Page 61 of Kept in the Dark (Hitmen of Ulysses #2)

Dimitri

For her, I will beg.

“Anything yet?”

“Negative. That car just turned on the next road, and they’re not looping back. Whatcha got, Big D?”

“Nothing on the ground.”

I am in the back of our warehouse, where we set off the USB, waiting in the shadows.

I can see the area behind the warehouse up to the line of trees about a mile away.

Though I do not have James’s eagle eyes, I would be able to detect movement.

There is only one road, and farms for miles.

Wesley’s van is parked behind a barbed wire fence and has been made to look derelict.

That van is my exit strategy if things get out of hand and I need a quick escape.

The warehouse was a good choice for our setup.

It is remote, defensible, and it looks abandoned.

Volkevich’s men will approach with caution, and assume they are being watched; but there is no way for them to spot James up in a crow’s nest, nearly a kilometer away, or me hiding behind so much concrete.

And if we are overwhelmed by their numbers, well… that is what the backup plan is for.

If anyone ever fucking shows. We sent the signal hours ago.

“So… I know I said I wouldn’t pry, but since we’re all sitting here with our dicks in our hands…”

Wesley is the one who makes a knowing noise. “You’re a dog with a bone.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not curious, Wes.”

“I was trying to give him some space. Not all of us have such shite impulse control.”

“Whatever—tell that to my five total career missed shots. Anyway, what gives, D? One minute you’re ready to ask her to move in, and the next you’re having Wes put together a getaway package and telling us to fuck off when we ask about it?

It’s bullshit. Like Wes said, she’s part of our dysfunctional family. Don’t make me a child of divorce.”

I am an expert at pushing emotions down or away—unpleasant or otherwise. But now, something rises in the back of my throat at the memory of last night. It took me hours to collect and pack her belongings because I could not stop staring at her curled form in the furthest corner of the bed.

“ Mudak ,” I curse at him. “This is not about you. It is about her. And she… deserves to have the life she wants. She wants to find her home. To have her freedom.”

“So, you told her to go?” Wesley asks, aghast, voice full of poorly concealed condemnation.

“She wanted to leave. I let her.”

Quiet on the line follows my declaration, and I am horribly shamed by it. I can feel their judgments mounting, finding me as wanting as I do. But I know I am doing the right thing, honoring her wishes.

Right?

Unsurprisingly, James is the one to break the silence. “Wait a minute. You’re just… giving up?”

“You didn’t give up when she broke your fucking nose,” Wesley adds wryly.

“This is what she wants.”

“It is?” Wesley repeats in a tone of disbelief.

“I cannot give her the life she wants. She said as much.”

“And what life is that?”

“A better one. One without me. She deserves better than a ruined man who will probably be killed violently one day.”

“Whoa, that’s what she said?” James sounds offended on my behalf. “Doesn’t sound like her.”

I grit my teeth. “Not in so many words. She did not need to. After I killed Viktor… that night…” a sharp pain lances my chest, and I rub the area. “She knows I am a monster. How could this ever work between us?”

“She makes you feel like a monster?” James presses.

“Well…” She did everything she could to convince me that she did not fear me that night. “No…”

“We call that one ‘projecting,’ my guy. Besides, ain’t you ever heard of Beauty and the Beast ? Chicks love a monster.”

“I think what Mac’s trying to say is that relationships are never going to be easy for us—I’m sure Eleanor would agree—so it won’t work if you don’t make it work.

Sounds to me like you both got scared. She pulled away, then you did, and now you’re both twiddling your thumbs, pretending not to see how monumentally stupid you’ve been. ”

“What would you have me do?” I growl.

“Bring her back, ” Wesley says, emphasizing each word. At the same time, James laughs and shouts, “Go after her!”

“She wants to leave,” I repeat dumbly. “She does not want me.”

“Oh, please. You guys are just really shitty communicators.”

“Everyone can see how mad about each other you are. Maybe we’re wrong,” Wesley says. “Well, I’m not familiar with the experience, so Mac will have to explain what it’s like so I can be sure—”

“Eat me, Short Round.”

“—but don’t you want to at least try to talk it out? To know ?”

“Talk it out, Wes? What is this, Dr. fucking Phil? Take it from me, Big D—women like it best when you use your tongue for something other than talking, you feel me? You gotta go up to her, get on your knees, and apologize. Then do it again, in case it doesn’t stick the first time.”

It would be sound advice, if not for one thing: I cannot get on my knees for her because I have been on them since the moment I saw her.

The man I have always been has never begged anyone for anything before—would never beg someone to want him.

But to keep her, I must not be that man. For her, I will beg.

Fuck this. One fight cannot ruin what we have. I will not allow it.

Wesley is correct—we were both afraid. She is scared, but not of me, as I feared.

She is scared of… truths, and pain that she cannot heal herself, with stitches and bandages.

In fact, the more I consider this, the more obvious it seems. She told me of her nomadic lifestyle, of her search for home and belonging.

