Page 16

CHAPTER 16

Sabrina

I should have taken the damn phone with me.

But Elena was fussy because she’s teething and I’d been so distracted trying to calm her down that I left my purse in the closet. Which is where my phone still is. Probably vibrating uselessly, I'm sure. Sam told me the panic room he installed was soundproof, that nothing gets in or out. But I still feel every crash, every thud, through the floor. Including the one I just heard slam right into the false wall. My heart seizes.

Please, please let them think it's just a panel in the wall.

I press Elena tighter to my chest, my arm a shield across her little body. She’s asleep for now, cheeks flushed pink from the heat and the tiny tooth trying to push through her gum. The baby earmuffs I slipped over her head are still in place. Sam swore nothing would get through them. But I’m not sure I believe that anymore. I’m not sure I believe anything right now.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I rock back slightly and breathe through the panic clawing its way up my throat. I hate this space. It’s small, dark, and barely bigger than a broom closet. Even with the ventilation fans Sam installed, the air feels too thin. Like I'm inhaling dread.

I reach for the tiny rocking chair Sam wedged in here for moments just like this, gently lowering Elena into it and pulling the blanket over her before pulling it close to me. My knees are hugged to my chest as I try not to sob. Try not to lose it. I can’t fall apart. Not when she’s here. Not when my baby girl’s life is on the line.

A muffled voice outside the wall makes my breath hitch. It’s deep. Russian. Two of them. Fuck. I knew it. This has to be Oleksi. Or his men. He warned me. I pushed him. And now they’re here—for the phone. For the evidence I threatened him with earlier. God, I was so sure I could handle this. So sure he wouldn’t retaliate. But of course he would. I don’t know why I believed he wouldn’t.

Please, Sam. Please. By some miracle, be back in Vegas. Hear that alert go off. You swore it would go straight to your phone if anyone tried to get in.

I glance down at Elena, still breathing softly in her chair, and whisper, “Please don’t wake up, baby. Please. Mommy can’t protect you if you cry.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. My knuckles are white around the chair’s frame. I’ve never felt so powerless. Never felt so fucking stupid or scared in all my life—what if I can’t protect her?

I should’ve known better than to go up against Oleksi Mirochin.

Oleksi

The door is open.

Not kicked in. Not jimmied. Just… slightly ajar.

My blood runs cold.

“Stay quiet,” I growl to Ivan, Lev, and Syd, who are flanking me, guns drawn. Syd’s face is pale, but her eyes are burning—I had told her about Clyde on the way over here. He’s hanging by a thread. And I feel sorry if these are the Russian twins that Sam said shot Clyde because she will make them pay.

We step inside like shadows. The tension is thick enough to choke on. From down the hall, I hear Russian—two voices. Male. Sharp and low, arguing about where “it” is.

They’re still here.

I nod to Ivan and Lev, and we move as one. Years of training and muscle memory kick in. It’s almost beautiful how fast it goes down. Lev flanks the hallway; Ivan goes in hard. Syd hangs back to cover the exit.

It’s over in less than a minute. Two tall, hulking Russian men—the twins—are pinned and bleeding on the hardwood floor. They won’t give their names. Of course not.

“Secure them,” I bark. “Take them to Gunner. He'll get the information we need from them.”

“And I’ll help him.” Syd’s voice is filled with malice, her eyes blazing as she eyes the twins. “It’s going to be so good to watch especially since Gunner’s gone without a good interrogation for months now.”

“You don’t scare us,” the twin with a scar on his cheeks tells us.

“We might not,” Syd jumps in before anyone else can. “But wait until you meet Gunner. His father was Oleg Zaitsev, the notorious torturer.”

I see the twin brows shoot up. Of course Russian’s would know who he was. He was one of the nightmare stories parents used as cautionary tales to scare their kids into submission

Lev and Syd herd the Russian twins from the apartment.

“What about you?” Ivan asks, his cheeks still flushed from the thrill of the fight.

“I need to find Sabrina and her baby.”

Before he can reply, my boots thunder through the apartment. I hit the one bedroom first. The bed’s unmade. The baby monitor is glowing. Her scent is in the air—sweet, like jasmine and warmth. She was here. Recently.

