Submit (The Underground Book 4)

by Becca Jameson

  It would take two train changes to get to Rena’s, but she had it figured out. With each switch, she felt more confident. She was alone. She had to be.

  When she finally stepped off the last train and descended the platform, she was almost breathing normally. Except now she needed to formulate her next plan. Until that moment, she’d been operating with one singular goal—get to the destination.

  Now what?

  As she approached Rena’s townhouse, she stepped between two of the buildings and leaned against the wall in the alley. Each building had four attached two-story homes. Rena’s was the next one over.

  Belinda closed her eyes for a moment. Think.

  Should she go to the door and knock? What the hell was Yenin going to do when he got his hands on her, and how was she going to prevent him from killing Rena anyway? Her cousin had to be out of her mind scared.

  As she pushed off the wall, she turned toward the sidewalk. It wasn’t even noon yet. Yenin wasn’t expecting her for another five hours. She prayed her early arrival might give her an edge.

  But before she had a chance to finish that thought, an arm came around her from behind, nearly choking her.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but her assailant slammed his free hand over her mouth and dragged her body tightly against his. Her eyes went wide, but she couldn’t twist to the side to see the man’s face. The smell of his palm was putrid. Smoke. Dirt.

  His lips landed on her ear, and he whispered low and menacing, “You’re early, bitch. Yenin told you five.”

  So this wasn’t Yenin.

  She didn’t move. She couldn’t anyway.

  He pulled her deeper between the buildings toward the back. He was taller than her, and she had to scramble on tiptoes to avoid being literally dragged. Adrenaline raced through her blood.

  Maybe she should bite him.

  Shit.

  If she struggled, things could go badly for Rena. If she let this man take her, things could still go badly for Rena. It was a crap shoot, but Belinda had hoped to at least enter the townhouse and see her cousin alive for herself.

  The man stopped before stepping out in the open. “This is what’s going to happen, bitch. You’re going to walk nicely next to me until we get to your cousin’s apartment, and then you’re going to step inside as if you came for a visit. We clear? One wrong move and she’s dead. Got it?”

  Belinda struggled to nod. Anything to get him to release her.

  Relief washed through her when he let go and took her hand as if they were lovers. He led/dragged her toward the townhouse.

  She didn’t think there was any way in hell someone would believe they were even friends if they looked closely. She was unable to school her face to pass for anything but intense fear.

  The front door was unlocked, and the man nearly shoved Belinda inside.

  Another man stood two feet away when they entered.

  “Belinda Gallo,” he stated. “Tsk tsk.” He glanced at his watch. “You’re about five hours early. Do you not know how to tell time?”

  She ignored his taunt. “Where’s Rena?” Her voice sounded loud. Shrill.

  “Asleep. She was very tired.”

  Asleep? No fucking way that was possible. Nobody could nap after being kidnapped and held hostage. “I want to see her.” She forced herself to take in the man facing her. Tall. Skinny. Too skinny. Not an ounce of fat. Short dark hair. Buzz cut. Dark eyes, almost black. A small scar on his chin.

  She glanced at the man who’d led her to the house as he rounded to her side with his arms crossed. He stopped moving next to her, feet planted wide, eyes narrowed as if he intended to backhand her if she stepped out of line. He wasn’t as tall, but still taller than her five four. He was fit. Muscular. Blond. Tattoos peeked out of both sleeves of his worn, blue, concert T-shirt. Guns N’ Roses.

  “You’ll see her when I say you’ll see her,” the taller man announced. “Sit your ass down on the couch while I make a few calls.” He pulled a phone from his pocket and lifted it to his face, tapping the screen rapidly, his gaze returning to hers. Dark. Menacing. Evil. He worked for Yenin. Obviously. But how far was he willing to go for his boss?

  She assessed that neither of these men were Yenin. She knew him to be in his mid-forties. These two guys were both in their early thirties.

  “Yeah. Change of plans,” he stated, eyes on her as she lowered herself reluctantly onto her cousin’s floral sofa. “Bitch showed up already… Yeah… No… On it.” He ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

  “Where’s Rena?” she asked again, wanting to stall for time and needing to see her cousin alive.

