28. Mika

28

MIKA

A s I rise from a deep and dreamless sleep, I’m amazed at how well-rested I feel. The same familiar bird song I woke to yesterday bursts to life outside the large picture window of the Carvers’ old house. Today, the space feels more like it belongs to Alfie than it did the day before—and in the first foggy moments of consciousness, I’m struck by how deeply content I am. Then, as I open my eyes and see the empty pillow beside me, reality starts to sink back in. Alfie’s gone, and from a quick glance toward the bathroom, I can assume he’s already gone for the day. Rolling over, I look out the window to find it’s barely daybreak. He must have gotten a very early start. I’m an early riser—it comes with the job—so the fact that he beat me out of bed means he must have something pressing to deal with.

I, on the other hand, am supposed to just stay inside all day, being useless and safe while Javier and Hector clean, feed, and water a full stable of horses on their own. At least, that’s what I told Alfie I would do. Sighing, I flop onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I don’t think I can do it. The guilt is already gnawing a hole in my stomach, and I’m not good at sitting still, even when I don’t feel like I’m neglecting the animals or abandoning the two loyal men who stayed to take care of them.

I weigh the pros and cons of doing as I was told. I know Alfie has the barn under armed guard—something he assured me of multiple times last night. So even if I did sneak over to help, I would be safe. On the other hand, when Alfie finds out I disobeyed him, he won’t be happy. Then again, over the last few days, I’ve been coming to the conclusion that some things are worth the risk of angering him—especially when Alfie’s forms of punishment continue to prove as pleasurable as they are painful, if not more so.

Slipping out of bed, I head to the small suitcase of clothes I packed and dig out a fresh set of jeans and a loose-fitting black tee, before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. I’m in and out in fifteen minutes, quickly brushing my teeth and tying my damp curls up into a messy bun before applying a layer of sunscreen.

I hold my breath as I open the door to the bedroom, hoping Alfie didn’t station any guards to follow me around the house since he’s gone. For a second, I think I’m in the clear—the hallway is empty—and I step out of the master bedroom, closing it quietly behind me. I catch the sound of muffled voices just around the corner, near the stairs, and I creep closer, hugging the wall to avoid being seen.

“—probably in that meeting for most of the morning,” one man says, his voice rough and hoarse, like that of a smoker.

“My news can wait then. If it’s about the Kapranovs, he won’t appreciate an interruption.” The second voice sounds younger, smooth, and strong.

I don’t recognize either, but there are so many new faces around the barn from the reinforcements Alfie brought in; that’s not surprising. All I can tell is that neither is one of the main Men in Black who always shadows Alfie, which is a relief. I suspect they would be a lot harder to slip past. From the sounds of it, Alfie’s already in a meeting, trying to deal with the Nikolai situation, so I won’t have to worry about him coming back and finding me missing right away.

The voices fall silent, and I hold my breath as I risk peeking around the corner. The one guard is alone now as the other heads back down the stairs. The remaining guard paces restlessly, glancing over the railing on each pass. He has a handgun tucked beneath his suit jacket, which I catch a glimpse of as he reaches up to run his fingers along a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He needs a smoke, I realize.

Someone must have told him not to do so in the house, but his addiction is like a devil on his shoulder, constantly reminding him of what he craves. Maybe he’s been on the night shift and hasn’t had a break in hours. I glance down at my wristwatch, wondering when someone might come to relieve him. Maybe I can wait until then and slip past while they’re distracted. The guard removes the cigarette from its resting place, flicking it between his fingers as he pauses by the stairs, seeming to silently debate, and my heart skips a beat.

I can’t be that lucky, can I?

He huffs, tucking the smoke back behind his ear as he resumes his restless walking, and I duck quickly back behind the corner as he turns to pace in my direction. Keeping my back against the wall, I consider my different options. I could climb out a window, though I imagine that would be pretty obvious with so many guards watching the house. I listen to the agitated footsteps of my guard and debate whether I should just make my presence known and pretend I’m going down for breakfast, but I imagine that as soon as I do, I’ll have a tail for the day.