I should have expected that running is her preferred method of dealing with issues—she avoids them instead of facing them.

I was too wounded by her rejection to think rationally. I allowed my pride to dictate my response. Never again.

When it comes to her… I must have no pride.

I am nearly in the doorway leading out to the back entrance and the van when the swish of my tactical pants and the weight of the knives in my palms remind me of where I am.

Fuck!

After. I will find her… after. If she follows my advice, she will be untraceable until she makes contact, but once she does, I will find her.

I will remind her that she is mine and that sometimes, taking care of her means forcing her to confront her own fears.

I can help. It will be easier to do together.

I nearly jump at the sound of James in my ear again. “Hey darlin’. You get what you needed from… whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. Eleanor, slow down…”

In an instant, my blood turns to ice, and I know. It is Nicole .

“Wes, I’m switching the line, patch her through?”

There is a dial tone in my ear on James’s side, then I can hear Eleanor’s panicked voice, “ —just closed her right in and I didn’t know what to do, but I—”

“What happened?” I growl. Kyle found her, somehow.

“Dimitri? Oh my God,” Eleanor sobs. “I’m so sorry! Before I knew what was happening, they were driving away… this is all my fault.”

“Breathe, darlin’,” James coaches, and I want to wring his neck for suggesting it. She does not need to breathe; she needs to tell us where to find Nicole!

“We were stopping for five minutes at her place to get something from the U-Haul before we went back home—”

“Home?” I repeat. Surely that was a misspoken word… still, hope weaves around my heart, winding through the confusion and panic. “You mean to the bus station?”

“No, I… fuck it, that promise is so unimportant now. Nicole was coming home with me, Dimitri. She decided not to leave.”

Something unnamed slams into my chest, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs.

“They must have been there watching, waiting for her to show. She was only in the back of the van for three minutes; I timed it. Some guy with his hood up snuck right up to the truck and locked her in the back, then got into the driver’s seat and drove away! She’s still in the back!”

I mute myself to scream my rage. It burns my throat and makes me feel out of control for one brief, sharp moment, but that leeches away with the air in my lungs, leaving only steely resolve. I tuck away my knives and sprint out to the van.

Kyle obviously is not coming here. We need to find him.

My med …

Fuck!

We will find him. And we will make him pay .

“Where is she? Where are you?” I growl. The sliding door slams against the end of the track, jolting the entire Bugs-B-Gon van and revealing Wesley, hunched over his laptop and scowling. I throw my bag into the back, and follow it in to watch Wesley’s screens.

“I’m following the truck!” I can hear the rapid, whimpering breaths she is taking in. She is clearly terrified.

“You activate that tracker on your watch?” James asks, his voice calming and gentle—soft for her as ever.

“Shit! I forgot. Okay, hold on, we’re coming to a stop… Okay… there. Sorry! It all happened so quickly!”

“You did good, darlin’, your quick thinking probably saved her life. Now, take a deep breath for me—atta girl—and one more. Are you all right?”

“Not really,” she laughs, but there is no humor in it as she sniffles. “I just watched my friend get locked into the back of a van, and I’m following the bastards that did it to God knows where. My hands are sh-shaking and I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“I know, baby,” James says, “but you’re doing great. You’ve got this. Wes, you got her tracking info?”

“Looks like… south on Vine?”

“Yeah,” she confirms. “What’s going on? Who was that guy? What do they want with Nicole? Know what? Never mind. Just tell me you’re coming to get her.” There is censure and warning in her tone.

Fierce little creature. It nearly makes me smile, though I am far too angry. “Every man who touches her will die.”

There is a beat of silence. Wesley glances my way, lifting a brow.

“That’s what I’m fuckin’ talking about,” James approves. “All right, D. How do you want to play this?”

I check the location where Eleanor has stopped, feeling triumph bleeding into the edges of my panic. They are heading towards a rundown part of the city, currently undergoing a wave of gentrification .

“Scorched earth.”

“Uh…” with one word, James puts both Wesley and me on high alert. Gone is the breezy excitement, replaced with a tightness meant to hide panic. “Hey, baby, I’m gonna mute myself for a sec, but I’m right here, and I can still hear you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Code fucking red. I’ve got three SUVs heading your way.”

“Fuck!” Wesley curses, shaking his head.

His fingers fly across the screen, and he moves back and forth between windows fast enough to make my head spin.

One of the views is of an intersection a few kilometers away, and I can see the cars James flagged.

Three identical, clean, shiny black cars with tinted windows driving in a line.

They certainly give off the impression of Bratva men coming to collect.

“We do not have time to wait for them to arrive,” I decide. We have to move. Every second Nicole spends with Kyle is a second her life is at risk. She is still in transit, but we are a long way from Eleanor’s tracking dot. They will certainly arrive at their destination long before we do.

“I do. I’m already in place here. You and Wes go, I’ll stay. They’ll never see me coming, and I’ll be long gone before they even realize where I am. I may not get ‘em all, but I’ll make as many of them pay as I fucking can. Now, go get our girls.”