  “Shut up, cunt. You’ll fucking do as I say when I say. In the meantime, stop talking.”

  She pursed her lips. It seemed prudent to do so. The last thing she wanted was an agitated pair of kidnappers. But what was their plan? She’d caught them off guard. Good. Had the taller one been talking to Yenin on the phone? Probably.

  “What’d he say?” the man who’d dragged her from between the buildings asked his partner.

  “Said to bring her in.” He turned around and grabbed a few things off the counter that led to Rena’s small kitchen. Stuffed the items in his pocket. “You get the car. We’ll meet you out the back door.”

  “’K.” The blond went back out the front door. Two seconds later, a shot rang out.

  Belinda jumped from her seat to spin around and crouch behind the sofa, her head reaching just high enough to see over the top.

  The taller man lurched behind her and grabbed her hair, tugging too hard. “Do not fucking move.” He lifted a gun toward the front door.

  Another shot was fired somewhere outside, but Belinda couldn’t tell if the shots were coming toward the townhouse or from the man who’d stepped out the door.

  Shouts.

  Screaming. A woman?

  Tall guy lifted Belinda off the floor by her hair and tugged her with him toward the front door, holding his gun in his other hand aimed at the door.

  She winced at the intense pain.

  Two more shots and then a loud thud hit the front door as if someone’s body slammed into it.

  ∙•∙

  When Nikolav pulled onto Rena’s street, the place was already swarming with cops. At least half a dozen police cars were haphazardly parked out front and several others that were undoubtedly unmarked vehicles.

  He turned off the engine several units away from Rena’s and jumped out of the SUV at the same time as Sergei on the passenger side.

  Before either of them made it more than ten feet, a man headed their way. He held up a hand. “You guys need to stay back.”

  “Like hell,” Nikolav gritted out.

  “Spoke to Taylor. Knew you were on your way here.” He pressed a hand to Nikolav’s chest.

  Nikolav nearly lost it. He grabbed the man’s hand and shoved him back several feet, meeting his gaze finally. Patrick. “Man, do not touch me right now. I’m in a mood.”

  “And you need to rein it in and calm the fuck down before you fuck up this operation.”

  Sergei set a hand on Nikolav’s shoulder. “Calm down. He’s right.”

  Nikolav shot him a glare. “Not you too.”

  Sergei squeezed his shoulder. “You want her alive. You get a grip. You don’t pull your shit together, I’ll have to punch you. And I’d hate to knock you out when we aren’t even in the cage.”

  “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  “Yeah.” Sergei’s slight smirk changed to serious. “Listen to Patrick. Please. Just listen.”

  Patrick turned around to walk closer to the scene while he spoke over his shoulder. “Here’s the situation. We know Belinda came here on the L. We also know she entered that house with a man.” He pointed at the end unit.

  Nikolav followed his line of sight, noticing the SWAT team had the house surrounded. Two of them were at the front door about to kick it in. A man was on the ground in front of the door. Dead?


  “How do you know she’s in there for sure?”

  Patrick turned to face him. “Alena followed her.”

  “Fuck,” Sergei said. “Where’s Alena now?”

  Patrick pointed to a spot across the street. “Before you freak out, she’s fine.”

  “Fine?” Nikolav’s voice rose before he could stop himself. Several officers turned around and shot him a glare. One of them marched in their direction, a scowl on his face.

  Patrick shoved Nikolav back a few feet, getting in his face. “You want to end up in a squad car?”

  Nikolav didn’t respond.

  “Didn’t think so. Lower your voice and listen to me, dammit.”

  The officer stopped advancing and turned back around, but he didn’t return to his original spot.

  Patrick continued. “Alena took a gun from Katie’s office, followed Belinda, and fired the first shot when that man emerged from the house.”

  “No shit?” Sergei asked.

  “No shit. He shot back, grazed her leg. Flesh wound. She’ll be fine. Paramedics are on their way. There’s an officer with her now.”

