Page 13

Chapter thirteen

Ryder

"Welcome to my home," Ivan announces in his thick Russian accent with his arms spread theatrically wide. A huge smile is plastered across his smug face. His home is a massive mansion that sprawls across acres of manicured grounds. Marble columns stand on either side of the entrance, while ornate gold leaf adorn nearly every surface—from the elaborate crown moldings to the baroque picture frames lining the halls. The opulence is overwhelming, bordering on gaudy, but it somehow managed to maintain an air of sophistication. It’s very different from the penthouse we went to the last time I was in Russia.

He walks towards us, flanked by two burly men in dark suits, we greet each other with a firm handshake. He puts a little more grip into his, squeezing just enough to make his point clear. Letting us know that he feels like he is in charge, a classic power move I've seen countless times in my line of work. His weathered hands are surprisingly strong despite his age.

"Hello Ivan, thank you for inviting us to your home." Chase is always the polite one, maintaining his military-bred courtesy and respect even in the presence of men like this. His warm brown eyes and easy smile could disarm just about anyone, a skill that had proven invaluable over the years.

"I hope it wasn't too hard to find," Ivan says. Without waiting for an answer, he continues. "Let's go out to the back patio. There is business to discuss, no?"

He turns and heads towards the massive glass doors that lead to what looks like an impressive stone patio and landscaped yard, his expensive Italian leather shoes clicking against the marble flooring. Once out there, we take our seats in plush outdoor furniture arranged around a stone fire pit.

His guards position themselves just outside the doors, their stance rigid and watchful, keeping a careful eye on us. I grin to myself, noting how their hands hover near their concealed weapons. At least Ivan knows we are a threat. It's almost flattering how seriously he's taking this meeting, though Chase and I have certainly earned that kind of respect.

"What can I help you boys with? Are you here to talk about bringing over another team?" Ivan says. I want to go. I stop myself from rolling my eyes at him calling us boys. It’s just another power move, letting us know that he thinks he’s above us.

Chase again, always the professional, lacing his fingers together as he leans forward in his seat, "No, we heard there has been some problems with food and medicine deliveries. We want to know what the problem is, and if we could somehow find a solution. Our company specializes in logistics security, and we might be able to help resolve whatever issues you're facing."

I smirk because Chase is good, damn good at playing this game of careful implications. Ivan though looks like he swallowed a bug, his face twisting uncomfortably. I guess he didn't think we would find out that he was holding out on supplies to our safe house. Amateur move, really, given our resources and connections.

"No, no, no. No problem with supplies," he says, sitting up straighter in his chair and gesturing emphatically with his hands. "We had a little bit of a problem, yes. Just a small delay with one of our regular drivers. But everything has been taken care of, resolved. Not a problem anymore," he tries to reassure us. The slight tremor in his voice and the way his eyes keep darting between Chase and me tells a different story.

Chase glances down at the cell phone that sits on the table, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. He is waiting for Keith to let us know that our men and the soldiers made it back to our private jet safely through the chaos of the city streets. We gave them a head start, but they should’ve been back at the plane by now.

Once they are securely on board, we have exactly one hour to wrap this up and get back there. If they don't hear from us by then, they have strict orders to take off without us—no exceptions, no delays. The text from Keith will start the timer, an d every second after that becomes precious currency we can't afford to waste.

"That right?" I counter, cocking an eyebrow while my back is flush against the plush seat. My fingertips tap once on the leather arm before going still. "Strange, since we're hearing something else entirely. Those men have endured enough. They aren't your military captives. A twelve-month contract doesn't give you license to manipulate them as leverage against our team." The statement cuts more severely than planned. Shit. I might have played our hand too quickly.

Ivan goes to speak but the chirping of Chase’s cell phone stops him. Chase picks it up, "Excuse me." He apologizes as he looks at it. After reading the message, Chase looks at me and nods, signaling we are in the clear. "The contract states that you are to supply the American soldiers with food, water, and medication as needed." Chase says as he pulls the contract out of his briefcase. "By not honoring the terms of the contract, the contract is now null and void."

"I did not stop the supply of food and medicine," he continues, sticking to his story. But we wouldn’t be here if we didn't have concrete proof to the contrary. Ivan is only making things more difficult.

Chase taps purposefully at his cell phone screen, and the video feed from the safe house surveillance system immediately opens—crystal clear despite the distance.

"We have cameras everywhere. Inside and out. I can send you all the files documenting each instance where you didn't allow the supplies to be delivered." He angles the phone toward Ivan, displaying multiple camera angles from the exterior of the compound. The footage clearly shows the supply truck approaching the gates, followed by one of his armed guards aggressively waving them away, forcing the vehicle to turn around without unloading its cargo.

Ivan tries to backtrack and defends himself, "Your men were not doing as they were told. They are suppose to follow my orders. That was also in the contract." He punctuates his words by slamming his fists down on the arms of his chair like an angry child.

