26. Alfie

26

ALFIE

V incent grips the grab handle in the passenger seat of my Bugatti as I take a curve at nearly a hundred miles an hour. I know it’s not the best plan of action, but I can’t just sit in New York City waiting for Salvatore to come get me—not when Mika could be in danger. Based on Dominik’s threat, combined with the fact that Ottavio isn’t picking up his phone, I know something’s wrong. What’s worse is I also sent Nina upstate to better protect her—and the helicopter still hasn’t returned. Both of the women I care about most in the world could be in the hands of a madman right now if the reinforcements I sent up to protect them didn’t arrive in time.

That’s why Vincent and I are on the road alone, and judging by the death grip he has on my car, I’d say we’re going faster than he would prefer, but I refuse to take my foot off the gas pedal. I can’t stop the horrible feeling that I won’t make it in time—that Dominik’s right and I’ll be too late to stop whatever Nikolai has planned. The younger Kapranov wouldn’t tell me what it is, and that makes the anxiety so much worse.

“Call Marco again,” I growl, keeping my eyes locked on the road as I blast past a sign telling me the speed limit is fifty-five .

Without letting go of the grab handle, Vincent digs in his suit pocket and pulls out his phone. He projects the call through the car’s loudspeakers, and I grind my teeth, my foot inching down on the gas with every ring.

“ Pronto. ” Marco’s voice sounds strained as he picks up—like he’s only giving his phone half his attention while he focuses on something urgent.

Vincent doesn’t even try to speak as I take over the call. “Where are you? Is Nina safe?”

“Yeah, boss. She’s good. We have the main house secured. She’s in her room now with a full guard at her door, but you need to get up here as soon as?—”

“I’m already on my way. Get me Salvatore.”

Static crackles across the line as Marco passes his phone, and I grip the steering wheel harder. Something already happened—that much is clear—and I need to know what, but first, I have to get Salvatore to come get me. I still have over an hour to drive, and if he can pick me up on the way, he could get me to the barn in a fraction of the time.

“Hey, boss,” Salvatore says, his accent crisp and succinct.

“Vincent’s going to share our location. I need you to come pick me up. I’ll be a moving target, so plan ahead and find somewhere to land along I-85. We’re driving up to meet you.”

The sound of fingers tapping a phone screen issues from the passenger seat.

“Sure thing,” Salvatore confirms.

“Give me back to Marco.” I usually try to be more cordial with my pilot, but right now, my nerves are strung tight as piano wire. It’s taking considerable effort to keep us on the road as the car creeps closer to a hundred and fifty. I don’t have the time or brain space to give a damn about being nice.

“Yeah, boss,” Marco says, his rougher baritone filling the front seat of the car.

“What happened?”

“Nikolai. I didn’t get all the details. By the time the chopper landed, it was over, and his men were gone, but Ottavio had his hands full cleaning up the mess?—”

“Is Mika alright?” I growl.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers quickly. “She’s safe. She’s alive. I stationed extra guards at the gate who know to shoot anyone on sight unless they’re part of the caravan coming up from the city. The rest of my guys should be here any minute now. But it looks like Ottavio’s unit took a pretty good hit. They’ll need the reinforcements.”

I jerk the steering wheel, whipping around a driver crawling along in the left lane, and get a loud blast from someone’s horn, but we’re past the scene so quickly, I don’t even know who honked at me, nor do I care. I do ease off the gas just slightly, though, slowing the car slightly now that I know Mika is safe—that whatever danger she was in is already over. Though not as much as Vincent would prefer, I think. “And you can’t tell me any more than that?”

“All I know is Nikolai’s men rolled in driving some big trailer truck, shot some guy in the head, demanded your woman, then opened fire on Ottavio and his men when they wouldn’t hand her over. They took off—probably when they realized they were outgunned. From the sounds of it, it was only a handful of them.”

I can hear the sound of a door slamming, then the crunch of gravel under Marco’s shoes.

“Did Nina see anything?”

“Not much—the blood while we were driving her up to the house.”

“Good,” I state flatly. I try to keep my sister shielded from the violence as much as I can, and I don’t like how close she came to ending up right in the middle of a firefight, but I trust Marco with her life—just like I trust him with mine. “Keep it like that. Ottavio’s not picking up his phone. I need to speak with him.”

“Already on my way.”

The distant sound of horses whinnying makes me wonder whether the animals ended up in the line of fire at all—if they were, Mika would never forgive me. That much, I know .

