Chapter Twenty-Four: Andrei

Bruno and Christopher weren’t smart enough to take Sophia to a place that was off the map. The place they took her was right under everyone’s nose. Fuming, it cuts me to the bone in a way that shocks me. She’s all alone, probably only Ava will be looking for her….

Dimitri calls me five minutes later with the location and a plan. “They’re keeping her on Parkview Boulevard in Flowerfield.”

“There? Fools. Meet me out front in ten with ammo, I’ll bring the team,” I direct, Makar with me in the office as I open the side panel where I keep an emergency stash of guns for situations like this.

I hand him an AK-47, while I put on my bulletproof vest. Makar and I suit up silently like clockwork, already knowing the drill. “If they hurt her, Makar.”

“I know, Boss, I know. We’re going to get her out of there.” He slaps me on the back as the rest of my associates stream into the office and I hand off guns and bombs one by one. We run a tight operation and everyone I need is rounded up in less than fifteen minutes.

Dimitri is out front with his own team. “I have a master plan. They’re going to know we’re coming. Bruno is a Mafia boss. He has some degree of smarts.”

Staring at him for a second, I nod, not having the time to go over the finer details with him.

“Let’s roll out. This place is a house, and from the floor plan, it looks like it’s got two floors. Leave no stone unturned to find her. Likely they have her in the basement. Be prepared to shoot to kill. Oh, and you’re part of my team, so I expect all of you to come out alive, but if you don’t, know that this is the Bratva. Long live the brotherhood!”

“The brotherhood!” my associates cry out in unison as we pile into the black SUV. Traffic is smooth, and it’s one less burden to deal with, but I am pushing limits on the freeway, wanting to get to Sophia.

“We’re close.” I study the map, the red dot pulsing on the screen of my cell phone. “It’s on the right, and it’s got a gate. Vikir, use the detonator.” Vikir is good for a break and enter. Makar crawls forward as the driver stops a block back from the gate and a couple of my men get out to ensure there’s no interference. We’re taking a gamble because it’s still daylight.

“Back soon.” Dressing in all black, I watch as the nimble Vikir takes his duffel bag to the gate, placing a detonator bomb on the gate itself. Who needs a number?

“This should be fun,” Makar says, a smile on his face, one I don’t match. There’s nothing to smile about for me as I think back to the hotel and what I should have done. Sophia made me soft in the heat of the moment and that’s what I feared might happen, but it’s too late to cry over spilt milk. Vikir steps back into the middle of the street with a tiny black box. He pulls a lever. A plume of smoke and tangerine lights up the sky as I hear the gate whine as its hinges break.

“Perfect. That’s our cue.” Vikir runs back, slinging the van door open as we advance forward, and I accelerate to the front door. I don’t see why the place is gated. It’s only a middle-class weatherboard house, nothing special located in a quiet semirural area, and the rest of the houses are a good distance apart.

Cutting the engine, I don’t see any lights on, but I know they’re in there. Wanting only to kill, thinking about what Chris might have already done to her, I vow to keep my head. If I don’t, I won’t be successful in rescuing Sophia. Makar and I sneak up the two flights of stairs as two of my men duck low, heading over to the window to check inside.

My chest heaves as I flatten my back against the front door, Makar doing the same on the other side. I see Dimitri working from outside the house, his car at the bottom of the driveway. I trust him. His plans never fail. Ever. “There’s movement,” one of my guys reports back as I bite down on my bottom lip, while Makar picks the lock in record time.

With my gun cocked and only the few men I brought with me in tow, our eyes adjust to the dark, moving through the foreign territory, switching on the lights as we skulk from room to room. Keeping my eyes trained for any sudden movements, we receive our rude awakening when we reach the living room.

Like ants, men emerge from behind the big-screen TV, another room, the kitchen, and from behind the couch. Shit. They flock around us, their guns cocked at our heads. We’re outnumbered. Fuck. It’s a risk, but if we fire back, we run the risk of all of us winding up dead. Taking stock of the situation, sweat drips from my body; Makar waits with his back to mine. We know when it’s best to surrender.

“Don’t move,” one of them commands, but I can’t see his face. It’s masked along with the other cowards.

“Okay, okay, don’t shoot. Easy,” I say carefully, wondering how many of them I can take. Makar shakes his head, understanding what I’m assessing. Feeling out of control, all I want is to know Sophia and the baby are alright. Seconds later, I get my wish as Bruno and Christopher carry Sophia out, and I scan her to see if her body’s marked in any way.