That gets me sitting straight up in my chair, "Bullshit. The only thing our men refused to do for you was to kidnap kids for your sex houses. That wasn't part of the contract, and you damn well know it." I am barely containing my anger as I lean forward, my hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly they begin to audibly crack beneath the pressure.

Ch ase interjects, "What Ryder is trying to say is that there was a clause in the contract that protected our men from doing any work involving children and women, unless it was a rescue mission. Therefore, they have every right to turn down those jobs. It was explicitly signed by your own hand, Ivan. Our company has standards that we won't compromise, no matter what."

"It was only a few days. They were fine," Ivan tries to reason, his thick accent more pronounced in his agitation, beads of sweat forming on his upper lip.

This man fucking disgusts me.

"There is a reason why we have contracts. You broke it," I state flatly. "Unfortunately, that means we have to part ways. Our reputation and principles are not negotiable"

That's when our ground team, that had been holding their position down the street made their entrance, bursting through the front door. Impeccable goddamn timing, as always.

"Okay, okay." Ivan says, putting his hands up trying to defuse the situation. "I wanted them to help me out. I thought they would enjoy it. The little ones can be so nice to the men afterwards. I have a little boy upstairs if you'd like to see for yourself. He isn't much older than 7 years old. Sweet little one. I've trained him myself."

This sick son of a bitch. I don't pause to think; I just react. All the events of the past few months flooding my mind, and then to hear this depraved bastard offer us a turn with a seven-year-old kid? I lose it. I get right up in Ivan's face, close enough to feel the sweat on his skin.

"You deserve much worse than this." With that, I pull out my gun and fire, the bullet entering Ivan's skull with a wet thud as we stand there, face-to-face. Blood spraying all over me. His body crumples instantly, like a marionette cut from its strings.

"What the hell Ryder!" Chase yells and I can barely make out what he’s saying over the ringing in my ears. "What are you thinking? You can't just shoot him!" He says as he rushes over to check Ivan. It's in vain, he is dead. A bullet to the brain typically does that to a person.

"It looks like I can just shoot him, because I just fucking did. Did you not hear what that asshole just said to us? He has a little boy upstairs that he wanted us to try out. I wish I could bring the bastard back from the dead so I can shoot him all over again. He deserved exactly what he just got." I y ell back at him.

"Sir, are we doing a cleanup? If not, we need to go." Chip, the captain of the Axiom team that's been in Russia asks.

I look at Chase, "It's your call." I wave my hand over Ivan's dead body.

"Oh, now you fucking consult with me on what to do? We had a plan Ryder. Fuck, we don't have time for this shit." He says the last part more to himself. "Chip, clean our prints, and make it look like we were never here. Then move out. We have to get to the jet in," he looks down at his gold Rolex, "37 minutes. You have 5 minutes till we are rolling out. Make sure you get the boy Ivan was keeping upstairs. We will take him back with us. He’s probably scared, be cautious of your words and movements around him." Chase gives the orders to Chip, and then he and his men disburse.

Chase and I walk out of Ivan’s house, towards the waiting SUVs. "I'm sorry I shot Ivan but…" I start to apologize, but Chase cuts me off.

"Save it. You know better than to let your anger cloud your judgement. We can’t afford a fuck up like this, Ryder. If word gets out we killed a client over a disagreement, the business is done for. Every single client will bail as soon as their contracts are up. not to mention it’s the fucking Russians. Look, I get it. The situation with Ava has you wound tight, but you can't snap like that. You executed him point-blank, for Christ's sake."

I know he's right. That kind of reaction isn’t like me at all. We could have worked through underground connections to shut down those brothels and save those kids. But gunning down someone who hired us crossed a major line.

"You're right. I screwed up," I mutter, trailing behind him like a child in trouble.

We retrieve the go bag from the back of the SUV. It has our standard cleanup supplies. I scrub the blood from my skin with sanitizing cloths, then wash the gore from my hair with bottled water. After changing into fresh clothes, I watch Chase wordlessly gather my bloody clothes, stuff them in the duffel, and slam the cargo door with more force than necessary. Without speaking, we settle into the back seats. Once everyone is in their vehicles, we rush to the landing strip.

"We will talk about this when we get home. For now, we still have to make it back to the jet,” he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. The weight of what just happened hangs heavy between us.

I am sorry that I shot Ivan when I did, but I’m sure as hell not sorry that I shot him. That motherfucker had it coming. Clint’s next, but he won’t get it so easy. Clint will suffer

We board the plane, and the first thing I notice is the men grinning at me from their seats, their faces tired but grateful. Something warm blooms in my chest at their expressions, making me smile a real, actual smile for the first time in more than three months. After everything that's happened, seeing them on this jet feels like a small victory, a reminder that some good can come after all the darkness.

