Knowing what she was going to say, I pulled on my arm, jerking Mary forward slightly. She pulled right back. “Mary has decided to stubbornly refuse my protection.”
“Because Mary can take care of herself and doesn’t need an overbearing Russian barging into her life barking orders,” responded Mary curtly.
Yelena cast Damien a sour look. “Mary, if you need any tips on how to easily pick a handcuff lock, let me know.”
Damien laughed. “Just make sure you don’t need to do it quietly or quickly, or you’re fucked.”
Mary asked Yelena, “You don’t—by any chance—have a gun on you, do you?” Before turning to innocently bat her long black eyelashes at me.
The thwap, thwap, thwap of the helicopter interrupted our conversation, reminding us this wasn’t the time for pleasantries.
As Damien climbed the stairs with Yelena to the helipad, I took Mary into my arms. “Keep misbehaving, baby girl. I’m keeping a tally and trust me, you are going to feel the sting of my belt on that cute ass of yours when this is all over.”
Her brow furrowed. “You can’t honestly think you’ll still be my boyfriend after all this mess?”
I drove the fingers of my free hand into her sleek hair and pulled her face close. “Absolutely not, I’ll be your husband.”
I swallowed her gasp with a kiss, forcing my tongue between her lips, tasting her surprise. She may have thought I had forgotten about marriage after first mentioning it a week ago then quickly dropping the subject, but I hadn’t. I was now more determined than ever to have her as my own. In my world, a girlfriend or mistress was fair game for intimidation, but you stayed away from a man’s wife unless you wanted your entire existence burnt to the ground.
The shrill ring of my cellphone cut her retort off. I checked the screen and frowned. It was John, our helicopter pilot. I answered and cursed. “Baby, I need you to run. Now!”
With no time to unlock our handcuffs, I vaulted up the stairs after Damien and Yelena, calling out over my shoulder to Mary, “The pilot of the helicopter is not my man. Damien and Yelena are in danger.”
She kept pace with me as we ran up the stairs, down the hallway, and through the doors to the rooftop terrace. We screamed in unison and waved our free arms, raising the alarm.
Responding to our frantic shouts and motions, Damien turned and clung to the helicopter landing skids as gunfire from inside the helicopter rang out. They were trying to kill Damien so they could make their escape with Yelena who was trapped inside, but the glass was bulletproof. They only succeeded in causing large cracks in the glass.
The helicopter pitched and wobbled in the air till Damien lost his grip. Reaching for my gun, I called out to him as we ran across the rooftop. The moment he turned, I tossed the handgun to him. He caught it and turned, intending to fire and disable the helicopter, but it was too late. It was too high in the air. To fire at it now would only endanger Yelena.
Mary cried out as we all watched helplessly as the helicopter rose higher and higher, taking Yelena with it. “Oh, my God!” The enormity of what I was trying to avoid finally hit her. The danger she was in was real.
We walked toward Damien. I placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned on me, fists raised.
I stepped in front of Mary to protect her but was too late. In his grief-induced rage, he attacked me, the force of which knocked Mary to the ground.
Her pained cry brought out my own rage. After lifting her to her feet, I swung my free arm and clipped Damien on the jaw with my fist. The strike brought us both back to our senses.
Pulling Mary close, I cupped her chin and lifted her gaze to mine. “Are you okay, baby?”
She nodded. “Yes, I just fell on my shoulder, but I’m fine. He didn’t mean it, Vaska.”
I reached into my back pocket for the keys to the handcuffs, knowing they were no longer needed. “I know.” I unlocked the handcuffs and pulled her close again. Looking over the top of her head, I said to Damien, “I need to secure Mary. Then we’ll go.”
He protested, “I can’t wait that long.”
“You don’t know what you’re walking into there. We haven’t even confirmed who’s involved. They could still have a team of men on the premises.”
“It’s them. I know it. They have her, Vaska, and it’s my fucking fault. Do what you have to do to protect your girl, but I’m not waiting one fucking second to go after mine.”
Cradling her arm against her middle, Mary protested, “I’m not his girl, and I’m fine. Go with him.”
Giving her a glare to quell her protest, I said, “I’ll text you the address. I’m taking Mary to where Dimitri has Emma. After you learn all you can, meet us at the usual place. We’ll gear up with some firepower and go after the bastards.”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears. I could tell the stress of the last hour was wearing on her. “Vaska, I’m scared. I didn’t mean what I just said, please, I don’t want you to go, stay with me.”
I cursed under my breath. There was nothing I wanted more than to keep her by my side and reassure her that everything was going to be okay, that I would keep her safe, but I couldn’t. When you attacked one of us, you attacked all of us. Damien’s girl was in danger. He needed our help.
I kissed her gently on the forehead. “I promise. We have… ways… of convincing people to talk. We will learn where they have taken Yelena and get her back quickly. No one—no one—does something like this to us and gets away with it. You have nothing to fear. You and Emma will be safe and I swear to God, so will Yelena.”
“Let’s just call the police,” she begged.
I smiled. “That’s not how we handle things, krasotka.”
That was the best answer I could give her. To tell her we planned on hunting down the men who took Yelena and making them die slow and agonizing deaths would only traumatize her further.
And possibly convince her once and for all what a monster I truly was… I couldn’t let that happen.
Chapter 27
Mary
Leaving his fancy sports car in the garage, we drove off in a less flashy black Range Rover. Apparently the safehouse was in a quiet neighborhood, and Vaska didn’t want to attract attention by rolling up in a hundred-thousand-dollar Mercedes. Neither of us spoke the entire ride out of downtown Chicago to one of the northern neighborhoods. We turned onto a street lined with small two-story brick houses common throughout Chicago. Knowing what I did about safehouses only from the movies, I guess it was perfect. Each house looked identical and nondescript. In other words, none screamed super scary mafia shit happening in this house, which I guess was the point.
We circled around to the alley and parked in a free-standing garage. Vaska cautioned me to walk slowly and not to look around or appear anxious. Taking a deep breath, I slid my hand through his arm and did my best to appear calm and nonchalant as we navigated the old cement walkway, which was riddled with cracks and weeds, to the back door of the house.
Vaska rapped on the door with his knuckles. I was a little disappointed that it was an ordinary knock and not some kind of secret code double then single then double knock sort of thing. Within seconds, a large man who stayed out of sight in the shadows of the small mud room opened the door. Vaska placed his hand on my lower back and ushered me inside.