2-Stroke exhaled unevenly and shook his head. “No. Thanks. I need to get out of here for a while. Get some fresh air.” He needed to see Dean before everything went crazy and he didn’t get a chance. If something happened to either of them, this thing between them would be lost. He couldn’t handle the thought of not getting it out in the open. It was important that he know everything 2-Stroke was feeling right now.
He also needed to get away from here because Chry’s illness was out of his control and he couldn’t watch her suffer one more minute without losing it. He needed some activity.
Making a supreme effort, he turned and tried to smile at the woman and his teammate. “Thanks for helping,” he said, his voice thick.
He turned and headed for the door, not sure how much longer he could hang on to the rising pressure in his chest.
The control was out of his hands, and that scared the hell out of him.
He donned a hoodie and a leather jacket over it, one he’d found in the closet. Pulling up the hood, he slipped out the back door into the frigid night. Moving around to the front of the house, his senses were on full alert.
He stopped when he heard roaring in the distance. Sounded like powerful motorcycles. He stiffened. Russian-made? There were plenty of outlaw groups in the Soviet Union. What were they doing here in Banja Luka?
He opened the fence to the house and stepped onto the sidewalk and started for the heart of downtown. After going several blocks, he made it to the main thoroughfare. He stopped to get his bearings. The hotel housing his brother and the others who had come here to help him was to his right.
But several bikes parked along the street caught his attention. He pulled the hoodie closer around his face. It could be paranoia telling him that these guys might be looking for him and Chry. But just because he was paranoid didn’t mean he couldn’t be right.
He passed along the gleaming machines and caught sight of a bear claw. Kamchatka Bears, associated with the Kremlin and aligned with Republika Srpska, a would-be state born in bloodshed during the Balkan wars.
It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that Darko and Zasha had close ties to the government here. Darko was filthy rich and linked to many government leaders throughout The Balkans. It dawned on 2-Stroke that’s why they flew to northern Bosnia. It was precisely for the reason of keeping the Americans from rescuing them. All he had to do was make a phone call and the territory was closed to them.
The back of his neck was tingling, and he stopped dead when Arkadi Popov, nicknamed The Pope, stepped out of a nightclub with several other bikers. They were all dressed in black leather, covered in tats, a silver bear claw embossed on their matching jackets. The Pope, sporting a silver crucifix dangling from his thick neck, pulled on a pair of black riding gloves.
“I am displeased with your progress. Find the SEAL and the woman or deal with me,” The Pope said in Russian. 2-Stroke dropped his chin, well aware that if this group were looking for him, they would expect to find him in the company of a woman. Chry was back at the safehouse continuing her fight to beat off the infection from a bullet from the guy giving orders to these thugs. Darko.
He clenched his fists at the thought of the tall Serb, his hands itching to relentlessly pummel him. He dropped into a doorway and leaned against the frame, watching as the five of them straddled their bikes and started up the vehicles, adding to the already numerous motorcycle engines sounding all around him.
The Pope’s motorcycle club was out in force…all of them looking for signs of him and Chry. As soon as they pulled away from the curb, he turned and headed in the opposite direction back toward the hotel.
Stepping inside, he went for the elevators and pushed the button to Dean’s floor. At the next stop, the doors opened, and two bikers with the same silver bear claw got in. 2-Stroke stood in the back keeping his face averted, breathing a sigh of relief as they got off on the next two floors. No doubt meeting with others.
When the elevator stopped on Dean’s floor and the door opened, he stepped out. He walked down the hall, continuing to keep his face out of sight of the cameras. He had no idea what kind of surveillance the government had in this town, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.
When he reached the door, he knocked. There was a general movement, then a stillness from inside. “Dean. It’s me. Open up.”
Immediately, the door locks disengaged, and the door opened in a yank.
“Iceman,” 2-Stroke said in greeting to the man who acted as Dean’s second in command.
“2-Stroke,” Iceman said. “You look like hell, man.”
“Screw you,” 2-Stroke said as he passed Preacher and nodded. The dark-haired man grinned and nodded back.
“Good to see you, kid.”
“I’m not a kid,” he growled. Then out of one of the suite’s rooms, Alek rushed him and threw his arms around his waist. “You’re safe. It’s good to see you, my friend,” he gushed.
2-Stroke smiled, some of his anger subsiding in relief at seeing the young boy. He cupped the back of his head and hugged him back. “I’m happy to see you too.”
Alek looked up and beamed. “Your friends saved me from Darko. They can get me to the US? To my relative, yes?”
“We’ll do the best we can, kid,” Dean said.
Aella stepped up to him. “Neo, we’re glad you survived. You saved my life. Thank you.”
He nodded. “It might have been a better idea for you to have stayed in Sarajevo. If Darko catches any of you, he will kill you.”
“We came to help you,” Aella said.
“And you did. You should take Alek and get out. We’ll find our own way.”
Dean’s eyes flashed, and he walked away from the window to stand in front of him. “Give us some privacy,” Dean said to the group.
“We’ll go get some grub,” Preacher said, motioning to Alek, Saint, and Aella. “Come on, people.”
Iceman said, “Boss?”
“Go with them. It’s okay.” When the door closed, Dean said, “What’s going on, little brother?”
“What did you give up getting here? Your career? Everything you worked for thrown away when I can take care of myself.”
Dean shifted his stance and set his hands on his hips. “That’s ungrateful and immature, Neo, and you know it.”
“What, Dean? What did you give up?”
His brother took a step toward him, jabbing at him with his finger. “Everything! Is that what you want to hear?”
2-Stroke gave him an exasperated huff, his jaw clenching. “I’m not looking for what I want to hear. I’m looking for short and to the point. So, spit it out. You came after me for a reason, and I’m sure it has more to do with our past than it has to do with you saving and protecting me and Chry.”
Dean swore and turned away, then turned back. “I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, and I wasn’t going to leave my brother to die at the hands of those bastards. The brass might take my trident, but I couldn’t live with standing around while my brother was tortured and killed. So, sue me.”
2-Stroke narrowed his eyes and stared at the back wall, trying to corral his anger. He had expected this, and it only made him sick at what Dean was going to lose, but he had to acknowledge that he would have done the same for his brother. “So, you threw away your career for me?”