Nikolai (The Romanovs Book 1) Page 12

  My vision sharpens on his knife. Despite his playful cockiness, my cousin the computer nerd is just as much of a killer as I am. He was raised in a killer’s household, and while Grandfather might be grooming him for other things, every Romanov knows how to take a life.

  “Why did you let him have her?” I swallow, not in fear, but because my mouth is dry. How long have I been out?

  My cousin gives me a look, then pops a slice of apple into his mouth, taking his time as he chews and swallows. “I had no choice. I couldn’t take you and her at the same time. He would have become suspicious.”

  “Viktor assured me that the financier planned to kill Everly should I not perform the task at hand,” I say through clenched teeth. “How did you get me out of there? I can’t imagine Viktor not confirming my death.”

  “He thinks I’m on his side and trusted me to dispose of your body.”

  “His side for what?”

  “Viktor’s working with someone who promises him that he will be his second in power. Rather crafty, if you ask me. No one goes after the bloke who’s second in command. Apple?” He holds out a slice to me, knife in his grip. I could take it from him in an instant and slice his throat. He knows this. He knows many things, some of which I do not, including the full story of how he was able to bring me here.

  “No.” I look around the room. It’s old, but not in disrepair. There are dozens of computer screens displaying codes or live camera shots hanging above a large table covered in keyboards and empty bottles of water. A large black chair is in the middle of it all. Command central, I suppose. “Where are we?”

  “Berlin. One of my safe houses. It’s been forty-eight hours since you were shot.”

  Panic flows like ice through my veins. My hands fist. “And Everly?”

  “Also in Berlin.”

  “At least there is that.” My jaw works.

  “She’s unharmed, Nikolai. The last time I checked on her, she was still under the assumption Viktor and his team were the good guys.”

  The last time he checked… Jesus. “He will get nothing from her. Nothing. She knows less than nothing—only what I’ve told her.”

  Ben’s eyes are knowing as they rake over me. “You really do care about her, don’t you?”

  “I care about her safety. I’m the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.” I swing my legs off the bed, smoothing down my shirt and frowning at the drops of blood. Tentatively, I touch my head as I stand. Dizziness has me swaying, and my hands grasping at thin air.

  “Head wounds are a son of a bitch, yeah?” Ben jumps to his feet, steadying me.

  I grab Ben, twisting his shirt with my fist and putting my face millimeters from his. “Do. Not. Play. Games. With. Me.”

  My cousin’s eyes widen fractionally, but I know it’s not because he’s afraid of me. No, it’s because I’m not composed.

  But I’m past giving a damn.

  “I’m on your side, Roman. Always have been, always will be.”

  “Blyad,” I mutter. Letting go of the material, I shove him away and stumble to the bed.

  “If you recall, I was the one who helped you recover the last time you were shot.”

  I sit down, exhaling against the sudden pounding in my head. “You were ordered to.”

  “Was I?” He goes back to his apple, slicing and eating it as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “In any case, Everly thinks you are—were—a double agent gone bad. He also told her that she was to be your next victim, once you were done with her.”

  Is he serious? I could never be done with Everly, but I did have another rather large problem—bad reputation notwithstanding. “To her, I’m dead.”

  “Shall we leave her with Viktor then?” Ben cocks his head to one side, studying my reaction like a good little assassin. “Perhaps he’ll let her go. After all, you say she knows less than nothing.”

  Terror gives way to raw fury. “I won’t leave her with him. Would you leave the woman you…” I grind my teeth together at the unexpected rush of emotion that I feel at the thought of never seeing her again. Never touching her soft skin or seeing her smile. “…were responsible for with that cold-blooded bastard?”

  Ben lets out a thick sigh, as if my response has disappointed him. “I would not. Yet, it is in your best interest to remain dead.”

  “How so?”

  Ben smiles slowly, and in that smile I see myself. Never again will I underestimate my cousin. “A dead man can’t be killed.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Kidnap her.”

  I grunt. “Do you really think that will work?”