  Nikolav turned his gaze to the spot where he could barely make out Alena sitting on someone’s front porch across the street from Rena’s house. Alena was surrounded by bushes. He was actually impressed she had it in her to shoot someone. “Did she kill the guy on the porch?”

  “No. SWAT did. She missed.”

  “Jesus.” Nikolav ran a hand through his hair. He’d never felt this helpless. “I have to get in there.”

  “Let the cops do their job first. The last thing we need is another civilian shot.”

  Nikolav held his breath as he watched the two men at the front door inch closer. One of them held up three fingers and lowered them one at a time.

  ∙•∙

  Belinda tried to remain calm. She was unable to move with the tall guy holding her by the hair. If he pulled any harder, he would scalp her.

  Suddenly in a loud bang, the front door flew open.

  The tall man took two steps back, lugged Belinda up against his front, and turned the gun toward her temple.

  She didn’t dare move or breathe. All she could do was grab for his forearm to hold on. Her toes hardly touched the floor, and her head hurt everywhere from being yanked against him by the hair.

  At least he was no longer holding her hair.

  “One step closer and she’s dead,” the guy told the two members of SWAT. He continued backing up.

  “This isn’t going to end well for you if you shoot her,” the man on the right stated, his gun aimed at her assailant’s head. “Release her and you’ll serve a much shorter sentence. You try to move another inch, and you’re dead. I don’t miss.”

  Why don’t you shoot him already, then?

  How trigger happy was this guy at her temple? She didn’t dare even take a deep breath for fear of finding out.

  His gun pressed harder. “Or, you two back the fuck out of here in order to save this bitch. Because if you even think of shooting me, she’s dead.”

  Was that true? Was it possible? Could he still pull the trigger after the police shot him in the skull?

  She tried to lower her head and tip it to one side to give the SWAT member a better shot. Please, God. Please.

  The SWAT guy inched closer.

  The tall man backed up, squeezing her neck tighter. Soon she would be lacking oxygen. She swallowed as hard as she could, trying to ensure she had a clear airway.

  Where was Rena? Was she even alive somewhere in the house? Why wasn’t she screaming or coming out from somewhere? The thought scared Belinda to death.

  Two more men appeared behind the first two in the doorway. Sirens sounded in the distance. Several of them. They grew louder.

  “You can’t get out of this,” the officer stated, his gaze trained on her captor. He steadied his gun.

  For the first time, she noticed the other man’s gun was also raised toward the guy holding her.

  “Man, you do not want to do this,” said one of the newcomers. “Let the woman go.”

  Belinda panicked. What if this asshole didn’t value his own life? What if he decided it was better to take her out? Then again, he was a hired kidnapper. He hadn’t signed up for this.

  “Whoever you’re working for isn’t paying you enough to die, dude.” She didn’t even know who said that.

  She was too focused on figuring out how to stay alive. What if she went limp? Could she slide down his body, giving the police an opportunity to shoot?

  His grip seemed too tight. Could she bite him? His arm was too far under her neck. Shit.

  There was nothing she could do.

  And it didn’t matter because one second later a gun went off, and the man instantly released her.

  She screamed, ducking as fast as she could and then scrambling on all fours to get as far away from the man as possible. Was he dead?

  The SWAT team rushed forward, guns drawn, but when she turned around, crab-crawling backward, she found her assailant completely still on the floor.

  One man reached for a pulse. “Dead.”

  Two men turned to face her. “You okay, ma’am?”

  “Yes,” she mumbled. “My cousin.” Her gaze went toward the stairs next to the front door. Surely she was upstairs. Please make her be alive.

  The fourth man turned and took the stairs two at a time.

  Two more officers entered the house, guns drawn.

  One man spoke into a mic at his shoulder. “Downstairs clear.”

  A shout from upstairs indicated the same was true for that level.

  But Rena? “My cousin…” she repeated.

  A man crouched next to her. “Hang tight.”

  Two more officers ran up the stairs as a paramedic entered the house.

