Up to Me
Page 32
So I don’t. I do my best not to underestimate him.
He calls behind him again, to whoever is in the van. “Duffy, put her in car.”
I watch a smaller, more American-looking version of the guy in front of me step out of the van, scoop Marissa up, throw her roughly over his shoulder and carry her to the BMW. He opens the back passenger door and flings her onto the back seat. Through the still-open driver’s side, I can hear her muffled sobs. I don’t know if they’re sobs of pain or relief.
“Now, give me books,” he repeats, like I’m an obstinate child he’s running out of patience with.
My heart tries to hammer its way past my ribs as I hand him the blank ledgers. As I suspected, he flips through them. When he raises his cold eyes to me, if possible, they’re even colder.
“I thought you’d be smarter than this. Your father, not so smart. Look what happened to him.” He pauses meaningfully. “And to his family.”
Fire races along my veins at his reference to my mother and her horrific death. “Things are going to be different this time. You’re going to let us leave here with the books and you’re going to assure me, on behalf of you and your boss and all your shitbag associates, that no one will ever come near me, my family or my friends again. Because if you do, the books will be the least of your worries.”
“What makes you think I do that?”
“Because we have video. Very damning video of the trigger man at the dock that day seven years ago. A man that can be directly linked to Slava.” Slava is the leader of the Bratva cell in the South. “Now I can promise you that, as long as everyone I’ve ever known or met remains safe, this video will never see the light of day. But if—”
The cell phone in my pocket rings. My heart skips a beat. There’s a problem. A big one. Everyone was clear on when to use this number—only if something has gone terribly wrong.
My stomach squeezes into a tight knot.
Olivia.
“Hold that thought. This must be my contact for getting you a preview of the video.”
It’s a bluff. Only Nash has seen the video and it’s only on his phone, not mine. He made a copy onto a flash drive, but it’s not with him. It’s in a safe place, according to him. But it buys me a couple of minutes, which I apparently need.
“What is it?” I answer.
“They took Olivia.” Gavin’s words and the steel in his voice make my chest feel tight.
Holy shit, they’ve got her! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!
It’s arguably my worst fear to date. And it’s happening. Right now.
“Where?” I ask, mindful of the enforcer standing not too far from me.
“I followed them to a small brick house in Macon. Looks like a hide out.”
“Are you…prepared?”
“Mate, I’m always prepared.”
“I’ll call you back.”
My thoughts are racing through ways to get us out of this. Giving them another bargaining chip—the ultimate bargaining chip, as far as I’m concerned—was never part of the plan.
Outwardly casual, I smile at the big guy, turning just enough so that I can keep the smaller guy, Duffy, in my peripheral vision.
“Change of plans. I’ll give you the books for the girl, but I’m holding on to the video as insurance.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t believe you have video.”
He takes a slow step toward me, one meant to be intimidating. And it is. I won’t lie.
I take one step back.
“You’ll get a preview of the video when you get the books, but the new deal is that you let us go and we can arrange another meeting for the video trade.”
“Another trade? For what?”
“I know you took her.” Even saying the words makes me furious—at them, at myself, at my father. My pulse pounds in my ears and my hands shake with the desire to tear into this guy.
His upper lip twitches.
“Give me books and video or she’s dead.”
“No deal. It’s my way or you’ll never get what you want.”
“No, it’s my way or she dies.” He takes another step toward me, only this one isn’t slow. It’s aggressive. I’ve made him angry. “And, just for the aggravation, I’ll make it slow. I might even let some of these boys have fun with her before I kill her.”
A blinding combination of fear and rage drops down over me. I can’t think past the vision his words conjures and the fury and panic it inspires.
Before I can give the wisdom of it a second thought, my fist is flying through the air toward the big Bratva. It connects with his steely jaw and I hear a crunch. Whether his jaw or my hand, I can’t be sure. I’m numb to any pain that I might otherwise be feeling.