Marco and Ottavio share a quick exchange, and a moment later, the captain I left in charge of Mika’s safety comes on the phone.

“I’m sorry, boss,” he says, his voice tight with strain.

“Where’s Mika?” I demand, brushing aside his apology as I take another fast curve.

“Still at the barn,” he says flatly, his tone indicating he’s no happier about it than I am. “I couldn’t get her to come back to the house after the grooms left en masse.”

Have you considered throwing her over your shoulder and dragging her back to the house? She’s skinny enough, he could carry her without a problem. But I don’t suggest it out loud because as soon as the thought crosses my mind, a wave of possessive anger rips through my chest at the thought of him touching her—and I imagine Ottavio knows better than to cross that line.

Then, the full meaning of his words starts to sink in. “What do you mean the grooms left? All of them?”

“All but two. They quit on the spot, took their cars, and left the property. I didn’t think they would be the priority.”

“ What the fuck happened, Ottavio? ” I demand. Whatever it was must have been bad enough to scare them off, and my palms grow slick around the steering wheel as my pulse kicks up a notch.

“The guy who delivered the horses yesterday? He rolled up to the front gates, asking to speak to Miss Harper, said it was urgent. I was turning him away, but your woman insisted we let him in. The guys stationed at the gate didn’t see anything off about the driver, so I made the call to let him in?—”

I can hear the regret in Ottavio’s extended pause, the guilt at knowing his wrong call allowed Nikolai to do what he did. Ottavio continues, explaining how one of Nikolai’s men shot Joel as soon as he got out of the truck, demanding they hand Mika over so that no one else had to die. My stomach knots when Ottavio mentions some of the grooms were ready to do so, and a burning fury rises in my chest. The cowards—they’re lucky they left, because I would kill any man who stayed and expected my protection after considering such a deal .

“We lost two men in the firefight—seven more are injured. None of the barn staff were hurt, though, and we managed to take care of the driver before your sister arrived.”

Sighing heavily, I ease off the gas as I resist the urge to massage my temples, and I catch sight of the chopper along the horizon as it lowers toward the ground just off to my left about a mile ahead.

“You fucked up, Ottavio,” I state flatly. I get it. Mika can be very persuasive and hardheaded, but I can’t give my captain much leeway when it cost multiple men their lives.

“I know, boss. I’m sorry.”

“Just get Mika inside the house and tighten down the perimeter. Focus our forces on the main house and barn—the stable hands who stayed can sleep in the house as well tonight. Set up shifts—I want eyes in every direction at all times tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Good.” I end the call through the car’s speakers and take the exit, heading toward an open field of rippling grass where Salvatore’s setting down. “You can drive the rest of the way up,” I tell Vincent, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. “I’ll see you when you get there.”

“Sure thing, boss.” My bodyguard looks a lot more relaxed at my current speed and the prospect of finishing the drive at a more reasonable pace.

It doesn’t take long to cross the field to where the chopper’s waiting, and I keep my head low to stay clear of the propellers as I board while they’re still running. Then we’re off, heading north over the deep green canopies of trees and the bright patches of grass and sprawling farms. The trip that would have taken nearly an hour by car is over in just a fraction of that time, and the iron grip on my chest starts to ease as the massive, whitewashed barn comes into view.

Salvatore sets down on the landing pad I had installed in the south pasture, and an SUV is already waiting to drive me up to the barn. Before I even reach the impressive structure, I can see the destruction Nikolai’s men caused. The pristine wood slats have been riddled with bullet holes—dark scorch marks pocking the white face. A crimson stain darkens the center of the red gravel drive. It’s large enough that I know that’s the exact spot where Mika’s transporter, Joel, died. White-hot fury licks up my spine at what Nikolai did—all because things didn’t go his way on our agreement. I know Mika well enough now to be certain she’ll carry that death on her shoulders, and in all the confirmations I’ve received that she’s safe and unharmed, no one’s given me any details about how she’s handling the violence this time. I guess I can assume she hasn’t gone into shock and fainted, but the tension in my gut is nearly unbearable by the time the car rolls to a stop.

Several of my men exit the barn as soon as I climb out, their expressions drawn and serious.

“Where’s Ottavio?” I demand, though my eyes scan for a glimpse of Mika’s gold curls.

“Down at the workers’ cottages,” Daniel states, gesturing toward them.

My head snaps in his direction as I glare. “Why?”

