Don’t kill him. Do not kill him. “Don’t ever speak her name ever again. That’s also part of the deal.” I slip the key into the lock and turn it. “Good luck in your new business, Dimitri.” I pull the door open fast, swinging it around to meet the side of the container and putting myself behind it, out of sight.
And out of the firing line.
When I hear the first shot, I smile.
The container jolts against my back from all the boots hitting the floor, all running forward and showing themselves. Then it’s like a fucking firework display as machine guns ring out and the sound of a missile sailing through the air whistles loudly. I hear the panic. I hear Nox roaring at his men to run for cover. And then I hear the explosion. I close my eyes and relax against the metal of the container, like I could be listening to an opera with a cigar and brandy in my hand. My only regret in this moment is that I didn’t get to see Nox’s face when he found the Russians in the container instead of his guns.
“More,” a man shouts, a Russian man, undoubtedly indicating the track where more of Nox’s men are appearing, coming to investigate the bedlam. More shots. More explosions.
I pull my phone from my pocket and type out a text to Rose.
* * *
I’m taking a break from the office.
Let’s get married next week.
I hate you.
Chapter 28
ROSE
* * *
The soles of my feet are sore from all the pacing. Upstairs, downstairs, into the kitchen, his office. My circling only got worse when I found Brad and Ringo. Danny went alone. Brad, like me, is furious. But he refused to tell me where Danny’s gone or what he’s doing. Seeing Nox, yes, but alone? Ringo had to pry my clawed fingers from the front of Brad’s shirt when I lost my temper, demanding he tell me. He didn’t.
Now, I’m staring down at a text message from Danny, and though it should make my pulse race with excitement, my heart has taken on a nervous thrum. Something doesn’t feel right. My thumb finds its way to my mouth, and I chew my nail like a starved animal, thinking. Thinking. Thinking. I watch from the top of the stairs as Brad and Ringo cross the hallway, both quiet, heading for the kitchen.
I move quickly but quietly on light feet, down the stairs to Danny’s office. As soon as I enter, I go to his desk and start tugging drawers open, rummaging through the contents. There has to be something. A man like Danny Black, he must keep a . . .
My thoughts trail off as my hand rests on something cold and hard, and my breath tugs in my throat as I pull it from beneath some papers. I stare down at the gun. It’s heavy, feels alien, but I have no time to waste getting used to it. I march to the kitchen and enter, disengaging the safety. The sound silences the room, pulling Brad, Ringo, and Esther to face me. Brad’s face will be one I’ll never forget—somewhere between shock and disgust. “What are you doing?”
“Take your guns from your belts and put them on the floor.” I aim at Brad’s chest, my serious eyes on his face. “Do it.”
“You’re going to shoot me?” He laughs.
“If I have to.”
“Rose, don’t be—”
I aim above his head and fire, shutting him the hell up, before re-aiming at his chest. His stare widens, all three of them ducking. “Guns,” I prompt.
Both men reach for their belts slowly, one hand up in surrender. Part of me is hurt that they clearly think I’m capable of such a cold-blooded act. But part of me is thankful. They still don’t trust me. Right now, that’s good.
They slowly lower their guns to the floor. “Easy, Rose,” Ringo says, kicking his to the side.
I gather up their weapons and slip them into my bag. “Now take me.”
Brad looks at Ringo. Ringo looks at Brad.
My patience begins to fray. “I know you know where he’s meeting Nox. Something isn’t right. I can feel it.”
Brad takes a moment. Shakes his head. Sighs. Pulls his phone from his pocket and hits the screen a few times before tucking it away. Then he stalks forward, passing me. “Fuck it, I wanted to go anyway.”
I blink, surprised by how easy that was. “That’s it?” I question, running after him as Ringo follows me.
Brad sweeps the keys up off the table in the hall and opens the front door. “Yes, but I’m having my gun back.” He swipes my bag from my shoulder and rifles through, pulling out his own and chucking Ringo’s to him. “Fuck knows what we could be walking into. Get in the car.”
I do as I’m bid immediately, aware that my plan could be foiled at any moment by either men swiftly and expertly disarming me and putting me back in the house. Yet, part of me knows that Brad is just as worried as me. He drives fast but carefully, and the silence is so fucking loud.