35. Logan

CHAPTER 35

LOGAN

The stench of sweat, blood, and gunpowder clings to my clothes as I stand in the shadowy corner of the office at Purgatory. There’s music, thumping outside the room. The night is in full swing with unassuming people dancing and drinking below. Vlad's men are slumped in chairs, nursing their wounds. One poor bastard took a bullet to the thigh and a guy by the name Hector dragged him down somewhere called "the warehouse" for Doc to patch up. It was a goddamn ambush out there and we walked right into it.

How have I not put two and two together before things got bloody, I don’t know.

Vlad stalks the room like a caged animal, his jacket discarded, the sleeves of his rumpled dress shirt shoved up to the elbows. He downs another shot of whiskey, the expensive stuff that’s probably saved for shit days like this. Ricky and Seven, a couple of Vlad's guys I've seen around the club when I came by with Sasha, sit silently on the couch in the corner opposite mine. Ivan’s standing guard by the door, arms at his sides. His suit is all ruffled and torn. There’s a gash on his forehead and Seven offers Doc’s services but Ivan declines.

The room crackles with tension hard enough to choke on.

"The Hellhounds are ready and willing," Ricky says, his voice cutting through the moment of silence. "Just say the word and we'll ride with you on this."

Vlad slams his glass down, jaw clenched tight. "No. I'm not dragging your crew into this mess. It could blow back on your whole operation."

"Boss, we’ve seen a lot of action. We can handle this."

"I know." Vlad halts to a stop in the middle of the room and stares at each and every one of us. When his eyes land on me, I feel something prickle around my spine. I’ve forgotten who Vlad is. I’ve forgotten who his father was and what their family is capable of.

Seven leans forward, elbows on his knees. "What about the Arellanos? I know a guy in their operation who has connections. Could probably track down Toro. Find that rat, we find Shtyk."

I study Vlad's face, a thundercloud ready to unleash hell. This situation is spiraling out of control fast. Sasha is still out there, alone and scared, while we sit here with our thumbs up our asses. My stomach churns, a sickening mix of dread and helpless rage. I need to do something, anything. But without a solid lead, we're dead in the water, and Sasha could be dead, period.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the thought, fighting the urge to put my fist through the wall. Hang on, mylash . We're coming for you. Just hang on.

Vlad’s voice yanks me out of my dark thoughts. "McKenna, you hear anything from your guy? Any news on where they might've taken my brother?"

I shake my head, there’s a weight in my chest. "Nothing solid. Stan says Toro and Shtyk have been meeting up more than usual lately, but he doesn't know why or where or anything beyond what we already know."

"It is not a fucking secret they have been talking behind my back. I already know this," Vlad snaps.

Ivan mutters something in Russian, then adds in broken English, "Cartel is bad news. We play with them, it end bad for all."

Vlad drains the rest of his whiskey in one burning swallow and slams the glass down hard enough to rattle the desk. He moves to the door abruptly. "I need to use the bathroom. Will be right back."

As soon as the door closes behind him, Ricky and Seven exchange a loaded glance before turning their scrutiny on me and Ivan.

"So what the hell happened out there?" Ricky asks. "How'd they get the jump on you like that?"

I rub a hand over my face, exhaustion and worry etching deep lines into my skin. "The tip was bad. We walked right into an ambush."

Seven frowns. "And nobody thought to check it out first? Make sure it was legit?"

Anger flares hot in my veins, and I fix him with a hard stare. "If it was your family taken, you'd be thinking straight? Or would you charge in, guns blazing, to get them back?"

Seven holds up his hands in surrender, but Ricky isn't backing down. "Hey, we're all on the same side here. But we gotta be smart about this. Can't just go off half-cocked."

I’m suddenly unable to breathe in this tiny room. The walls begin to press in on me. "I need some air."

I exit the office, gulping down lungfuls of air-conditioned club air.

The bathroom door swings shut behind me with a hollow thud. I lean against the tiled wall, closing my eyes for a second and trying to catch my breath. My pulse pounds in my ears, nearly drowning out the bass thumping from the dance floor below.

