44
Wren
Almost there. I tune everything out, my focus on the screen in front of me. And the progress bar creeping along at a snail’s pace. Eighty-five percent. Eighty-six. Eighty-seven.
“Please, please, please…” I’m a cliché again, but I don’t care. Another few seconds and we’ll have comms, and by then…maybe West will be back for me.
Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.
Kolya’s encryption falls away, and I scramble for a terminal window, starting the shut-down process. The machine throws up another password prompt, and my heart seizes in my chest. No.
Get it together, Firefly.
I can almost hear Z urging me on, and his voice in my head helps calm me down. Digging into my bag of tricks—all the data I stole from him over the course of the past two days—I let my password cracker go to work.
“Cyka!” The growl from behind me turns my blood to ice in my veins. Blondie. His hand wraps around my hair, yanking me to my feet and hauling me against him. “Boss will be very happy to see you again.”
“Let…me…go,” I scream and try to elbow him in the ribs, but he spins me around and shoves me into the wall hard enough to daze me. I crumple to the ground, and before I can get my legs under me, he grabs my wrists in one beefy hand and slides a zip tie around them with the other. The plastic bites into my skin—hard, and I cry out, feeling my life slip away with every pulse of pain. I can’t survive Kolya again.
Blondie grabs the tablet and thrusts it into my bag, loops the long strap over my head and around my neck, and uses it like a leash. “We go see boss now. You fight me, and maybe I do what he could not.” His cold, blue eyes bore into me, and nausea churns in my belly.
If Kolya gets his hands on me, he’ll do what he couldn’t back in his bedroom. He’ll destroy me. I’ll never be…me again. I won’t have Ryker. Won’t care either. A sob wells in my throat, but the strap digs into my neck and burns, and the sound comes out closer to a squeak as Blondie yanks—hard—and I almost go down.
“You want me to teach you lesson now? I can do that.”
“N-no…Kolya,” I say, my voice barely audible, “can make me…feel good.”
It’ll be better…won’t it? If he brings me back to Kolya rather than destroy everything I am here? Now? Kolya wants me docile. Wants me dependent. Maybe he’ll take the pain away first. Blondie won’t give me that.
Hold onto something real.
Ryker’s real. But…is he even still alive? Wheezing breaths scrape over my throat, and the walls start to spin and tilt around me. Tears burn my cheeks as Blondie drags me into the elevator and punches the button for the fourth floor. Twisting my hands, I use the pain to keep me focused, try to feel my pulse under the plastic, count the beats.
We reach the top floor in what feels like record time, and then the strap around my neck tightens again as he drags me to Kolya’s office. It’s empty, and with a kick to the back of my knees, Blondie sends me to the floor. The tablet slides free from my bag, but the woven black strap is still tight around my neck. “Do not move,” he orders me and presses his boot to my back, pinning me to the floor. My hands are trapped under my body, I can barely breathe, but the tablet flickers to life as Blondie reaches for something on the desk, and the fire alarm finally falls blessedly silent.
Da | Net | Otemy
Yes | No | Cancel
The password cracker finished. If I can tap yes, I can bring the whole system down.
I force my body to go slack. If Blondie doesn’t think I’m a threat, maybe he’ll take his foot off my back. No longer fighting the tears that threaten to consume me, I sob quietly as the crackle of a walkie-talkie pierces the air.
“Boss. I have the girl. The redhead. Zion’s bitch sister. We are in your office.”
“Khorosho.” Kolya’s voice—full of self-satisfaction—sends a chill down my spine. “I think she will watch the big man die.”
Ryker. Oh God. He has Ry.
“If I am not there in five minutes, kill her.”
“Da.” Blondie’s foot lifts off my spine, and he kneels down so his lips are close to my ear. “Anything happens to boss, we have a little fun before I snap your neck.”
I cry harder and curl into a ball. My tears are real. Panic’s cruel fingers snake around my heart, digging in, squeezing so hard, I’m terrified I won’t be able to breathe—let alone move—much longer.
Just…hold it together…another…five…minutes.