He’s so taken off guard by someone willing to actually touch him, he stumbles back two steps, giving me a momentary advantage. And I jump on it.
I come across with my left elbow, smashing it into his face as hard as I can. I push my position and keep pounding away at him—left, right, left, right, fist, fist, elbow, fist.
I barely hear the sound of the motorcycle approaching and I barely feel the arm that wraps around my neck from behind and starts to squeeze. It’s only when my air is cut off that I pause in my assault on the Russian. Duffy has me in a pretty tight choke hold.
Before I can throw him off, the big Russian plants one fist in my stomach, doubling me over. His knee meets my cheekbone next, knocking me to one side as light explodes behind my eye.
Blood is buzzing in my ears as I struggle to catch my breath. I’m gasping, staring at the ground, and I see the Russian’s wing tips retreat one step. My head is getting fuzzy from lack of oxygen and the only thing I can think of is that no one wears wing tips with a track suit.
My vision starts to blur when I hear the sound of a gun slide being drawn back to jack a round into the chamber. It’s an ominous sound, but Nash’s voice is even more so.
“Let him go or I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”
I know both of these guys have guns. My attack on the big one and the subsequent involvement of the little one served as the perfect distraction for Nash to move in and get the upper hand.
The grip around my neck eases enough that I can catch my breath. I inhale and straighten, expanding my lungs and gulping in air. After two deep breaths, my vision clears and I see the Russian glaring at me. His eyes aren’t cold anymore. They’re furious. And deadly.
“You boys, you make big mistake,” the big one says, wiping blood from his dripping nose and mouth with the back of his hand. Then, never taking his eyes off mine, he spits at my feet. “We don’t bargain.”
“That’s funny because I was under the impression you brought me here today to bargain.”
“I brought you here today to kill you,” he says, deadpan.
“Not much of a negotiator, are you?”
“With one phone call, she’ll be dead. Also, if I don’t call with instructions within the hour, she’ll be dead. No matter what you do, she’ll be dead.” My heart freezes inside my chest at the prospect. “Unless you give me what I want.”
He calls behind him again, to whoever is in the van. “Duffy, put her in car.”
I watch a smaller, more American-looking version of the guy in front of me step out of the van, scoop Marissa up, throw her roughly over his shoulder and carry her to the BMW. He opens the back passenger door and flings her onto the back seat. Through the still-open driver’s side, I can hear her muffled sobs. I don’t know if they’re sobs of pain or relief.
“Now, give me books,” he repeats, like I’m an obstinate child he’s running out of patience with.
My heart tries to hammer its way past my ribs as I hand him the blank ledgers. As I suspected, he flips through them. When he raises his cold eyes to me, if possible, they’re even colder.
“I thought you’d be smarter than this. Your father, not so smart. Look what happened to him.” He pauses meaningfully. “And to his family.”
Fire races along my veins at his reference to my mother and her horrific death. “Things are going to be different this time. You’re going to let us leave here with the books and you’re going to assure me, on behalf of you and your boss and all your shitbag associates, that no one will ever come near me, my family or my friends again. Because if you do, the books will be the least of your worries.”
“What makes you think I do that?”
“Because we have video. Very damning video of the trigger man at the dock that day seven years ago. A man that can be directly linked to Slava.” Slava is the leader of the Bratva cell in the South. “Now I can promise you that, as long as everyone I’ve ever known or met remains safe, this video will never see the light of day. But if—”
The cell phone in my pocket rings. My heart skips a beat. There’s a problem. A big one. Everyone was clear on when to use this number—only if something has gone terribly wrong.
My stomach squeezes into a tight knot.
Olivia.
“Hold that thought. This must be my contact for getting you a preview of the video.”
It’s a bluff. Only Nash has seen the video and it’s only on his phone, not mine. He made a copy onto a flash drive, but it’s not with him. It’s in a safe place, according to him. But it buys me a couple of minutes, which I apparently need.
“What is it?” I answer.
“They took Olivia.” Gavin’s words and the steel in his voice make my chest feel tight.