  “It worked in Prague,” he reminds me. The little shit.

  Slicing my gaze to the monitors, I consider Ben’s surveillance system…and his cockiness.

  “When do we leave?” I ask. My body is amped up, ready to do murder.

  “In twelve hours. You need a bit more rest—and most of the guards have plans to leave by then, since Viktor thinks he won’t need them anymore.” With a grin, he hands me a gun that I didn’t see him grab. “Don’t worry, Nikolai. We will get her back.”

  “I’m not worried.” Tucking the gun away, I look at him. “Viktor, however, should be very afraid.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ben parks the car along the street of an East Berlin district known for housing skinheads, and waves away the prostitutes that wander over to us.

  “One block up is our target,” he says, cutting the engine. “Do you remember the plan?”

  “Are you serious?” I pull on a pair of black leather gloves.

  “You did get shot in the head two days ago.”

  “Shut up.” I get out of the car. “It was just a flesh wound.”

  Unlike in the rest of Berlin, very few people are walking about or shopping here. Only a handful of shops are open. Most are empty. Deserted.

  Ben joins me on the sidewalk and we start walking quickly to the nearest alleyway. The tall buildings block out the afternoon sun, and the air is musty smelling. Trash litters the ground—broken bottles, hypodermic needles, and the occasional condom.

  A dog barks in the distance. A woman screams, and a baby cries.

  “Almost there,” Ben says. “I took out their security system earlier this morning and replaced it with looped footage of what it’s supposed to be seeing.”

  “I thought that only worked in movies.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Ben admonishes. “Try saying good job, Ben.”

  He has a point. I wouldn’t have done that; I would have gone in, guns blazing, and taken out every man in my way, possibly forcing Viktor’s hand. “Good job, Ben.”

  Stopping in the middle of the alley, he gives me a hug. “I’m so proud of you for using your words instead of resorting to grunts.”

  I shove him away. “Be proud another time. Everly needs me.”

  Rolling his eyes, he flips open a battered-looking box and punches in a code on a formerly hidden keypad. The door swings open slightly. “Let’s go.”

  We jog down the hallway, encountering no one. It is strangely silent. Just as I begin to think that Viktor has left, I hear a woman scream. The fine hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I break out into a dead run, uncaring of who hears me.

  “Damn it, Nikolai. Fucking wait,” Ben shouts, his footsteps echoing with mine.

  Two men appear out of nowhere, guns aimed. Two bullets whiz past my head and the men slump to the ground.

  “Bal’shoye spaseeba,” I say to Ben, who is now running alongside me. Thank you very much.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  I flip him off and he laughs at me.

  As we pass, I tap them each in the head with one more round to help speed things along.

  I come skidding to a halt when a door bursts open and four more men rush into the hallway. They are unknown to me. Viktor has gone beyond our circle and has employed his own, just as my cousin warned me on the car ride over.

 
“Go get Everly. I’ll take care of them,” he shouts, throwing a canister at them. Smoke pours out, making my eyes water and nearly rendering me sightless. I run in the opposite direction.

  A man shouts in the distance—Viktor.

  A woman screams back at him—Everly. She sounds enraged. This is good. A pissed-off Everly is an alive Everly.

  Slowing down, I force myself to take my time getting to her. The room where she is being held is only steps away.

  The floor creaks. I bite back a curse.

  “Nikolai, why don’t you join us?” Viktor says.

  “Stop it,” Everly chokes out. “Stop messing with my mind like that.”

  Gun raised, I enter the room. Everly is facing the other way, but Viktor—the bastard—is staring right at me. His eyes widen in surprise. He was messing with her mind.

  I take in the room. It’s dark, but for a single light shining on Everly. Her hands are bound at the wrist, pulled tight behind the chair. There are bruises on her arms.

  “Down to seven lives now?” he asks.

  “Please stop.” She begins to weep. The sound rips at my heart, but I can’t react. Not yet. “I told you I don’t know anything.”