  More sirens. Or maybe they’d been going off the entire time and she’d been unable to focus on them.

  And then Nikolav.

  Shit.

  His gaze was frantic as it darted around the room before landing on her. In two long, quick strides, he was at her side. “Jesus, Belinda.” His voice was low. She wasn’t sure if he was furious with her or simply scared out of his mind. Probably both. He grabbed her shoulders, squaring her in front of him while his gaze roamed up and down her body.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” His voice rose. And then he pursed his lips. Yeah, he was pissed.

  An officer returned from upstairs. His gaze met Belinda’s. “One female upstairs. Alive. Non-responsive. No obvious injuries. Presumed drugged.”

  Thank God. Right? That was a good thing, right?

  Belinda fought to get up, but Nikolav stopped her, his hands on her biceps holding her to the floor.

  The officer at her other side spoke again. “Let the paramedics handle it. They need space.”

  She nodded and let her shoulders slump, shrugging free of Nikolav. “Let go,” she mumbled. She wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t trust her legs to hold her upright. He eased his grip and lowered his hands down her arms. She tugged free of him, pulled her knees in, wrapped her arms around them, and lowered her chin to rest on them.

  She needed oxygen. Space. Not a lecture.

  Deep breaths. She’d done the right thing. She knew it. Taylor would have a fit. Nikolav would probably make good on his threat to spank her ass. But she didn’t care. She was alive. Rena was alive. The bad guys were not.

  Right?

  She lifted her head. “The other man. The one outside?”

  “Your friend shot at him,” the officer stated. “Her aim wasn’t too good, though. I helped out a bit.”

  “My friend?” Belinda stiffened.

  The guy narrowed his gaze. “Yes. The blonde woman.”

  Blonde woman? No. “Alena?”

  He nodded. “Alena Dudko I think she said her name was.”

  Nikolav interrupted. “You mean you didn’t know she was with you?”

  Belinda shook her head. “No. Shit. Sh
e must have followed me.”

  “Apparently.” His face went completely blank for a second before he continued. “She also got shot. Not life threatening,” he rushed to add.

  “What?” Belinda pushed to standing in a heartbeat, intent on rushing from the house to find Alena.

  Nikolav stood next to her. He grabbed her arm gently and pulled her slowly into his embrace until her cheek was plastered to his chest but she faced the front of the house. “Already on her way to the hospital.”

  “Jesus.” This cannot be happening.

  A man in civilian clothes entered the house, his gaze scanning the room until he spotted Belinda. She recognized him as FBI. Patrick. He’d driven her and Nikolav away from the bombing. He’d also escorted her to her apartment once. He’d been nice. Surely he wasn’t working for Yenin. Although it was impossible to suspect any of the agents she’d met. The mole didn’t have to be any one of them. It could easily be a man on their detail she’d never spoken to. There were dozens.

  Please, God, don’t let someone I’ve had a conversation with turn out to be stabbing me in the back. Please.

  She shuddered. Who the hell was she supposed to trust? Right that minute she trusted no one. Except Nikolav. He shifted her to his side, but held on to her firmly. Giving her support. Maybe even keeping her from collapsing—both mentally and physically.

  “Are you injured, ma’am?” Patrick asked as he approached.

  She shook her head. “No. Just shook up.”

  “Okay, I’m going to take you to a safe house for now.”

  “What?” She twisted to glance at Nikolav, who looked just as confused, and then back to face Patrick. “No. I need to see Rena first. And then go to the hospital. Alena… She…” Her mind raced.

  “Your friend is going to be fine. The bullet just grazed her leg. And you can see your cousin for a few seconds, but we need to move you before anyone else figures out where you are.”

  Belinda nodded as several men descended the stairs with a stretcher, working hard to keep it level as they lowered Rena to the first floor. Belinda wiggled free of Nikolav, rushed forward, and got to Rena’s side as the paramedics lowered the wheels. She looked pale. Asleep, though.

  Belinda reached up with a shaky hand to touch Rena’s face. Warm. Alive. Shallow breaths. “You think she was drugged?”