Holy shit, they’ve got her! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!
It’s arguably my worst fear to date. And it’s happening. Right now.
“Where?” I ask, mindful of the enforcer standing not too far from me.
“I followed them to a small brick house in Macon. Looks like a hide out.”
“Are you…prepared?”
“Mate, I’m always prepared.”
“I’ll call you back.”
My thoughts are racing through ways to get us out of this. Giving them another bargaining chip—the ultimate bargaining chip, as far as I’m concerned—was never part of the plan.
Outwardly casual, I smile at the big guy, turning just enough so that I can keep the smaller guy, Duffy, in my peripheral vision.
“Change of plans. I’ll give you the books for the girl, but I’m holding on to the video as insurance.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t believe you have video.”
He takes a slow step toward me, one meant to be intimidating. And it is. I won’t lie.
I take one step back.
“You’ll get a preview of the video when you get the books, but the new deal is that you let us go and we can arrange another meeting for the video trade.”
“Another trade? For what?”
“I know you took her.” Even saying the words makes me furious—at them, at myself, at my father. My pulse pounds in my ears and my hands shake with the desire to tear into this guy.
His upper lip twitches.
“Give me books and video or she’s dead.”
“No deal. It’s my way or you’ll never get what you want.”
“No, it’s my way or she dies.” He takes another step toward me, only this one isn’t slow. It’s aggressive. I’ve made him angry. “And, just for the aggravation, I’ll make it slow. I might even let some of these boys have fun with her before I kill her.”
A blinding combination of fear and rage drops down over me. I can’t think past the vision his words conjures and the fury and panic it inspires.
Before I can give the wisdom of it a second thought, my fist is flying through the air toward the big Bratva. It connects with his steely jaw and I hear a crunch. Whether his jaw or my hand, I can’t be sure. I’m numb to any pain that I might otherwise be feeling.
He’s so taken off guard by someone willing to actually touch him, he stumbles back two steps, giving me a momentary advantage. And I jump on it.
I come across with my left elbow, smashing it into his face as hard as I can. I push my position and keep pounding away at him—left, right, left, right, fist, fist, elbow, fist.
I barely hear the sound of the motorcycle approaching and I barely feel the arm that wraps around my neck from behind and starts to squeeze. It’s only when my air is cut off that I pause in my assault on the Russian. Duffy has me in a pretty tight choke hold.
Before I can throw him off, the big Russian plants one fist in my stomach, doubling me over. His knee meets my cheekbone next, knocking me to one side as light explodes behind my eye.
Blood is buzzing in my ears as I struggle to catch my breath. I’m gasping, staring at the ground, and I see the Russian’s wing tips retreat one step. My head is getting fuzzy from lack of oxygen and the only thing I can think of is that no one wears wing tips with a track suit.
My vision starts to blur when I hear the sound of a gun slide being drawn back to jack a round into the chamber. It’s an ominous sound, but Nash’s voice is even more so.
“Let him go or I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”
I know both of these guys have guns. My attack on the big one and the subsequent involvement of the little one served as the perfect distraction for Nash to move in and get the upper hand.
The grip around my neck eases enough that I can catch my breath. I inhale and straighten, expanding my lungs and gulping in air. After two deep breaths, my vision clears and I see the Russian glaring at me. His eyes aren’t cold anymore. They’re furious. And deadly.
“You boys, you make big mistake,” the big one says, wiping blood from his dripping nose and mouth with the back of his hand. Then, never taking his eyes off mine, he spits at my feet. “We don’t bargain.”
“That’s funny because I was under the impression you brought me here today to bargain.”
“I brought you here today to kill you,” he says, deadpan.
“Not much of a negotiator, are you?”
“With one phone call, she’ll be dead. Also, if I don’t call with instructions within the hour, she’ll be dead. No matter what you do, she’ll be dead.” My heart freezes inside my chest at the prospect. “Unless you give me what I want.”
