Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“You mean I breached it. But women mean nothing, so my po—father is to blame?” Ugh, I couldn’t even use the affectionate name I had for Pop in front of this man. It would be another infraction against me. This group doubted I was Russian enough. Why did they want me?
“Natasha, Edik is here. They are all here. I waited for the Scot to leave out of respect for your … affection for him. I saw it in your eyes when you climbed onto the bike he’d rigged.” The muscle in his jaw kicked. “Do not misconstrue my tolerance.”
This wasn’t happening. My heart slammed into my throat, choking my retort. “Don’t touch—”
He moved like a shadow—sudden, silent, inescapable.
A crushing bear hug pinned my arms to my sides. “No! Stop!” My voice came out ragged. I kicked hard. Toes connected, but he didn’t even grunt. The orders behind his grip scared him more than I ever could.
My teeth sank into his shoulder. Salt and sweat filled my mouth. Without flinching, he hauled me to the window.
The freezing air slapped me as we hit the fire escape. My body pitched forward, the cement yawning below. For one breathless second, I thought he’d let me fall headfirst. Arms cinched my waist, yanking me back in line. The man climbed down the ladder.
I screamed, thrashed, and pummeled his back with every bit of strength I had. Faces turned toward us. People watched.
Watched.
How could they do nothing?
Halfway across the street, I saw movement above. Broad shoulders framed the window.
“Lachlan!” My voice cracked his name.
The van’s back door burst open. The man tugged me into the seatless rear of it. A machine gun glinted to my side.
Lachlan’s voice ripped through the air—raw, furious, and every shade of protective I’d ever known in him. The words, his promise to save me, burned into me.
Bullets sprayed into the street, shattering the morning air. I dove for the gunner, swinging hard, but my captor yanked me into his steel grip.
My life narrowed to one awful truth: My life ended the second they found me. I’d made love to Lachlan countless times last night. Now, I’d marry Edik Mikhailov. And after experiencing true love … death sounded more promising.
52
VASSILI
Dundee
Weak. So weak.
Lachlan clawed at Simeon’s forearm. “Wait. Wa—” he begged.
I turned away as Simeon lifted the gun, glaring at the dilapidated flats where my men should’ve escorted my daughter from.
My phone rang. Lev Mikhailov.
“Hold on,” I growled, not wanting my colleague to hear gunfire in the background. “Da?”
“Vassili,” Lev said, “we must meet at once, old friend. It’s a critical matter.”
My eyes rolled. “Where?” Alright, I’d pop Lachlan and head for Russ—
“I’m here, in Aberdeen. Bieldside. Your daughter is safe.” The call disconnected. Proklyatiya! Every small act was a power move. Grounding my molars together, I read the text message that popped up seconds later. An address. I turned around. Simeon glared at me as if the genius had the insight to question words I hadn’t spoken yet.
“Get up,” I ordered.
“I should have pulled the trigger while that call distracted you,” Simeon growled, snatching Lachlan up by the bicep. “Who was that?”
“The Mikhailovs. They have Natasha.”
I thrust Lachlan toward the enforcer. The Scot didn’t bend. We had bruised him. Still, no stumbling. No cowering. He stood, hands crumpled in his hair, eyes hollow as if his fate baffled him. Lachlan asked, “Where is she?”
“Not with Lorenzo,” I chuckled. Still, the name rolled in my mind again, heavy as iron. Still nothing.
The enforcer slapped duct tape over Lachlan’s mouth.
Simeon stepped close, voice dropping into a growl. “Are they aware of Natasha’s association with these MacKenzies?”
“Da.” I turned toward my man. “Take us to this address. Keep him company. Unless we need him.”
“We do.” Simeon shoved into my face, the heat of his breath sharp with vodka. Behind him, the lieutenant cinched a zip tie around Lachlan’s wrists. The Scot hissed.
“We’ll feed Lachlan to the Mikhailovs.” Simeon wiped his hands. Casual, cold, as if my brother’s fingers bore the blood of those who’d kept him from his childhood love, Anastasiya. “We restore our relationship with our brat’ya, Vassili.”
“Nyet.” I snapped my gaze to his. My brother’s eyes narrowed, but I did not flinch. “I always had a strategy. Remove our daughters from these marriages. They own most of the KGB. They just need a little more. We give them that hand.”
“Asya—”
“Anastasiya is not aware of the contract. Neither of our wives are! Simona is.” My niece’s name thickened in my throat. Suddenly, she was a young girl again. She came to me, tiny, with tear-streaked cheeks. She’d whispered secrets she had no business carrying and begged me to fix them. Secrets her father stood in the center of. My palms had brushed her wet cheeks, and I swore I would handle it. Even pinkie-swore, like I’d presumed Natasha taught her.