Sneaking a glance at Blondie, leaning against the desk with his gun in his hand, I inch my fingers forward. The tablet is half hidden by my bag, and I manage to touch the edge just as the office door opens.
“Wren!” Ryker’s voice cracks, and Kolya slams the pistol against his head, driving him to his knees.
“Secure his hands,” Kolya barks at Blondie, his gun pressed to Ryker’s temple. Blood streams from Ryker’s shoulder, and…oh God…drips down his left arm.
As Blondie crosses between us, I slide the tablet closer. I just need to see the screen for a second…long enough to touch the right answer. Yes. If I’m not careful, I’ll hit no or cancel and then…my life, Ryker’s life…they’ll end right here. On plush carpet, surrounded by lavish walls and eighteenth-century antique furniture.
“I’m so…sorry…” I gasp as I hold Ry’s gaze. True fear swims in the varied colors of his eyes. “I had to…try…”
“Wren, baby. Don’t look. Close your eyes.” With both Blondie and Kolya pointing guns at his head, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. “Hold on…to something real. Us. We were real. I love you. Always. You saved me.”
Kolya cocks his gun. “Say goodbye, sweet Red.”
“You fucking bastard!” I scream, and my outburst startles everyone. Rearing up, I pray I don’t miss as my finger comes down on the button that just might save our lives.
With a single beep from the tablet, all the lights go out.
45
Ryker
I see the tablet a second before everything goes dark, and I barrel roll into Blondie, sending him crumpling over me. With my hands bound, I have little leverage, but I grab his black jacket and try to throw him in Kolya’s general direction. But the henchman lands just short, and Kolya sidesteps him with ease, springing for Wren.
“Move!” I yell, and in the diffuse glow from the French doors, I see Wren try to scramble up. And then Kolya reaches her side, twisting the strap of her bag around her neck and hauling her up against him. “Let her go, fuckwad.”
He aims his gun at my head, Wren gasping for breath as she claws at the thick nylon choking her. “You lose, big man. She is mine.”
“Not…yours,” she wheezes and jerks, slamming her bound hands into Kolya’s crotch. The Russian yelps and doubles over, and Wren’s elbow connects with his nose. He jerks the strap around her neck, and her helpless choking sends pure rage flooding through my veins. With a roar, I yank my arms as hard as I can, the plastic digging into my skin, more blood slicking my hands until the zip tie snaps in two.
Behind me, Blondie staggers to his feet, but I have eyes only for Kolya. He’ll die for hurting her. Tucking and rolling, I wrap my legs around his ankles and pull. A hoarse cry escapes Wren’s lips, and then all hell breaks loose.
A door slams. Something crashes into my temple—the butt of Kolya’s gun, I think—and I see stars. No. That’s muzzle flare. Shouts in Russian don’t make any sense, and then Kolya’s under me, his fingers digging into the bullet wound in my shoulder as I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze. He chokes, desperately clawing at my fingers, his eyes bulging. Lifting him two inches off the ground, I slam him back down again, his head landing with a satisfying—and sickening—crack.
“Ry!”
West.
“Let him go, Ry. It’s over. He’s bleeding out.” Strong hands help me up, and West’s concerned face swims in and out of focus for a few seconds until I get my bearings and shake off his hold. “You good?”
“Yeah.”<
br />
Inara stands over a dead Blondie, her gun trained on Kolya as he tries to stop blood pouring from his stomach. It’s hopeless. The stain on his white shirt is almost black. The shot caught him in the liver, and he has minutes at most.
West pulls his multi-tool from his belt and turns to Wren, sitting on the floor, still wheezing, frantically trying to unwind the strap from her neck and staring off into nothing. “She’s panicking, Ry. Calm her down while I get this fucking thing off her.”
“Wren, baby. Look at me.” I cup her cheeks, brushing her tears away with my thumbs, then cursing under my breath as I smear blood across her pale skin. “Dammit.” Wiping my hand on my pants, I lean closer, ghosting my lips over hers. “Wren. Take a deep breath for me.”
“C-can’t,” she stutters. West unwinds the strap from her neck, and I stroke the bruised and abraded skin.