The footsteps pause again, and I glance quickly around the corner to find him at the top of the stairs. He hesitates, his gaze flicking in my direction, and I jerk back, hoping he didn’t see me. Then relief floods my chest as I hear the clatter of feet descending the stairs. He’s decided to give himself a smoke break.

I wait until I catch the distant click of a door opening before I creep forward to the landing overlooking the foyer. I can see my guard’s shadow through the frosted glass of the side light, but no one is in the entryway.

Jumping into action, I creep down the stairs as quickly as I can without making noise, and I duck to the right, slipping into the dark drawing room before anyone notices. I’m only vaguely familiar with the layout of the house from the dinner Alfie insisted I participate in the day he bought the barn, but I know that the door across the room leads toward the dining room. I head that direction, certain I can make it to the kitchen that way.

The dining room is empty as well, though the long table has been set for breakfast. I cross the room, heading toward the door where the staff entered to serve our meal. That dinner feels like a lifetime ago—so much has happened in the past few weeks. The kitchen is bustling with activity when I ease the door open, but no one seems to be paying attention to anything but their task at hand as they prepare food. Doing my best to appear like I belong, I stroll casually toward the back door, and to my intense relief, no one even looks up to question my presence.

I slip outside and immediately have to duck behind the bushes to the side of the doorway as another of Alfie’s men turns toward the sound of the kitchen door closing. Crouching, I stay hidden to watch as he frowns, approaching the door. I creep around the bush, keeping it between me and the guard to stay out of his line of sight. He peers inside the paneled windows of the kitchen door, his expression baffled as he tries to make sense of what he heard. I take advantage of the moment, staying low as I sneak away, using the cover of the well-maintained landscape and the dim light of early morning to hide my movement.

As soon as I make it past the perimeter of the house, my escape becomes a lot easier. It would seem most of the men have been stationed to guard it, and while I’m grateful for it because that makes getting to the barn easier, I also wish Alfie would have shown more concern for the protection of the horses.

I stay on my guard, ready to duck behind cover if anyone crosses my path, but I’m in luck, because I don’t pass another person on my way to the stable. Javi and Hector must have already started feeding—the alley lights are on, shining out through the open stall windows that allow the horses a view outside. The floodlight at the barn entrance casts an eerie golden glow on the crimson stain marking where Joel died. I swallow hard, a fresh wave of tears tightening my throat at the memory of watching my reliable transporter crumple lifelessly to the ground.

The reminder, combined with the quiet stillness of the early morning, gives me the creeps, and I wrap my arms around myself as a violent shudder racks my body. I’m used to all the hands being here by now, the energetic activity of caring for a barn first thing in the day—with only two grooms, the space feels deserted, hostile even. A shrill whinny makes me jolt, and I release a breathy laugh as I realize I’m being ridiculous. I step inside the open barn door, releasing a breath as I successfully reach my destination without getting caught.

My stomach drops, the hair rising on the back of my neck as I’m met with an unexpected scene—Javi and Hector sitting back to back in the middle of the alley. It takes a second for my brain to register the rope tying them together and binding their hands at the waist. Cloth gags trapped between their teeth muffle their protests as they look at me with wide-eyed panic, trying fruitlessly to tell me something.

That’s when I spot the pile of bodies.

I freeze, my body tensing as my hands fly to my mouth to cover my scream. It’s Alfie’s men—more of them than I can easily count—stacked unceremoniously against a stall door. They’re all dead, their eyes staring lifelessly around the space, their blood spreading across the cement in a grizzly pool of crimson. I can smell it in the air—the coppery tang of death—and it makes me gag. Horrified, I take an involuntary step back, realizing a moment too late why the barn felt too quiet.

My skin crawls as someone steps from the shadows of my open office door—Nikolai Kapranov. The towering Russian sneers as he approaches, a gun held casually by his side. Chills ripple across my flesh as his men step out of the shadows to surround me, cutting off the chance for escape, and the soft chorus of guns cocking makes my heart stop for a full second.

“There she is. The shlyukha who’s causing me so much trouble,” Nikolai drawls, his thick Russian accent making him sound bored.