“Miss Harper refused to come to the main house, so he took as many men as we could spare—” He stops short as he reads the look on my face, and I turn without a word back toward the Escalade.

Damn it, Mika. I told her to stay near the barn—to go no farther than the racetrack—and after everything that’s happened, she refused to obey me and the men I put here to protect her. She’s stubborn beyond reason, reckless, infuriating—but underneath my frustration, I have this sinking feeling in my gut telling me that she’s trying to run.

I don’t wait for the driver to put the vehicle in park as we pull up outside Mika’s house. Throwing open the passenger door, I jump out and storm toward the modest red-brick ranch-style house. One of the men, Ottavio, stationed at the front door, swings it open for me without a word. The living room has five more guards standing watch, and they all straighten respectfully as I enter.

I barely take in the simple farm-style decor in Mika’s home, I’m so furious. “Where is she?” I demand as soon as I’m sure she’s not in the main living area .

Several fingers point down the hallway, and I follow the silent direction, passing two more men before I find Ottavio standing sentry at the entrance to Mika’s bedroom. His stormy expression shifts to apprehension as our eyes meet.

“Boss, I?—”

“Everyone out. I need to speak with Mika alone,” I say, my eyes falling on her turned back.

She stiffens, freezing for just a second as she leans over the bed—packing a suitcase that sits open and half-full. Ottavio gives a curt nod and leaves without another word. I stand in the doorway, watching until the sound of boots fades and the front door closes with a heavy thud. Swiftly wiping at her cheeks, Mika keeps her back turned to me as she walks to her dresser for another stack of clothes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I growl, entering her room.

Like the rest of the house, it’s decorated sparingly—clean and generic with foxhunting prints on the walls and sturdy oak furniture. The sheets are simple and white, and judging by the lack of personal items, I would guess the room came furnished, and Mika didn’t feel the need to personalize the space. I imagine that’s because she spends all her waking hours at the barn—her office is where she keeps her memories, photos of the horses she’s trained, and things like that. Still, the space is just big enough to accommodate the furniture, and when I stop in front of Mika, I automatically block her path back to the dresser.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She keeps her eyes down, focused on her suitcase as she folds and stacks her clothes. The tip of her nose is pink, and now that I’m closer, I can hear her sniffling.

“Mika.”

She doesn’t stop or even glance my way, and I dig deep for patience, though I’m tempted to grab the suitcase and toss it to undo her work.

“ Mika. ” Closing the distance between us, I grasp her jaw, turning her face and lifting her chin so she has to look at me.

My heart wrenches at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks, the shimmering sadness in her eyes, and she glares up at me as she drops the rest of the clothes into her bag without looking.

“What, Alfie? What do you want?”

A sharp sob rips from her throat, and I’m sorely tempted to pull her into my arms and comfort her, but I don’t.

“I want an explanation for why you disobeyed me again .” I force a sense of calm into my voice that I don’t feel as I lean in closer, bringing my face to eye level with her.

“I’m leaving. I can’t stay here anymore.” Mika grasps my hand with both of hers, removing it from her chin as she takes a step back.

“This is the safest place for you right now,” I state, focusing on calming her fear, though my body rages with protest at the thought of letting her go. “I can protect you, but out there, you would be on your own.”

“This isn’t just about me anymore, Alfie!” she screams, her cheeks flushing as her tears come harder now. Guilt and agony are written across her face, her tortured expression twisting like a knife in my gut. “Staying could get someone else killed—like Joel. It could put the horses in worse danger than I’ve already exposed them to. With me gone, you can get the rest of the grooms to come back?—”

“Mika.”

She takes another step back as I close the distance between us, but I’m not taking no for an answer. Cupping her face in my hands, I peer deep into her tear-filled eyes as I stroke the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs.

“What happened to Joel was not your fault. Nikolai is a monster, and I will get him back under control—one way or another. But you did not do this. This is my mess to clean up, and I promise you I will. Running won’t do anything but play right into the Russians’ hands, so like it or not, you aren’t going anywhere. You understand?”

Mika sniffles, then, after a long pause, she gives a reluctant nod.

“Good.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks softly, her voice quivering with emotion, and I want to wipe away every last ounce of her sadness .

I know she’s asking about my plans for Nikolai, but that’s not what she needs to worry about right now.

“First, I intend to punish you for thinking you could run from me,” I murmur, and my cock twitches as Mika takes a sharp breath, her full lips parting.