“Yes, you can.” Gently, I press her fingers to my carotid artery. “Feel my heartbeat.” I mirror her position, breathing slowly, audibly, until she stops shaking and her eyes start to focus. “There you are.”
A quiet sob escapes her lips, and she tries to peer around me. “Is he…”
“Almost,” Inara mutters. “He’s going to have a very painful last few minutes.” West snaps the zip tie around Wren’s wrists, then heads for the French doors.
“Where are the girls?” I ask as I pull Wren into my arms, ignoring the burning pain shooting through my shoulder.
“In the car with Semyon.” West angles a glance down at the square. “As soon as we got them to the vehicle, we headed back in. We were almost to the third floor when the lights went out. The police are on the way. If we don’t want a whole lot of trouble, we need to get the fuck out of here.”
I struggle to my feet, keeping Wren tucked against my side. “Can you walk, sweetheart?”
She nods vigorously, her red curls bouncing. She’s still half-panicky, but her voice is stronger now, and her gaze doesn’t leave Kolya as I guide her towards the door. “Y-yes.”
I spare the Russian a quick look, and the truth registers in his eyes. He knows he’s dead. His mouth opens and closes, but he can only gurgle weakly.
Returning my focus to Wren, I whisper, “He’ll never hurt you again, baby. We’re going home.”
I called in a favor once we landed in Moscow, and two hours later, a former Special Forces instructor met us at a private terminal with a van to take the girls somewhere safe. He’ll arrange for new papers and good jobs once they have a few weeks to recover from being starved and beaten by Kolya and his men.
The sun is setting as we land at a military airfield outside Boston. The headsets protecting our hearing made it hard for me to be as close to Wren as I wanted on the flight, and the uncomfortable jump seats allowed only piss-poor rest, but we both fell asleep halfway over the Atlantic with my good arm slung around her shoulders. West dug out the bullet while we waited for my buddy, gave me a shot of antibiotics, and stitched me up. Thank God no one else was seriously hurt.
Inara and West deplane first, followed by Semyon and Elena. The brother and sister hold onto one another and blink up at the red and orange sky.
“Time to go, baby,” I say as I help Wren to her feet. She’s barely said ten words to me since we left Kolya’s mansion, and I can’t stand the silence between us. She moves stiffly—we all do—but as soon as she catches sight of our welcoming committee, she lets out a sob.
Dax and Ford stand with their backs to the setting sun, and Pixel bounces around at their feet, her little tail whipping around fast enough it’s just a blur of white. Two SUVs idle nearby, one with a uniformed driver behind the wheel.
“Pixel. You brought Pixel,” Wren whispers as she drops to her knees in front of the men. The little dog wriggles in her arms, and she buries her face in the soft fur.
Ford offers me a firm handshake and gestures for me to follow him—and Dax—while Inara wraps an arm around Wren’s shoulders and murmurs to her quietly.
Out of earshot, Ford shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re all set up at the Fairmont again under a fresh ID and clean credit card. Figured you’d all need a couple of days, so we arranged for a flight to Seattle for you and your team on Thursday.”
“Wren, too,” Dax adds. “Until we can guarantee the Roxbury arm of Kolya’s organization withers and dies without him, she’s safer out of Boston.”
I stare at her, Pixel in her arms, Inara leading her over to one of the SUVs. This is her home. Where her brother lived…and died. How can I ask her to leave? “It has to be her choice.”
Raking a frustrated hand through his tousled locks, Dax half-growls, “There is no choice. She’s not safe here right now, and you can protect her.”
“I’d die for her.” Both men wear twin expressions of shock. “I love her. I want a life with her. Fuck. I want the rest of my life with her. But you know her well enough to understand she’s never going to let us tell her she has to do anything.”
With a chuckle, Ford shakes his head. “You’re right. But…maybe strongly suggest she at least go out to Seattle for a little vacation?”
“That I can do.” We shake again, and he heads over to the driverless SUV. The one with Elena and Semyon in back.
Staring at Dax, I try to find the words to thank him for everything he did for us. All of our gear—except for Wren’s laptop and tablet—he had delivered to the hotel. He handled all of the logistics for our return trip, coordinated with the proper border security agencies, and kept the shit at the mansion out of the papers. “I…owe you.”