“W-What—How—” I can’t seem to catch my breath as panic starts to set in, and I glance around, my flight response kicking in with full force. There are far too many guns aimed in my direction. If they decide to shoot, there’s no way they won’t hurt a horse or one of the grooms, and my blood runs cold as I realize just how badly I messed up. I disobeyed Alfie again, and this time, I walked right into Nikolai’s hands.

“You realize that while you’ve become a thorn in my side, in the end, you’re nothing but a piece of ass. You’re disposable, and I won’t let you stand in the way of this alliance.” The Russian’s voice is calm and even, but the violence glinting in his eyes looks half-crazed, like he’s searching for any excuse to put a bullet in my brain. “This marriage between Alfie and my daughter will give me influence like no pakhan has accomplished in New York’s history. I will have control over every borough, and I won’t let some greedy, gold-digging whore get in my way.”

Heart racing, I try to come up with a response that might help the situation—a way to make him lower his guard, or, at the very least, delay what’s coming. If I can lead him outside, at least then I can minimize the collateral damage, but I’m not sure how I can do that when three of his men stand at my back, guns raised. “I’m not in your way,” I insist, holding my hands out, palms up in a gesture of cooperation. “We can work this out?—”

“I will not be working anything out with you,” Nikolai states, stalking closer, the barrel of his gun glaring me down. “Alfie needs to understand that nothing is going to get in the way of this alliance. He made a huge mistake, going back on his word, and I will teach him a lesson for it. Nobody fucks me over. But don’t worry, shlyukha , I will make this quick and painless because I am a gentleman.”

“Please, just—I’ll leave.” The words rush from my mouth in my desperation to do what little I can to protect the horses. Maybe I can reason with him so no one has to die.

“I don’t think so,” he drawls. “Clearly, you have a hold on Alfie, and that needs to be set straight. He won’t focus on the big picture until you’re removed from it, which is why I’m here to kill you.”

Nikolai raises his gun, bringing the barrel within feet of my face. He won’t miss from this distance, and cold dread floods my veins as I feel my fate closing in. I never should have left the house. Why didn’t I listen to Alfie?

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

My heart somersaults at the familiar voice behind me. Deep and smooth, it sounds calm, entirely in control of the situation, and despite my terror, an intense surge of relief sweeps through me.

“Ah, Alfie, I’m glad you’re here. It’s probably best if you see this so there’s no room for misunderstanding ,” the Russian pakhan sneers.

“Put the gun down, Nikolai, and we can talk about this,” Alfie says, a hint of warning edging into his tone.

“In case you haven’t gotten the message, I’m not interested in talking . We had an agreement. You signed the betrothal contract, and you will honor it—once I kill your whore.”

“You don’t want to pull that trigger.”

How can Alfie sound so damn confident right now? I’m shaking like a leaf, waiting as my life hangs in the balance, and he might as well be talking about the weather for how concerned he seems. I wish I could see his face, but I’m too scared to move.

“And why not?” Nikolai asks, taking a step closer to me as his sneer grows.

“Because I have the barn surrounded. If you kill her, you won’t be leaving here alive.”

A muscle ticks in the Russian’s powerful jaw, and my stomach knots as his aloof boredom transforms into anger. Before I can react, he lashes out, grabbing my arm with bruising force as he yanks me toward him. The unexpected jerk pulls me off balance, and I slam into his massive chest with a gasp. The towering Russian spins me, wrapping a beefy arm around my neck. Cold metal presses against my temple, and I freeze as his hold tightens around my throat. Heart firmly lodged in my airway, I grasp his forearm with both hands, trying to alleviate the pressure enough to avoid suffocating, but I might as well be trying to bend iron. My ears ring, the blood pooling in my head as I suck in what little oxygen I can.

Terrified, I lock eyes with Alfie. His face is stony with an impassive calm, but I can see the fury blazing inside him. I don’t want to die. I definitely don’t want to die like this. What frightens me most, though, is the flicker of fear I catch in his hazel gaze for just a moment before he looks over my shoulder at my captor.

The quick movement unleashes a fresh round of guns cocking, and cold adrenaline rushes through my veins.

