Forbidden Vows: Chapter 31

From the moment I get the location from Howard Lee, everything starts moving—and fast.

It only takes us a few hours to put a good team together.

“Andrei has about sixty percent of the organization inside Upton Conference Center as we speak,” Tommy tells me.

We’re half a block down from our target in a gritty and dangerous part of the city. There are very few lights along this stretch of road. Hookers and dealers work every corner, while the occasional John drives by looking for a good time. Junkies constantly wander about looking for their next fix.

I’ve got my earpiece in, listening to Ian’s men confirm their positions while I give Tommy a long look. “Why are you here, really?” I ask him.

“Let’s get one thing clear—I’m not a participant. My dad would kill me himself. But you saved my life once, Anton. You gave me a fresh start, and I was able to patch things up with your brother. The least I can do is keep an eye on this thing and call for backup if you need me.”

“Backup?”

“Yeah, backup. Worst case? The cops. You’ve got good lawyers on your payroll, don’t you?”

“And what’s the worst case beyond that, because we both know it could go bad in a hurry,” I ask, ignoring his question.

Tommy nods. “The Mancini’s have expressed interest in lancing a boil like Sergei Kuznetsov, provided they can rely on your discretion. Turns out that the deal he made with Lee is causing a bit of a dent in my uncle Leo’s business. I guess we’re all connected to this fucker, one way or another.”

“Sergei is so desperate to come across as the smartest man in the room that he can’t see past his own ego. He never was able to see the greater picture. It will be his downfall; I will make sure of it.”

“Either way, I’ve got you,” Tommy says. “And I made sure to get the word out through my NSA buddies to pass it along to a couple of eager beavers in the FSB that Sergei might be getting sent back soon. They’ve offered to assist with a pickup and transport to the airport.”

“That’s so nice of them,” I mutter.

Things aren’t going to end well for Sergei. Andrei has sent multiple messages stating that, so far, the evidence he has provided the families regarding Sergei’s operations seem to have pulled more than half of them back to our side. Circumstantial at best, yet it did the job. Good. I want that fucker to burn.

“Robin to Eagle.” A voice comes through my earpiece. It’s Declan, Ian’s best friend and former MI6 and SSA operative.

“Go ahead, Robin,” I reply.

“Target confirmed,” he says. “Kuznetsov is inside. Heat scans show us two dozen live bodies in there.”

“Any sign of my wife and her stepsister?”

“Top floor, back office. Judging by the heat signatures, it’s them. Eileen and Ciara are both alive, sir.”

“Good. We proceed as planned. I’ll be out in one minute.”

“Roger that, Eagle. I’ll be waiting.”

I check my weapons and the rest of my equipment one last time, then shake Tommy’s hand. “If something happens, I want you to know it was a pleasure,” I tell him.

“Just go get your wife and let me be the godfather to your twins,” he replies. “Take that psychopath down once and for all.”

Here’s to wishful thinking, because I’m preparing for the worst.

Kuznetsov isn’t the deadly one, though. It’s his team I’m worried about. They’re ruthless assassins, most of them born and bred in the former Soviet Union, several in the military and the FSB before they came to America.

My wife is in there and I’m getting her out alive.

No matter what.

Tommy stays behind, comfortable in the passenger seat while I make my way up the road. I stick to the shadows cast by the derelict buildings and once-booming factories and manufacturing plants. This part of town used to keep the whole city pumping tons of money into the state’s coffers. But the market crash eventually found its way here and nobody was spared.

Declan meets me across the street from the address of the warehouse that Lee gave us. Clad in black and joined by eight of his most capable mercenaries, he gives me a reassuring nod. “We’re ready, sir,” he says.

“There’s more of them than there are of us,” I remind him.

“Quality trumps quantity, sir.”

I appreciate the confidence with a slight nod. “Points of ingress?”

We go over the building blueprints together, agreeing on the steps we’ll take in order to get inside. We will neutralize every hostile in sight.

The more I look at these lines of white on dark blue paper, the tighter the knot in my stomach becomes. Eileen is up there. Scared and vulnerable. At least she’s got Ciara with her.

“I’m first through the door,” I instruct. “Declan, you’re with me. The rest of you know what to do. Keep your eyes sharp and your earpieces in, no matter what. We need to be as quiet as possible.”

Declan shows me the silencers mounted on each of their semi- and fully automatic weapons. “Discretion is part of the package, sir. But do we have a contingency plan in place?”

“Cops are the best choice should the worst happen.”

“And the absolute worst?” he asks.

I give him a wry smile. “You have a bad history with them.”

