Kidnapped By the Mob (Miami Mafia 2) - Page 30

Chapter23

In between the location texts, Alek would send me encouraging texts like,


This is a fucking mistake


And


You better not fucking die

And, my personal favorite,


Fuck


That one really summed up a lot of my feelings. It was also the one he sent after Borya’s tracking dot stopped moving. They’d gotten to wherever their destination was.

I talked a big game about waiting for Alek’s backup to arrive. But if I suspected Borya was in imminent danger, I couldn’t stay back and do nothing. That wasn’t who I was. I could only wish that they were planning on attempting some stupid brainwashing technique again, or something that would delay them long enough to get him out alive. He could be dead right now for all I knew, but I refused to think like that. If they killed him, they would’ve tossed his body in any of the numerous swamps we’d driven past through the panhandle. The only reason they’d keep him this long was if they wanted him alive.

Right?

That was what I kept telling myself as I continued the drive. Except after the updates from Alek stopped, I was alone with my thoughts. That’s when my nerves kicked up. What the hell was I going to do when I found him? This wasn’t some drunk in a trailer like when my dad was on a bender. And when he was back on heroin, he was nothing more than a zombie who could be evaded with a fast dodge.

These were grown-ass, sober, dangerous and armed men.

When Alek told me to stay back until help arrived, those weren’t empty words. And Borya wouldn’t want me to run in all halfcocked.

It was killing me because I knew I needed an actual plan to free Borya, but I couldn’t stop my speeding off towards him. I couldn’t look for any weapons, or plan a way in, or think of a distraction.

I knew from the GPS that we were going to a subdivision. So, he was in a house. Not what I was expecting, but it meant he would be in a smaller room. I might be able to jimmy a window open and sneak him out.

If I could get enough guys away from him, I might be able to stand a chance.

That was a big fucking “if” though. I kept going through the possibilities. Thinking of ways to save Boyra might be stupid, but it was the only thing keeping me from worrying about him being dead, and I needed that right now.

I was pumped full of adrenaline by the time I reached the subdivision, to the point that my entire body was shaking, and my breath was coming out in small pants. I was a nervous wreck, and at this point, I was almost grateful I didn’t have a gun.

I was also grateful for something else. This wasn’t just a subdivision; this was new construction. There was no one else around, and I should be able to find something to help with Borya.

Daisy and I had spent plenty of time roaming around construction sites as kids, so I knew enough to be dangerous. And I for sure knew how to break into a trailer. After kicking one of the back windows in a few vulnerable places, I was able to crawl in and turn on a light.

Once I was in the main office, turned on the computer, which gave me access to the cameras throughout the construction zone.

Back when I was younger, they sure as hell didn’t have cameras all over. But I guess they’re cheaper and easier to install now. I flipped through a few of the screens until I found the best angle to view the one partially built house with activity in it. Since it wasn’t completed yet, that meant I would be able to get inside.

If necessary, I reminded myself. I’d promised Alek that I would stay out of the way as long as possible.

That being said, I looked over the map of the site and noted where the supply shed was—just outside the foreman trailer.

I was able to leave out the door and collect what I might need (and hopefully not use), before getting back into my car. Thanks to the map, I knew where I could park and not be seen.

Now I’d just check on Borya. Make sure he was okay and then wait for Alek. That was all.

It was still the middle of the day, so sneaking wouldn’t be easy. There were two SUVs parked in front of the new construction and a big windowless van. I was growing to hate windowless vans.

I moved slowly and stuck to the edges. I stayed in the neighboring yard as long as possible before heading into the back and finally reaching the rear wall of the house.

From there, I sucked in deep gulps of humid air and let my heart slow back to semi-reasonable levels.

I wasn’t going to be good to anyone if I hyperventilated and passed out in the backyard.

From there I started inching around to the windows, going one by one until I finally saw him.

My Borya. He was crumpled on the ground, a mixture of bruises and blood. I was sure he was unconscious, but his eyes popped open, immediately proving me wrong. Our gazes connected and my heart leapt into my throat. I held my breath, willing him not to give my position away.

But then he rolled on his back and stared up at the celling as though I wasn’t even here. Maybe he didn’t see me.

No. His eyes had for sure connected with mine. He was drawing attention away from the window.

This was good. I verified that he was here and alive and now I could wait until backup arrived.

That’s when another man walked into the room. He slid off his suit jacket and carelessly tossed it onto the ground before rolling up his cuffs.

He started speaking in Russian, but Borya didn’t respond. Then two more men appeared behind the first.

It was becoming apparent that I wasn’t going to have time to wait for backup of any sort.

What were they going to do?

The man in charge said more Russian before Borya responded by spitting at his feet.

And that’s when the three of them started the beating.

I tore myself away from the window and bit into my fist to keep from screaming out. Screw backup. He was going to die if they kept that up.

I couldn’t stay back and do nothing.

Besides, I already had a plan B. Chances both Borya and I would survive were slim, but I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

If our places were reversed, he would move hell and earth to get to me.

So, it was time for me to bring hell to these Black Thorn bastards.

Tags: Mallory Crowe Miami Mafia Crime
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