  “She’s right,” I say and her head jerks up. “As I informed you many times, Viktor, I told her nothing.”

  “Roman,” she says, trying to get a good look at me.

  “I am here. No games, love.”

  Viktor shakes his head. “But they are so much fun to play.”

  “You are one sick fuck.” I take aim at his head.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “You’re not me.” I fire the gun, but he shoves Everly backward at the same time. I move to catch her, turning the chair to one side as I trip Viktor. He falls on his face, hitting the floor with a groan and a thud.

  Pulling out my knife, I cut through her bonds, put the blade away, and then help her up. Finally, she looks up at me and I want to tear him apart with my bare hands. Her lip is split and there is a dark bruise on her cheek, another cut above her eye and a gash on her forehead. “You put your hands on her, you bastard. For that you will pay.”

  Everly is half dazed as she gazes at me.

  “Stay here, solnyshko.”

  “It is you,” she says, and I kiss the top of her head.

  “Of course it is.” Then I stride to Viktor and kick him, sending his body rolling. I wait until he attempts to get up before kicking him again, this time in the face.

  He coughs and grunts, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth.

  “I am unarmed,” he says and then spits.

  “So is she,” I say.

  He holds up one hand. “This was for your own good. She was becoming a distraction. You stopped taking jobs because of her.”

  I punch him in the mouth, knocking loose a few teeth and giving him a busted lip identical to Everly’s. Pulling out my knife again, I open it with a flick of my wrist, just the way he taught me.

  No doubt he thinks he will win tonight.

  Blood running down his neck, he gazes up at me. “No piece of ass is worth—”

  I slice his skin open above his left eye. He grunts in pain. “Your anger is driving you. You will lose, Koyla. You have no idea who set this in motion. No one can be trusted, not even Benjamin.”

  Grabbing his arm, I hoist him to his feet and twist his elbow sharply to the right. He growls, breathing hard through the pain he must feel.

  “I will win,” I snap. Lifting the knife for him to see, I thrust the blade into his gut, twisting it.

  He threads his fingers in my hair, yanking until my eyes water. “Wrong spot,” he pants. “I taught you better than that.”

  I press my gun against his throat. “Is this the right spot?” Dragging it up his neck, I shove the gun in his mouth. “Or is this better?”

  His black eyes widen, even as more blood drips down his forehead. “An easy death is too good for you.” Quickly, I shoot him in each knee, and then the lower abdomen, right beside where my knife is sticking out, hilt first. He falls to the floor howling in pain and cursing me, much like Petrov had done.

  “I wanted you to join us,” he coughs, blood bubbling out of his mouth.

  Aiming for the center of his forehead, I set my jaw. “Go to hell.” Then I pull the trigger. Blood and detritus spatter on the wall behind him.

  Everly screams and then falls silent.

  Ben skids into the room. “We have to go.” He nods in Everly’s direction and I turn. She’s like a statue from my worst nightmare, pale and unmoving, but for her eyes. They are wide with terror. She has seen everything. She has watched me take a man’s life right in front of her.

  I start in her direction and she jumps, cowering into the corner. The pitiful sight nearly sends me to my knees. After shoving my gun into my holster, I hold up my hands. “It’s over, love. No one will hurt you now.”

  “You’re alive,” she whispers, after what seems like an eternity.

  “Everly,” I rasp, reaching for her. “My solnyshko.”

  A hard slap to my cheek sends my head snapping to the right. “How dare you.” She punches me in the stomach, surprisingly strong for a woman in her condition, and I let out a small oof. “Why did you lie to me? Why did you bring me here and let me think…” Balling her fist, she pulls back and lets it fly, but I capture it before she can make contact.

  Her eyes flash like emeralds in the sun, bright like fire in an otherwise drab room. “Let go of me.”

  “Like this.” I reposition her thumb. “Otherwise, you’ll hurt yourself.”

  Another slap, but I’m too numb to feel a damn thing. “I already hurt,” she shouts. “He hurt me, but you hurt me worse.”