"Ryder!" I look to the back of the plane and see August. With his big goofy smile on his face. "You did it man. You guys are getting us home. I can't wait to see Ava. She is going to be shocked as shit." He says after he gives me the biggest hug.

Damn, I have to break it to him right away. "August, come with me. There are some things we need to talk about."

I guide him toward the makeshift lounge we created in the jet's rear section. We step into the cramped space, furnished with a trio of plush recliners and a mounted television screen.

He settles into one of the recliners and leans forward, resting his arms on his legs. "What's happening Ryder? Are we not heading back home?" The disappointment I see on his face cuts deep.

The moment of truth has come, and my stomach churns with anxiety. I have to tell him about Ava.

"No, you are going home. We still have bureaucratic hurdles with the military and government to prove your existence. The paperwork alone is a nightmare, but we'll tackle that battle with all of you present. It'll be easier that way."

I suspect he might lunge for my throat when I tell him not only that Ava is in a coma from her ex's brutal attack, but that somewhere along the way, I've fallen in love with his sister. I guess this will be karma coming back around to bite me in the ass for nearly choking Keith to death.

Yeah, I'm a dead man .

"I'm going to need you to not ask any questions until I'm done. Then I will answer any questions you have. Deal?" I probably should add keep your hands to yourself, but I won’t push my luck.

"Yeah man, you're actually starting to worry me. Is Ava okay? Did you check on her like you promised?" He asked.

“I checked on her, in a roundabout way. I ran into Ava during one of her rallies. We grabbed coffee the next day, and we started dating. Things got serious about four months back when we realized our feelings, but then—" My voice trails off as emotion chokes me up. August remains motionless, his eyes fixed on me, silently urging me to go on.

Then it was like a light bulb went off, “How long ago did you start seeing my sister? Was it before or after you guys got us back? Time is a little funny here.”

“Before. I know I should have told you, man. Just please let me finish.”

I can tell by the set of his jaw, he is pissed. “Go on.”

"Clint abducted her outside of Axiom headquarters. He beat her and cut her till—"

Deep breath. Come on Ryder, you have to do this.

"She has been in a coma for the last three months. The doctors have done everything, but they don't know why she isn't waking up."

I shift my gaze to August. He sits motionless, focused on his palms. When he eventually breaks his silence, his words cut deeper than any blade could.

"You've waited all this time to tell me my sister was attacked and in a coma—and you choose now to say something? Before this happened to her, did anyone tell her I am alive, or will she die never knowing, still thinking I'm dead?"

"August, it wasn’t like that. You asked me not to tell her."

“I know I did, but I didn’t think I would be coming home to her in a fucking coma either. You should have informed me about her condition. That’s my sister, Ryder."

"I know that, August. I've been by her side since it happened. I didn't even go into the office until a few days ago. And given our past, my team wouldn't share the news without my approval. I thought delivering this information face-to-face made more sense," I explain.

I see his surprised expression. "You haven't left her side?" I nod my head in confirmation. "You truly love her that much?"

"I do. So fucking much." I sink further into the chair. Until that moment, I hadn't noticed how tense my muscles were.

“Wait, did you force her to do your BDSM shit?”

“I’m not going to talk about our sex life with you. I will say, anything and everything we do is controlled by her.”

There is a sharp knock at the door, and Ethan pokes his head inside, his blond ponytail swinging with the movement.

"Everyone needs to get into their seats and buckle up. I’m about to take off," he says in his professional pilot voice, so different from his usual playful tone. He gives us a quick nod then closes the door with a soft click.

Rising simultaneously, August catches me off guard by embracing me tightly. "I appreciate you watching over her. Not telling me was the smart choice. I'd have fought tooth and nail to get out of there risking the other guys' lives in the process. I don't like the choices you made, but I understand why you made them. They were the right ones to do, man."

I follow August back to our seats as the plane begins taxiing down the runway. My mind drifts to Ava lying in that hospital bed. Three months. Three fucking months of watching her chest rise and fall, hoping each breath might be the one where she finally opens her eyes.

"Tell me about her rallies," August says, breaking into my thoughts. "What was she speaking about when you first met?"

A small smile tugs at my lips. "Women's rights. She was fierce.”

"That's my sister." August chuckles. "Always fighting for what she believes in."

"She is brilliant. She's missed you so much," I say.

The plane lifts off smoothly under Ethan's skilled handling. I lean my head back against the seat, exhaustion finally catching up with me. But sleep won't come—not when I’m so close to getting back to her.

"You know she's going to kick both our asses when she wakes up, right?" August says. "Me for getting captured, you for keeping secrets."

"I'd gladly take an ass kicking if it means she's awake."

Chase catches my eye from across the aisle and gives me a subtle nod. Despite the mess with Ivan, we accomplished our main mission. We got our brothers back. Now I just need Ava to wake up so she can see her brother is alive.