Vlad stands at the sink, hands braced on the dark marble, decorated by the snaking gold. His broad shoulders are hunched, head hanging low. He looks as wrecked as I feel. It’s a revelation—seeing him like this.

"Vlad," I rasp out, pushing off the wall. "Talk to me. What's going on? What the hell are we going to do?"

He shakes his head slowly, not meeting my eyes in the mirror. "This is all my fault," he mutters to himself. "I should have protected him better. Should have known they would keep on coming for Sasha..."

I step closer, my reflection moving alongside his. "You couldn't have known. None of us saw this coming."

Vlad slams a fist against the sink. "I am his brother! It is my job to keep him safe. And now..." His voice cracks. "Now they have him. Because of me. You are wrong. I should have seen this coming. They tried to kill him in London."

"We'll get him back," I say firmly, putting every ounce of conviction I can muster behind the words. "Whatever it takes."

Vlad shifts his angry, tortured gaze at me. "You, Americans, are so goddamn optimistic. You do not know when to stop hoping, do you?"

"Once you stop hoping, death comes for you."

He chuckles, a dark sound. "Death comes for you anyway. Maybe not when you expect it, but she does. It is the only certain thing in life."

"But you can fight it."

"In your world, McKenna. Not in mine."

"What do you suggest? We just sit and wait till they start sending us pieces of him?"

Vlad’s mouth twists into a sneer. He straightens his shoulders and turns to face me, all blood and expensive cologne. His hard gray eyes bore into mine. "You are just as guilty as I am." He stabs his index finger into my chest. "It was your fucking job to protect him and you failed to do so. Instead, you fucked my little brother, you asshole."

I expect another blow. I’m ready to take it because he is not wrong. But Vlad doesn’t move, doesn’t utter another word.

"And if it takes the cartel's help?" I say carefully. "Seven said the Arellanos could track Toro and Shtyk, find Sasha."

He shakes his head. "You know what that means. Owing them. The strings that come with that kind of 'help.' It is a bad idea."

"But you are doing business with them."

"Business and favors do not mix."

"Time's run—"

I don’t get to finish the sentence. The buzzing of my phone pierces through the tension of the bathroom. My heart leaps into my throat as I frantically fumble for the phone, nearly dropping it in my haste to answer the unknown number.

"Hello?" I choke out.

"Logan?" The sound of Sasha's voice, trembling and rough, hits me like a tidal wave. Relief crashes over me, so intense it almost brings me to my knees. I have to grab the edge of the sink to make sure I don’t lose my cool.

"Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I... I don't know exactly. Some fast food joint off 169." Sasha's breath hitches, a sob catching in his throat. "Logan, I'm scared. They... I think they are onto me. I don't know what's going on. I shot one of their guys and ran. But I’m exhausted. There’s nowhere else to go. It’s the middle of the bloody nowhere. Sand and shit."

"It's okay, baby. It’s okay." I force my voice to remain steady, even as my heart shatters at the fear in Sasha's tone. "I need you to find somewhere to hide, okay? Stay out of sight. We're coming to get you."

"Please hurry," Sasha whispers frantically, his voice so small it takes every ounce of my self-control not to put my fist through the bathroom mirror.

"We will. Just hold on." The call ends with a click, and I look up to find Vlad's gaze drilling into me, his face a kaleidoscope of barely restrained emotion.

"It is him?" Vlad says.

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. "He's at the restaurant off 169. I think I know which one. He got out and ran. We need to go, now. Before they catch up to him."

Vlad is already moving, his long strides eating up the distance to the bathroom door. I follow close on his heels.

"I'll get Ivan," Vlad tosses over his shoulder. "Find Ricky. Ask him to get us some cars ready out in the alley. We're bringing our boy home, tonight."

I nod grimly, my hand already reaching for my Glock. Heaven help anyone who tries to stand in my way. Because when it comes to Sasha, there's no line I won't cross, no price I won't pay.