now. He’s here, and I’ll be okay. Because Ronan always saves me.
He says something in Russian to the man holding me, to which my captor replies. I’m surprised at Ronan’s grasp on the language, though I shouldn’t be. He never does anything half-assed, this man. Ronan’s gaze meets mine as he raises his gun, and I know he’s silently telling me not to be afraid.
I should be. I should be feeling something. But I’m frozen. Numb. In shock, I think. The man behind me raises his knife to my throat.
Ronan moves forward on instinct, but pauses when the blade digs into my skin.
“Andrei.”
The way Ronan says his name is a threat all its own. His voice is deadly and calm. His body is too. This is what he was trained for. But even I can’t miss the warring rage and fear in his dark eyes. If there was ever a question about how he felt for me, it’s unmistakable right now.
“You have such a pretty little whore my friend.” Andrei drags the tip of the knife down my neck. “Such a shame I could not spend more time with her. This skin, I have a feeling it would look so lovely flayed wide open.”
Ronan speaks to him in Russian again. His voice has lost the calm resolve he displayed only moments ago. The rage is taking over. Turning him. And I know it’s only a matter of time before he goes ballistic like he did with Blaine. Only this time, the guy behind me has at least one knife, and I suspect by the sharp object digging into my back, possibly two. He’s using me as a shield and I have no idea how Ronan’s going to disarm him.
Right about now I’m really wishing that I’d asked Mack to teach me some of that crazy shit she’s always doing to defend herself.
“Shall I take her for a little test drive?” Andrei asks. “Just a few slices. You know they say that all blood is the same color once it meets oxygen, but I don’t think that’s true. So many shades of crimson. You would agree with me, yes?”
Ronan lunges forward, and the man drags me back further, cutting off my air supply as his arm snakes around my neck. He turns the knife in Ronan’s direction and waves it back and forth in a disapproving gesture.
“C’mon, my friend. You must know better than this by now. I’ve heard so many tales about you. The great Reaper of Boston. Men quake in his presence I am told. And yet here you are, completely helpless as I hold your treasure in my arms.”
“She is mine,” Ronan snarls.
His eyes are moving over every possible angle, searching for weaknesses and assessing the situation. I can literally see him being split in two. He’s fighting the urge to be the man he was created to be and the man who I’ve slowly gotten to know. The cold blooded killer in him would take the shot without fear of hitting me. But the man who has laid beside me in bed, fought off his demons in my presence, and spent every moment he could inside of me is holding back.
Before he can come to any sort of a decision, the knife in Andrei’s hand slices down my chest in a sharp shock of pain. My mouth opens and the faintest sound spills from my lips as I glance down to see blood dripping from the long gash.
Ronan’s lunging towards us again, but Andrei was prepared for this. The sharp object has disappeared from my back. And before I have time to scream or warn him, the second knife is sailing through the air and into Ronan’s stomach.
A shot goes off, and I have no idea where it came from. But the heavy weight around me falls away, and I turn around to check. That’s when I see Scarlett standing there, wielding a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. She’s completely unhinged, her eyes dark and filled with a thirst for bloodlust. I know because I’ve seen that same look on Ronan’s face many times before.
Andrei is lying on the floor, bleeding from the leg. Scarlett moves closer and stares down at him with a smile on her face that scares me a little. But the reason is stamped in her eyes for all to see. This is the man who hurt her too.
She kneels beside him, digging the tip of her knife into his cheek and dragging it over his face.
“You’re not the only one who likes to play with knives.” Her eyes flick down to his leg wound. “But I guess you bleed red just like everyone else.”
It’s obvious what she’s going to do. What she wants to do. And I can’t handle watching it. I spin back around and run towards Ronan, who is leaning against the wall for support. His eyes are glued to the scene before him, and the man I thought could never be shocked finally is. His face is awash with bewilderment as he watches Scarlett carve up the man on the floor behind me. He’s clutching at his wound, and I’m afraid to get a good look at it. Because I don’t want to see. I don’t want to see Ronan hurt, or worse. I can’t handle that.
I whisper his name, and his attention moves to me, some of the haziness disappearing from his eyes. Tears are leaking down my face, and I’m sniffling. I just keep repeating his name, staring at his blood soaked shirt. Fingers graze my cheek, and then I hear the sweetest sound in the world. His voice.
“Shhh,” he whispers. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
And just like that, I forget everything else for a second. He pulls me closer and kisses my forehead, untangling the mess of hair around my face.
“Sasha.”
My name sounds like a revelation on his lips. His palm moves to the cut on my chest and he smears some of the blood onto his skin, which serves to strengthen his resolve. He kisses me twice more before pulling away. I grab onto the lapels of his suit because I know what he’s doing. I don’t want him to go kill that man Scarlett’s hurting. I don’t want him to go anywhere.
“Ronan.”
My hand is wet, and when I look down, it’s covered in his blood. It’s getting worse. And it’s too much.
“We need to go.”
I can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.
“I have business with Andrei,” he argues.
His words are firm, but his body is weak. Fortitude isn’t going to win out this time. He wants to kill the man who hurt me. And maybe a part of me wants that too. But right now, his bleeding wound takes precedence.
“Ronan, I need you,” I tell him. “Our baby needs you. Okay? That’s all that matters. And if we don’t get you into the car right this minute…”
“She’s right,” a voice interrupts from behind me.
I turn to find Rory standing there, his eyes fixed on Ronan’s blood soaked shirt.
“Get in the car, Fitz. I’ll finish off Andrei.”
Ronan shakes his head, stubborn as ever. “He’s mine. I’ll be the one to finish him.”
All of our eyes move to the man in question, who Scarlett has done quite a number on already. His face and arms and chest are all covered in cuts now, and she’s holding the knife to his throat.
“I’m going to finish him,” she announces.
Rory shakes his head and yanks her up to her feet without an ounce of finesse. She tries to shove him away, but he holds her steady and kicks Andrei in the face when he moans.
“I won’t allow ye to have that on your conscience,” he says to her. “No matter how tough you think ye are Scarlett. I will not abide by it.”
His voice is hard. Harder than I’ve ever known it to be. And Scarlett is looking up at him with glassy eyes. I don’t know what’s going on between these two, but Rory’s words affect her. She listens to him, her shoulders falling in defeat. Then she glances back at Ronan, and she gives him a little nod.
“He’s all yours.”
“I’ll put him in the boot,” Rory offers, as if this is totally normal. “You’ll have all the time ye like with him later. Just get your arse in the car.”
Ronan tries to take a step towards the stairs, but his balance is off and he has to cling to the wall. I wrap an arm around his waist and turn back towards Rory.
“I’ll need help getting him in the car.”
Rory nods, and then he’s bolting over to help, but Ronan’s still staring at Andrei.
“Ronan.” I grab his face and pull his attention back to me. “You can deal with it later, okay? Let’s get in the car.”
“He tried to hurt you,” he says again. “Ye’re mine.”
“I am,” I agree. “And I need you to stick around. For a really long time, okay? Because I can’t do this without you.”
I try to get him to move forward, but he stops us. I think he’s going to argue again, but instead he kisses me. It’s rough and possessive. When his lips fall away, his face is as earnest as I’ve ever seen it.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Because I love you, Sasha.”
My eyes clog up with tears, and I’m nodding like crazy because I’m too choked up to speak. Finally, I get myself under control enough to tell him what I’ve been dying to for the last three years.
“I love you too, Ronan. I think I always have.”