  I make no move to defend myself. I allow her to pummel me, forcing my gaze on her face. Tears get caught in her lashes and run out of the corners of her eyes. “Damn you, Roman. Nikolai. Damn you.”

  She splays her hands on my chest, her head falling against me as her fingers tighten and grab the material of my coat. Carefully, I put my arms around her, whispering nonsense words in Russian, until she stops crying.

  “We need to go, but you have to close your eyes.”

  “Why?” She sniffs.

  “Trust me…you don’t want to see what’s in the hallway.”

  She hesitates. I know she will never trust me again, but she obviously needs me to escape this hellhole. Finally, her eyes flutter closed. “What happens now?”

  “We leave this place.” This time we’re going to the house I keep on the outskirts of the city, and not back to Ben’s apartment.

  Ben catches my eye and he tips his chin up at me. “Later, cuz.”

  A small nod is my only reply, before I turn my attention to the trembling woman in my arms. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The silence is nearly overpowering as Everly and I travel to a house I own on the outskirts of Berlin. The heavy weight that should have lifted once she was out of immediate danger has only grown more oppressive, like being slowly smothered with a wet blanket.

  I reach for her hand, but she jerks it away and leans closer to the car door. My hand remains in the air for far longer than I want to acknowledge before grabbing the wheel of the car again.

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “No.”

  “Are you hungry, thirsty… Did he let you sleep?”

  “The first day he did.”

  “Did he…”

  “Other than to hit me, neither he nor the men with him touched me, if that’s what you want to know.” She turns to me as we slow down at the modern gates guarding the centuries-old mansion. I make a quick call and they open.

  “Does that make you feel better? To know I’m not damaged goods?”

  “Hell yes, it makes me feel better, but only because I know that’s one less thing you have to come back from.” I pull the car forward and the gates close behind us. “Do not make the mistake of trivializing my concern for you.�
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  “Must be nice,” she says and my knuckles turn white. I have the steering wheel in a death grip. Never before have I been so enraged, never before have I lost so much.

  “Must be nice?” I growl, parking the car. “Must be nice?” I turn to face her, my jaw clenching. “There are a multitude of emotions running through me at this moment, but nice is not one of them.”

  She shrinks away from me, and I take a deep breath before getting out of the car. I briskly walk to her side and open the door as one of my staff greets us. It is Gustav, a man who has worked for me for years. He doesn’t blink at the sight of blood, or the fact that Everly looks as though she’s gone a couple of rounds in the ring.

  “Your rooms are ready. Should you require anything further, we are at your disposal, sir.”

  “Thank you, Gustav,” I say and follow him into the house.

  For some reason, Everly allows me to touch her, when I expected her to fight me. I take her to my room first, dismissing Gustav with a slight nod. “Shall we get you cleaned up?”

  Everly makes a noise, one that I assume is consent when she allows me to guide her inside my bedroom. As soon as we walk inside the bathroom, I release her to fetch my supplies from beneath a marble-topped cabinet.

  “You might need stitches for the gash in your forehead.”

  She says nothing at first, just looks at me, the room, and then in the mirror. “Okay.”

  Running warm water in the sink, I add a bit of soap and toss in a soft cloth to soak in it. “You need to get out of your clothes, love.”

  She hesitates, and then unsteady hands go to her tattered sweater’s hem. Gently, I push them away and undress her myself. In a matter of seconds she’s standing in nothing but her bra and panties. The vivid bruises on her pale skin are obscene in the bright lights.

  “Good God, sweetheart.” I close my eyes. “What you have endured.”

  “The water is about to overflow,” she says and I spin around, opening my eyes.

  Turning off the water, I wring out the washcloth. “Come here, please.”

  Stiffly, she crosses the small space between us, wincing as I begin to wipe the dried blood from her wounds. When I dip the cloth in rubbing alcohol and make another pass, her eyes fill with tears. But other than the initial hiss of pain, she doesn’t react at all. This is not good. Not good in the least.