I scan the room, then notice the window wide open. The fire escape ladder is dangling outside it. My stomach knots.

“Syd!” I yell. “Wait.” I rush out the door stopping her before they get to the stairs and approach the men asking them in Russian. “Where is she?”

“Who?” The twin without the scar asks.

“Sabrina Craft!” I say through gritted teeth on the edge of ploughing my fists into the man’s stoic face.

“We see no one,” Scarface tells me. “She probably go out window. We did not see her.”

“Ru is going to be mad about the little one,” I hear the one without the scar whisper to his brother.

“What did you say?” I step in front of them.

“My brother said nothing.” Scarface stands almost nose to nose with me and in that moment I’m sure these men are either Russian military or some rival Russian Bratva fresh off the boat from Russia as well if their clothes and demeanor are anything to go by.

“Get them to Gunner. I want to know everything he can extract from these bastards,” I order.

They nod and carry on walking the men down the stairs.

I’m already pulling out my phone as I step back into Sabrina’s apartment.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ivan says, righting some furniture and putting cushions back on the living room chairs and sofa.

“I’m good. You need to go ensure Syd and Lev get those bastards to Gunner,” I order.

Ivan nods. “Okay. Call if you need us.”

“I will,” I assure him. “And make sure Gunner or Syd don’t kill them.” Although I don’t really care, but they know something about Tara Craft and I want to know what.

As Ivan leaves I dial Sam. “Sam,” I say the second he answers.

“You got them?”

“Yeah. The Russians, and it was the twins.”

“Good. Don’t kill them until I get a crack at them as I need answers.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Are Sabrina and the baby okay?”

I hesitate. “They’re not here. But her window’s open. I think she might have gone out there as the fire ladder is down.”

There’s a pause. Then Sam says, “Good girl.”

“Where would she go?” I ask him.

“Are you in her room?” Sam asks.

“No, should I be?”

“Go into her room,” Sam tells me and I go where I stand and stare out her window expecting him to tell me there was a ledge or some little escape pod she was hiding in.

“I’m here and standing by her window.”

“Turn around and face the closet.”

I do. “Yeah?”

“In between the closest is a white panel.”

“I see it.”

“In the right closet, middle shelf near the back of it you’ll feel a small lever. Push and as soon as the fake panel between the closets opens, say purple porcupine.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No. If you say the security word she’ll know I picked up the alarm and sent you.”

“What is with you people and these fucking codes?” I grumble searching for the lever.

“You’ve clearly never raised kids,” he mutters. “These days they all have pass codes.”

I find the lever keeping the phone pressed to my ear. I click it and the false wall shifts. I step in front of it.

“You won’t take us!” a voice yells.

Something hits me square in the face. A… pacifier. Then a vicious little blonde hellcat dressed in fuzzy pink pajamas with red hearts saying ‘I heart my sleep’ flies out the closet at me. I reach out with my free hand and clamped around her arm holding her kicking and hitting out of me at arms length.

“Sabrina,” my voice startles her as her eyes meet mine.

“You!” Sabrina’s voice roars, and she starts trying to punch and kick me but I have a long wingspan that keeps her at a safe distance. “Fucking vindictive bastard.” My head moves past her but she moves to block my view and I realize she’s protecting her baby perched in a rocker just behind her. “I knew it was you! I warned you what would happen if you came near us!”

“Say the fucking code word,” Sam barks from the phone still glued to my ear.

I almost forgot he was on the line. I’m too stunned by the tiny, furious mama bear in front of me. Hair wild, eyes blazing, and chest heaving. She’s trembling, but not from fear. From sheer rage as she protects her daughter.

My heart damn near caves in.

“Sabrina, wait—”

Elena starts crying.

“Now look what you’ve done, you big ass,” she hisses, pulling her arm from my grasp she turns and scoops her daughter up, cooing, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That big brute tried to steal your pacifier. Now it's got his icky germs all over it so we’ll have to get you another one.”

But her eyes flick to the side and I know Sabrina is not going for a pacifier—she’s about to bolt.

“Sabrina, wait—”

“For God’s sake, say the damn word!” Sam yells still in my ear.

“Purple… pop tart,” I mutter.