“Mancini.”

Declan’s younger sister was killed in a turf war between the Mancinis and the Lopez gang about eight years ago, somewhere on the South Side. I know from Ian that he doesn’t play well with the Italians, in general, but that he has a particularly sharp bone to pick with the Mancinis. Hopefully, it won’t get that far.

“Alright, let’s roll.” I give the order.

A minute ticks by in tomb-like silence as Declan and I make our way across the warehouse yard, careful to stay in the shadows. Ian’s voice comes through my earpiece.

“Nest to Eagle.”

“Ian, what the fuck are you doing?” I hiss, my gaze darting all over the place.

We spot movement about fifty yards ahead, two guards lingering outside the front entrance—a massive set of double doors made of corrugated metal. The lights are on inside.

“I’m still in bed recovering, sir, but I figured I’d be of help,” he says.

Declan can hear him, too. “You’re off your rocker, Nest.”

“Right back at you, Robin. But at least I’m being useful. The warehouse was fitted with a CCTV system a few months back.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

“I hacked into Lee’s phone and email when you and Mr. Benedetto sat him down for coffee.”

I give Declan a startled look while we remain still in a dark corner. “How the hell did you do that?” I reply in a low voice, but I’m sure Ian can sense my outrage.

“Don’t be mad, Sir, but I planted several apps on your phone that allow me to access other devices by proxy. I didn’t think I’d ever have to use them, but I was comforted to have a contingency in place, should anything happen to you.”

“Nothing happened to me.”

“No, but I can still use your phone to help Eileen.”

“Fair enough. Tell us about the security system,” I concede.

“I just disabled it. They won’t see you coming. I left some standard empty segments looping on their screens. I doubt they’ll notice the time stamps.”

Declan exhales sharply. “He got himself hooked up with a laptop at the hospital not two days after getting shot. The man is unbelievable.”

“And you’re welcome,” Ian replies. “Best of luck, gentlemen.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about those apps you installed without my consent when I get back, but thanks, Ian.”

Declan and I approach the front entrance from two different angles.

The guards fail to spot us until it’s too late. Declan shoots one in the head, and I get the other one in the neck. They both drop dead. I briefly stare at their bodies and the pools of crimson blood spreading on the ground, wishing there had been an easier and better way to do this.

But there wasn’t.

Slowly, we go inside.

“Looks quiet,” Declan whispers.

Indeed, the ground floor is a vast space of nothing. But I don’t like it.

“It’s too quiet,” I whisper.

POP. POP.

Bullets whizz past us.

They either heard us come in or their outside boys didn’t check in when they were supposed to. It’s on, whether we like it or not.

Declan is quick to spot one of the shooters at the top. He fires back. The assailant drops from a considerable height with a sickening crunch of his bones. More of Sergei’s people come at us from various locations within the dark warehouse.

I shoot at everything that moves without discrimination.

“Ground floor, birdies!” I call out through my earpiece.

Immediately, four of our men join the gunfight.

I hear the bullets as they ping across the room from multiple directions. Sparks fly. Wood gets blown to splinters while Declan and I split up and take cover.

“More incoming!” one of our own says into my earpiece. “Six, maybe more. They’re packing heavy, sir.”

“Keep them down here!” I order as I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure.

Sergei Kuznetsov slowly approaches, though he doesn’t look so brave and defiant anymore. A stoic expression shadows his face while his men keep firing and taking bullets. He seems to be looking for a way out.

I move away from the fireworks, trusting Declan and his men to handle the situation while I inch closer to Sergei.

“Hey, asshole!” I shout after him.

He sees me and turns white. “No!”

“What did you expect?” I reply and start firing.

He ducks out of the way, then trips and stumbles up a narrow stairway leading to the upper floor.

“Son of a…” I mutter and start running after him.

Something slams into me from the side with the full force of a linebacker. I’m thrown against the wall, the wind knocked out of my lungs. For a hot second, everything turns white as I hear the rushed sound of Sergei’s footsteps as he climbs the metallic ladder.

The guard I’m wrestling with is big and packed with hard-as-rock muscles. His left hook catches me in the side of my head, making my ears ring.

My instincts kick in. My main weapon is on the floor out of reach, knocked out of my hand when he rushed me. I have another one I can reach, if only—

I grunt as he kicks me in the gut.

It feels as though I was hit with a battering ram.

My vision turns red as I catch my breath. I’m furious as I start hitting back. Unlike my aggressor, however, I’m not banking on force. I’m banking on quick and deadly. I need to catch up to Sergei before it’s too late.

I know where he’s going.