23. Kat

23

Hidden behind one of the ornate, crumbling marble columns, I survey the old bank with disgust.

No current of fresh air stirs down on the crumbling lobby, lending the area a mildewy stench. Without the slightest traces of a draft, dust has piled up since the decrepit bank last was in business. Sooty leather chairs and shiny bullet casings litter the gold-veined, black marble floors.

After almost a decade of vacancy, most of the building has decayed into ruins, and even the paint is peeling from the walls.

Even though I put the pedal to the metal to get here, the drive still took the better part of an insufferable hour, seeming interminable at every mile of the road leading to the bank. With each passing minute, I became more and more convinced that I was going to be too late and Dmitri and his father would have already executed Nik by the time I managed to get to their location.

A dozen yards from where I stand, I spot movement under the glow of a dim overhead light fixture. A handful of men start to gather in somber silence. Members of the Seven Families, no doubt.

Careful not to make noise and denounce my presence, I remain hidden, watching. My plan's minuscule chances of success depend on A.J. and I having the element of surprise. Of course, all our efforts could be in vain if Nik is already dead. But I can't allow myself to go down that path just yet. I need to focus on what I can control right now.

Barely daring to breathe, I observe a small crowd of finely dressed men standing in a semicircle around the faint light. Behind them, more of the same decaying Corinthian marble columns loom. Inside their expensively made jackets, tucked underneath their waistbands or cleverly hidden around their ankles, the bulges of weapons of different sizes are unmistakable.

Was that the fate that awaited Nik? To be shot to death?

Only over my dead body.

The men's shifty eyes and shuffling feet denounce their uneasiness at being here. My guess is that they are not too eager to hang out in a dark room with their worst rivals.

A shiver runs down my spine as I study their hardened stares and the cruel glint in their eyes. I can't even begin to imagine the horrible things they'd do to me and A.J. if they got their hands on us… But I force myself to remain focused on my task and continue looking for signs of Nik, Dmitri and the stronzo. I can't afford any distracting thoughts or emotions right now.

My heart threatens to slam out of my chest, and my breath catches as I spot Dmitri and his repulsive father leading Nik to the area where the other men are gathered. Relief like I have never known before courses through me, and I have to steady myself against a marble column as my legs start to give out.

Nik is still alive.

Unshed tears pool in my eyes, but I manage to keep them at bay, quietly drying them and taking deep, calming breaths to keep myself from unraveling into a crying mess of a woman.

Thankfully, as Giuseppe Salvatore steps closer to the light, my anger returns a hundred times stronger than before. He hauls Nik to a spot under the dim spotlight while slickly smiling in triumph.

The proud way Nik carries himself almost hides the desolate look on his face, but I know him better than that. Even under the abysmal lighting, it's easy to tell he has given up hope.

I glance around the room, searching, until I find A.J. standing across the bank's lobby from me. With a slight nod to her, I move through the darkness in Nik's direction. From the corner of my eye, I see A.J. shifting into position.

Dmitri pulls Nik along through the group of men, who exchange uneasy glances with each other. Some even whisper words too soft for my ears to catch.

The stronzo grins widely as he pulls out a shiny revolver from the inside pocket of his bespoke suit jacket.

Nik knew this fate awaited him when he surrendered to Dmitri, and he still went through with it because he wanted to save me.

Dmitri maneuvers Nik into the center of the semicircle until they stand under the spotlight. Quite literally. My former friend stands behind Nik, and they both turn to face the stronzo.

One look at Nik's expression of resignation, and my heart shatters for the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours.

My eyes meet A.J.'s again, and she nods, giving me the sign I was waiting for just as the Italian boss smirks at Nik. "Don Stefanovich. Kneel before me."

Not in this lifetime.

A.J. kills the overhead lights while triggering the old building's fire alarm and sprinklers. On cue, the ear-splitting sound of police sirens echoes outside, and I fire my gun up in the air. It's the same pistol Nik gave me all those nights ago. On my way here, I found it in his glove box and thought it would add a poetic touch to this daring rescue.

Chaos, of course, ensues.

More gunshots follow, and my stomach churns as I anxiously hope for the best. It was clear from the start that this plan would require vast amounts of luck to work out. I can do nothing but hope that A.J., Nik, and I are not the target of a stray bullet.