“Oh for fuck sakes, put me on speaker, “ Sam groans and I do what he asks.

Sabrina’s eyes flash. “Is that Sam?”

I nod, still stunned by her and my reaction. “Yes.”

Her hand shoots out, grabbing the phone. “Here can you hold Elena for a while.” She hands me her daughter, never taking her eyes off me. She speaks to the phone. “Sam?”

“Sabrina! Thank God. Are you both alright?” Sam’s voice echoes through the speaker phone. “Oh and purple porcupine.”

“So you sent him?” Sabrina’s voice drops with accusation.

“I had no choice. I'm still in New York, little ballerina,” Sam’s endearment sparks a lick of jealousy in me. “Were you and Elena hurt?”

“We're okay.” She watches me intently.

I place the wailing Elena on my shoulder, gently rocking her. To my shock—and Sabrina’s—she calms almost instantly, curling into my neck.

“Take me off speaker, we need to talk,” Sam tells her.

She does and lifts the phone to her ear. “What is it?”

I’m a little distracted by the soft warm bundle snuggling into me and hardly hear what Sabrina is saying until her angry words bellow across to me.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Sabrina’s eyes narrow angrily at me. “We don’t have to do that. Oleksi has the men now we’ll be fine where we are.”

Oh, Sam is telling her about her new living arrangements.

Her voice is tight. Controlled. “Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

She shoves the phone back at me and rips Elena from my arms. “He wants to talk to you.” Sabrina looks at me accusingly. “I can’t believe the length’s you’d go to, to get your own way.”

She storms off.

“I assume you told her?” I ask Sam.

“Better me than you,” Sam says. “She’s pissed and I don’t envy you right now.”

“No shit.”

There's a pause before Sam says, “I owe you, Mirochin.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I’ll collect on that someday,” I tell him. “I may need to disappear.”

“I’ll make sure no one ever finds you,” he promises. “Take care of my girls and don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” I say quietly, and I mean every word.

I hang up and go find her. She’s in the living room—not packing. Sabrina is straightening the mess the two Russian fuckers made of her apartment.

“I’ll send someone to do this,” I say.

“No thanks.” Her voice is ice. “I still don’t believe you had nothing to do with this.”

“I didn’t,” I assure her knowing she doesn’t believe me and that when I realize she’s looking for something not clearing up. “What are you looking for?”

She eyes me warily. “If those men weren’t yours, then they were here for a reason. Something they think Tara had.”

I nod. “You think it’s still here?”

“Did they have anything on them when you arrived?” she asks me curiously.

“No, as far as I could see they were still looking for whatever it was,” I answer her honestly. My eyes land on the little bundle bouncing in the chair secured to the counter.

Sabrina draws my attention back to her as I see her eyes sweep the room, sharp and calculating. “Tara wouldn’t hide it in her own room. That would be too obvious.”

She freezes. Her eyes widening. “Of course.”

She bolts for her bedroom. I grab Elena from the chair, weary to leave her alone for a second and follow, to find Sabrina rummaging beneath the bed. She slams her palm against a floorboard and pops up holding a tin box.

“Son of a bitch,” she mutters, staring at it. “Tara always hid her shit in my room.”

A noise sounds from the other room—it’s footsteps and my heart slams against my ribs.

I hand Elena to her, signal for silence, and step out—

Only to be tackled by a blur.

A woman with her face covered by a balaclava and she’s fucking fast.

I lunge for her but she evades me rushing to Sabrina’s room where she slams the bedroom door behind her and as I get to it my heart nearly stops as I hear the bolt slide into place.

“Sabrina!” I roar, pounding on the door until it gives way.

When I break into the room I find Sabrina huddled in the corner, shielding Elena with her body. The woman is gone, obviously out the window.

“You okay?” I ask, racing to her.

She nods shakily, and I pull them into my arms.

She doesn’t resist, Sabrina leans into me for a few moments as if absorbing my strength. “What the hell is going on, Oleksi?” she whispers.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But I’m getting you out of here. Tonight. Tomorrow, you and I will look for answers—together.”

Her eyes meet mine and she nods, her eyes are shining bright with unshed tears and fear.

I know right then and there, I would burn down hell if it meant keeping Sabrina and Elena safe.