“Hold your fire,” Alfie commands, raising his hands in a staying gesture as his nostrils flare. “Let her go, Nikolai,” he says, his voice low and deadly. “Let her go, and we can talk.”

“The only thing I want to hear you say is that you intend to move forward with the wedding,” the Russian growls, his chest vibrating against my back as his booming voice assaults my eardrum.

“We can form an alliance without marriage ties,” Alfie reasons, taking a slow step toward us.

“You think I would trust you with an agreement any less binding than a marriage after what you’ve done?” Nikolai growls, his arm tightening around my throat.

He forces me back a step, and Alfie’s eyes track the motion. He stops, his gaze flicking to mine before shifting back to Nikolai.

“How about I kill the girl who’s caused so much trouble, and then you can decide where your loyalties lie?” the pakhan taunts.

My heart slams against my ribs, and my grip tightens around his forearm as I fruitlessly attempt to break free once more.

“Right now, Mika is the only thing keeping you alive,” Alfie warns. “Give her to me, and I’ll spare you and your men’s lives.”

Nikolai huffs with contempt, but before he can say no, Alfie keeps talking.

“That trade is more than fair by his count, since you have several men here, and you’ve already killed several of mine. Let her go, and you all walk out of here alive.”

“It’s not enough,” Nikolai snarls, pressing the barrel of his gun more firmly against my temple.

I flinch; sure my life is over, but then nothing happens.

“That won’t cover the debt you owe me for leaving my daughter at the altar.”

“I know,” Alfie concedes. “We can sit down like men to renegotiate the terms—without guns present—but only if you let Mika go. If you kill her now, my men have orders to open fire and kill every last one of you.”

I hope he’s bluffing. The only thing worse than dying would be knowing that my death put all the creatures I love directly in the line of fire. Silently, I will Alfie to look at me so I can plead for their safety, but he’s not looking at me. He’s laser-focused on my captor. His hand twitches at his side, as if he would like nothing more than to reach for the gun I know he keeps tucked beneath his suit jacket.

“You tell your men to put down their weapons. My men and I will lower ours, and then you’re going to let me walk out that door,” Nikolai says.

Alfie gives a flick of his fingers, and his two guards lower their weapons, uncocking them before they slip them back into their holsters.

One presses a finger to his ear. “Stand down,” he says loudly enough for me to hear. A moment later, he gives a nod.

A shuddering breath rushes from me as Nikolai’s gun leaves my temple, and he disarms it. His men do the same.

“Tell Mishka to bring the car around,” the pakhan commands, his arm still tight around my throat.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a man putting a phone to his ear, and he says something in Russian. Slowly, Nikolai starts to move, keeping me trapped against his chest as he steers me toward the barn door.

“The girl,” Alfie growls.

“You get her back as soon as I’m in the car,” Nikolai states.

Alfie’s fists clench, his jaw tightening until the tendons jump beneath his skin, and I can tell he wants to make a move. Then his eyes flick down to the gun hanging loosely in Nikolai’s grasp. Nothing he could do would be fast enough.

Tires crunch across the drive, two cars pull up right to the door a moment later, and the Russians filter slowly past Alfie and his men. They turn, never taking their eyes off Nikolai. My stomach flutters as I come just close enough to catch Alfie’s familiar cologne, and then the strong arm wrapped around my throat backs me toward the Escalade.

Alfie tenses, taking a step toward me as the door opens behind me, and I gasp as Nikolai releases me, shoving me forward. I stumble, hands reaching to stop my fall, and then Alfie’s strong arms catch me, his chest meeting my palms as he pulls me firmly against his body. Chaos erupts around me as the Russians pile into the SUVs behind their pakhan .

Alfie’s Men in Black draw their guns with shocking speed, cocking them in an instant, ready to fire if Nikolai tries anything. Instead, the car engines rev, tires spraying gravel as they peel out. Alfie turns, shielding me against the barrage as rocks ping off the barn walls. I’m dizzy from the speed of what just happened, my mind reeling, and my body weak with fear. I shudder violently, gripping Alfie’s suit a little harder as I lean into him so I won’t collapse.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my ear, his arms tightening around me.

I bury my face against his strong chest as tears of relief come fast and hard.