Fortunately, my eyes adjust to the darkness in an instant, so I hasten to reach Nik, staying as close to the ground as possible. He is staring straight ahead, likely stunned by the cacophony of sounds and the sudden darkness A.J. unleashed upon us.

As I close the distance between the two of us, my gaze lingers on him, handcuffed and covered in gashes with his fine clothes sullied and torn.

Nik is so much better than these men. He has an undeniable, innate nobility about him that the others could never hope to achieve. Whatever lousy deeds my Russian may have committed throughout his years in the bratva, I have no doubts he had good, justifiable reasons for them.

I exhale with relief once I'm right behind him, touching his shoulder lightly. "Nik."

He stiffens, straining against his restraints. He swiftly turns to face me, and something like pure joy crosses his expression once his eyes land on me.

Almost instantly, that emotion and expression are followed by one I'm too familiar with. Nik makes no effort to disguise his unmistakable rage. As I could've guessed, he isn't thrilled that I'm risking myself to rescue him.

Well, tough luck, miliy.

"It's me," I say, panting with exertion. "Your very own knight in shining armor. Let's get out of here before your mafia buddies realize this daring rescue has been brought to them by me and my army of one."

Nik's eyes narrow at me. "You won't be able to sit for a week after I'm done spanking you for this stunt," he says through gritted teeth.

Delighted, I laugh. "Oh, Nik… Don't threaten me with a good time. Now, we have to go. No. Really. Let's go. Here, hold this. You know guns make me nervous."

Without another word, Nik takes the pistol from my hands to follow me as I lead the way. The frantic look in his eyes and the tense line of his jaw tell me all I need to know about his frazzled state of mind.

"I'm guessing there are no cops outside," he says, his disapproval plain and obvious.

"Nope. I'm afraid it's just A.J. and me, but Vladmir is on his way, for whatever that's worth. You know how I feel about that man." I shrug. "But I figured backup of some kind couldn't hurt. He was too far behind us for me to wait for him, though, so I devised a plan."

"A plan? You use that word too liberally, dusha moya."

Just hearing the Russian term of endearment, I have to restrain myself from wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him until we are both out of breath.

"I had resigned myself to never laying eyes on you again," Nik says in a hurt tone. "I hoped you would turn your back on me and go home without looking back. To hear your voice again, to see your face once more?—"

I sigh, melting completely. "Listen to me, Nik. For as long as I live, I will never turn my back on you again. Ever."

Nik angrily mutters something in Russian. I don't need to be fluent in the language to get the idea that it was a dirty, filthy curse. "Of all the stupid, foolish things, Kat… You shouldn't be here. Best-case scenario, you end up dead."

I scoff. "Don't be silly. Best-case scenario, I'll get you back. And as you should know by now, I deserve nothing but the very best."

Nik's dark brown eyes burn into mine, and it's obvious he's torn between the desire to kiss me and the urge to strangle me.

"Damn it, Kat. You shouldn't have come."

"Well, I'm here now, so let's focus on getting out of here so you can spend the rest of our days berating me for my recklessness, shall we?"

His immediate response is a pained groan, but I never get to find out what new form of outraged reprimand he planned to delight me with because the bane of my existence intercepts us. Giuseppe Salvatore, the stronzo, stands proud and indignant directly in front of us.

"Well, well, well. Look who stopped for a visit. Someway, somehow, I'm not surprised to see you had a hand in this charade, my dear Ms. Devereaux," he says with his best slimy smirk. "And you, Nikolai—what is it about you Russian men that you just can't resist meddling with the women who belong to your betters?"

"You are not his better," I say through gritted teeth. "And I will never belong to you."

"I guess we'll see about that, won't we? I'm assuming our friend A.J. is close by. What a merry gathering this is!" Salvatore sighs in feigned delight. "Why don't we go find her?"

"Leave her alone," I say as Nik gently pushes me behind his body.

"Don't worry, Kat. He'll leave us alone now," Nik says, rising to his impressive height. "He won't be bothering any of us anymore. Isn't that right, Salvatore? Not Kat, not A.J., not Dmitri."

"And why would I do that, Nikolai?" the horrid man asks mockingly. "Because you say so?"

Nik smiles his gigawatt grin, but his dark eyes remain cold. "Yeah. That's exactly right," he says. "Because I say so."

Without another word, Nik unflinchingly fires my gun between the stronzo's pale blue eyes.