“You do. Maybe…” He takes off his tinted glasses and rubs his eyes. When he raises his head, I’d swear he can see into my soul. “Maybe you could give me a call sometime. To…uh…catch up.”
If he lays me out flat, it’ll still be worth it. I lean in and clasp him in a tight, quick hug. But he doesn’t protest, instead returning the gesture and clearing his throat. Probably has a lump in it the size of mine, if I know him at all. And maybe…I still do a little.
“I promise.” My voice cracks, and I release him.
“Those words…Wren’s right. No one should ever say them if they don’t mean them.” Dax reaches into his jacket pocket for his cane, unfolds it, and concentrates for a moment before pointing himself directly at Ford’s SUV.
Squeezing his shoulder before he can take a step, I force the lump away and blow out a breath. “I’ll call. You’re…family, Dax. And family keeps their promises.”
He blinks hard, and I think I see a slight glisten to his pale, sightless eyes. “Hooah.”
Waving the keycard over the hotel room door, I try to calm my nerves. We're alone...finally. Except for the dog, who passed the forty-minute drive stretched across both of our laps. Wren only asked one question after I slid into the back seat of the SUV next to her.
"Are we going to my apartment?"
"No, baby. Tonight, we're going to the Fairmont."
She settled then, twining our fingers and resting her head against my arm.
"Are you hungry?" I drop my duffel and her bag in the corner, set the deadbolt, and wedge the desk chair under the knob. "I can order...whatever you want." Fuck. I don't even know what she likes to eat.
"I..." She stares down at her sweater, caked with dried blood, and wrinkles her nose. "I want a shower."
Settling Pixel on the little dog bed, she shuffles off to the bathroom, but doesn't shut the door. Am I supposed to go with her? I hope I am, because I need her like I need my next breath.
Stopping short when I reach the threshold, I find her staring into the mirror.
With morbid fascination, she touches the red burns around her neck. Next, she pulls up her sleeves, wincing when she brushes the zip tie welts on her wrists.
"Wren. Look at me." Her tiny gasp is barely audible, but I feel it as I press against her back. "You're okay. We're both...okay."
"Are we?" She pulls up my shirt, and once the bloodstained wool falls to the floor, she skims her fingers a
round the edges of the bandage over my latest bullet wound.
"I'll heal. Always do." Reaching into the shower, I twist the knob, and once steam starts filling the room, I carefully slide her sweater over her head, then unhook her bra.
"What do we do now?" Wren wriggles out of her pants and stares up at me. Her lower lip wobbles, but she doesn't cry.
"Shower. Eat. Sleep." I run my knuckles along her cheekbone. "Make love in an actual bed?"
Her laugh soothes all my rough edges. "Oh, come on. Those were awesome sleeping bags."
"Only the best for you, sweetheart."
The water runs red at our feet for too long, but I wash her hair, and she moans softly as I massage her scalp. "What...happened here?" she asks, pressing a kiss to the deep purple bruise just above my heart.
"That's what happens when you take a shot to body armor."
"Is this...are you...?"
Fuck. She was right. I know exactly what she's thinking, and fear takes over, sharpening my tone. "This is who I am, Wren. Running Hidden Agenda. Helping people. I don't know how to do anything else."
"I don't want you to stop." Pressing her naked body to mine, she slides her hands down to cup my ass. "Just...don't hide anything from me."
"Nothing. Ever. I pro—"
"Ry." She stops me with a finger to my lips. "You know what those words mean to me."
Cupping the back of her neck, I pull her in for a slow, deep kiss that sends my cock to attention and leaves her panting. "I do, sweetheart. And I promise. No secrets. Ever again."
Room service delivers burgers and fries, along with two icy cold bottles of beer. We eat in bed, wrapped in the hotel’s plush robes, with Pixel racing between the two of us, begging shamelessly. Wren tears off a piece of fry every few minutes and indulges the dog. I want to ask her about Seattle. About coming home with me. But I’m afraid if I do, this warm, comfortable bubble we’re in will burst.
On His Six Page 25