Locking eyes with her, I try to send her a message that everything’s going to be fine, but it doesn’t compute. “Are you okay?” I ask her as they set her down in the chair.

Nodding with a sense of hopelessness, she belts out, “Andrei, just run.” Shocked by her sacrifice and the baby’s, I shake my head as Chris and Bruno stand next to her chair.

“Your lady has it worked out.” Bruno laughs, and automatically I imagine sending a kill shot right through his skull, but instead I hold my ground. I’m not backing down or going anywhere.

Makar pivots keeping his hands up. “Oi! What the fuck are you doing? Quit moving!” Bruno shouts, but a microsecond later, I see why he does it.

Shots ring out in the air as a hail of bullets shatter the front window, hitting one of the masked men, dropping him. One more goes soon after, falling forward, toppling over the couch, confusing Bruno and Chris. “What the fuck?” Chris sings out as the next man goes down, a shot coming from the kitchen side of the house.

With lightning precision, every enemy falls, leaving only Chris, Bruno, and Sophia. Squeezing my trigger, I swing around, firing a shot that hits its bullseye. Bruno’s hands instinctively raise to his chest where I’ve left a bullet hole in the heart. Welcome to America and Chicago, the home of the Bratva. The problem is there’s no more enemy left standing, and he needed to go to. Makar squeezes off a shot, but it blows out wide, hitting the wall behind him, the plaster caking off the wall in large chunks.

“Shit!” Makar calls out, but I’m focused on who has Sophia in their hands now. Christopher is brandishing a large hunting knife near her neck, holding it in place. Sophia’s eyes are wild with terror, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she’s got every chance of survival. Every four of my men are laser focused on Christopher, their guns all aiming at him.

He’s in an awkward position, holding the knife to her neck with Sophia staring at it. Bad positioning on his part, but with the corner of the next room’s wall between us, I don’t think Dimitri and his sniper team have clear access to pull off a shot.

Steadying my breath, my only concern is keeping Sophia calm. I want her to know Christopher is not getting out of here alive. No way. No how. “Bad shot, bitch,” Chris replies jerkily, laughing hysterically in Makar’s direction. “I expected better from you,” Chris taunts, enough sweat gathered on his forehead for his hair to be stuck to it.

“Put the knife down, Chris. The game is up,” I declare in an even tone.

“Oh ho, no it’s not, baby. The game is just getting started, and Mrs. Utkin is about to be the star of the show.” His tongue hangs out of his mouth, the flow of adrenaline spiking in my veins. My men do as they’re trained to do, holding him hostage with the barrel of their guns in a stand-off.

“What can you do from here?” Makar chimes in, stepping forward lightly, but Chris is so hyperaware, he catches on to the tactic immediately.

“Fucking stay back!” he screams, squinting as the knife wiggles underneath Sophia’s neck, breaking skin, and a small droplet of blood appearing. Yelping, more from shock than pain, she calls out.

“Chris stop!”

“Shut up. Shut up! If you touch me, I’m touching her. You, see? You hurt me, I hurt her,” he rushes out. And from what I’m seeing, he might be just crazy enough to do it. The stench of death hangs in the air as Makar nods his head, his eyes narrowed.

“Alright. We won’t come any closer,” I tell him. “But what now?”

Sophia connects to me with her eyes, almost as if she’s speaking with them. Trusting her, I hold her gaze, and it’s almost as though her eye color changes to a deep forest green. Noticing Christopher’s arm is trembling from holding it under Sophia’s throat, the probability is he won’t be able to keep it there for much longer without wavering.

I wait. We wait. But Sophia, she has an idea. I’m connected to her and can feel she’s got a plan. The world stops spinning momentarily as she takes the ultimate risk while Christopher assesses his limited pathway out of the house. Sweet timing. Sophia hops her chair away from him, giving her enough leverage to kick out her leg and swing hard into his groin.

The blow causes Christopher to blow out his cheeks, his hands automatically dropping to his likely swollen nuts. Sophia’s objective has been achieved as he drops the knife, the sharp object bouncing on the floor.

“Fucking bitch!” Christopher groans, my men clambering to jump on him and pinning him to the floor as the pace of my heart taking time to settle.

“Are you okay?” I ask as one of them unties the thick ropes from her hands so she can get free. She runs forward, tripping, but getting to her feet and walking forward to me, but she doesn’t answer my question. She looks woozy as I catch her in my arms. “That was a nice move back there,” I compliment, worried about her as her eyes start to roll back in her head.

“I don’t feel so good,” she whispers, her eyes shutting down.