He stared at the building under the darkest night skies. The clouds that had hung heavy throughout the day had remained tonight, keeping the stars and moon hidden.
All the better for their plans.
Kir steered Sergei’s bulletproof sedan close to the side entrance where two guards wearing black long-sleeved shirts and black pants waited and put the gearshift in park.
11:58 p.m.
Almost time.
While they’d all held their silence for much of the drive over, Sergei’s voice from the backseat in that moment was filled with both warning and deep understanding. “I know where you are, moy brat. I know all the plans you have made for Rossi since his men put their hands on Bonnie.” He paused, a silence designed to give his words more weight. “But you will risk many lives if you do not maintain control.”
Roman managed a clipped nod, but otherwise kept his gaze on the warehouse and the gooseneck lamp shining on the main entrance. His pakhan wasn’t one to pay lip service to such a moment. He did know how it felt to be in Roman’s shoes. Had waited nearly as many hours to track down Evette and Emerson’s captor and save his wife and child.
But he’d held on to his control. And in the end, the woman who’d dared to touch Evette and Emerson had suffered greatly.
Erick Rossi would experience the same.
“We have a plan,” Kir added. “A good one. Now we let it play out.”
It had been years since Roman had felt fear. Perhaps as long ago as his first kill. But the brutality of it hit him now. The cold sweat. The clammy hands and short, choppy breaths. If anything went wrong and Bonnie was hurt, it would be on him. On his failure to protect her. It didn’t matter that Bonnie had insisted on going in the first place. Only that he should have heeded his instincts and prevented it.
The digital clock on the dash flipped to midnight, and Sergei commanded them forward. “It is time.”
Sergei preceded them both, Kir and Roman flanking him on either side as a slight winter breeze whipped around the building. As they neared the guards, one of them dipped their head in acknowledgment and opened the door.
With Bonnie’s computer held loosely in one hand for all to see, Roman followed Sergei inside while Kir took up the rear. All of them were fully armed, though it only took a quick scan of their surroundings to accept they were clearly outnumbered. Two to one, if they factored in the guards outside.
Four men formed a loose parameter at each side of the building, stationed by one of many wooden crates. Crates that would serve as convenient cover should gunfire come into play. A wide banker’s desk that looked like it had been manufactured forty years ago sat in front of a row of file cabinets and haphazard papers were strewn on top of it. Industrial fluorescents overhead cast the space in a sterile, cold light and highlighted just how active the building was during normal working hours.
But no sign of Bonnie or her family.
From the shadows beyond, footsteps clipped against the clean concrete floors. Several pairs of them—which meant the disadvantage was about to go up significantly. The first to emerge from the darkness was a well-dressed dark-haired man with an average build. Behind him were two men wearing the same black long-sleeved shirt and pant combination worn by all the other guards. Each of them held military grade Browning Automatic rifles braced in both hands.
“Mr. Petrovyh.” The suit-clad man in front strode forward and held out his hand. “I appreciate your punctual arrival.”
“Mr. Rossi.” Sergei accepted the man’s handshake, but did so with a smirk at the men wielding firearms behind him. “Interesting that you felt the need to come so well armed. A bit much for a simple exchange, is it not?”
“Well,” Rossi said holding out his hands to each side, “one can never know what to expect with new acquaintances.”
“Or one might need to rely on intimidation tactics, rather than business-like conduct.” Not waiting to let the subtle jab sink in, Sergei scanned the deep shadows where the men had appeared from. “Where is Miss Drummond?”
Rossi’s gaze dropped to the computer in Roman’s hand then shuttled back to Sergei. “She is safe. As you can imagine, I wanted to confirm you brought the computer intact as requested before bringing her in.”
“You will not touch the computer until I see Bonnie and her family,” Roman said.
While the gruff outburst went against their agreed upon plan, Sergei still seemed to fight a smile. “My brother is short on patience, Mr. Rossi. You claim to be a man of business. One experienced in our way of life. And yet you knowingly laid hands on a brother’s bride. The fact that he’s even entertaining this trade rather than ripping your head from your body shows tremendous control.”
Rossi turned his malicious black stare on Roman. “It would be entertaining to see you try.”
Greed.
Indifference.
Evil.
It was all there. A gluttony of power that had all but wiped out good sense.
But Roman would replace it with new emotions. Terror. Misery. Bone-chilling desperation. All he had to do was keep his cool for a bit longer. “If you want to lay hands on this device, you will bring me Bonnie, her father and her brother.”
Rossi shook his head and chuckled. “Such theatrics.” He shifted his gaze to Sergei, then Kir and added, “Perhaps it is a Russian thing. We Americans are more...refined in our dealings.”
Sergei didn’t flinch.
Nor did Kir.
All three of them merely stared the pompous ass down with calm, almost bored smirks.
Sighing, Rossi motioned to the men carrying guns. “Bring them in. Let’s get this over with.”
It took a solid three minutes, the silence as each second ticked by building the tension until the air fairly crackled. Too much energy. Too many guns and twitchy fingers. The trick would be to keep Bonnie out of the middle of the room. Somewhere close to the crates where he could shield her if needed.
A door slammed shut from somewhere unseen and the shuffling pattern of unsteady footsteps filtered from the darkness.
Bonnie.
Her face was the first he saw, her eyes wide with both fear and hope as she helped her father into the room. Kevin manned his father’s other side. Though, how he managed to help anyone walk—let alone see where he was going with such a battered face—was a mystery.
“There,” Rossi said. “As you can see, your bride, as you call her, is well and unharmed.”
Unharmed, yes, and in far better condition than Kevin or her father, but her skin was pale and he’d bet she hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
Roman met her stare and willed her to understand. Begged her the only way he could to remain still and quiet.