Page 56 of Bratva Daddies for the Single Mom

“Drop the money halfway up the stairs and wait at the bottom. I’ll walk Annie down and release her once I have the cash.” He brandished the pistol. “And don’t try anything. I’m an excellent shot.”

Annie caught my gaze, then darted a look toward Kent. She ran a hand across her ribs, crooked one finger, then pointed at her feet.

Kent swiveled to face me. “Ilya, move closer to Fyodor. I don’t like all three of you standing so far apart.”

“No.” I shrugged when Viktor shot me a furious glare. “I’m here to protect Viktor’s back. You could have any number of men waiting to pick us off. You’ve set your rules. Now we set ours. Fyodor is bringing you the money.”

Fyodor stepped carefully onto the lowest step and tested it.

“It’s fine,” Kent snapped.

“Like I would trust your word,” Fyodor scoffed. He continued up the rusty stairs one by one until he reached the landing in the middle. Metal creaked and groaned but held as he deposited the black duffel in the center of the landing and walked backward down the steps.

Annie’s hands fluttered around her ribs again. When she saw me looking, she mimed what looked like the motions for cocking a gun, then rubbed her ribs and pointed at Kent.

The man was too busy watching Fyodor to notice her slight movements. Was she trying to warn me? Kent had done one thing right this whole time. With the gun to her head and Annie’s body as his shield, he’d left me with no opportunity to take him down. It would come. I steadied myself and harnessed the adrenaline. Time ticked in slow motion as Kent pushed Annie ahead of him. They descended step by step, the gun at Annie’s head never wavering.

She’d gone pale again, and I mentally cursed Kent with every Russian and American curse I knew, then started making up new ones. He was not getting away from me. I knew this building. I’d scoped it out several times through the years and checked it over again before we ever entered. The office Kent had hidden in with Annie held a second door on the other side of the room that led to a catwalk. The catwalk led to a door at the upper floor that opened up to a fire escape. That was Kent’s only possible exit, and he’d find me there waiting for him.

They reached the landing, and the three of us took a single, collective breath. Kent reached for the money, which forced him to lower the gun from Annie’s head. I itched to rush him but held my ground. I couldn’t get there fast enough if he decided to pull the trigger.

Kent grabbed the zipper and yanked the bag open, then swept a device over the bag, grunting when it kept quiet. “Good. No tracking devices. I worried you might try and trick me.” He straightened with a snarl, the bag in his hand. His gun hand lifted, shoving straight into Annie’s back.

She stumbled forward with a cry of shock. Her arms flailed, her toe catching on the edge of the rusty stairs, and she tumbled down with a series of sickening thuds and screams of pain. All three of us lunged for her. Too late.

She hit the last three steps with her back, the somersaulting motion throwing her to the concrete. Her head smacked hard and sharp, her skull bouncing before she came to rest beneath our outstretched arms.

“Ilya.” Viktor barked my name.

I jerked toward him. “What?”

“Take care of Kent.” He checked Annie. “She’s breathing. Fyodor and I will do what we can. He dies. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” I unleashed all the pent-up anger I’d harbored since Kent called to tell us he’d taken Annie and ran back the way we’d entered. Muggy night air brushed my cheeks, my steps turning light and quick. Lessons my father taught me took over. Never rush into a situation, even when you’re positive of the outcome. Worry for Annie threatened to overpower me. As much as I hated to do it, I pushed it into a box and filed it away for later. The only emotion I needed was anger. Revenge. Power. I flew on silent feet down the empty alley, slowing to a stop when the fire escape came into view. Kent scurried down faster than I’d anticipated. He reached the last step and hung suspended.His jacket flared open, giving me a perfect view of the twin holsters tucked away in his armpits. Ah, so that was what Annie wanted me to know. That meant he had another gun at his ankle.

I palmed the gun from the small of my back, raised it, and fired two shots in rapid succession, one in each wrist. Bones shattered, the fragments illuminated in the moonlight.

Kent screamed and fell with a sickening crunch, his ankles giving way when he landed wrong. “You fucking bastard.” He rolled on the ground with both hands curled to his chest. “You shot me.”

“Wounded, not dead.” I stalked him, making sure he saw every step of his demise. “You don’t deserve a quick death. If I had my way, I’d torture you for days. Weeks.” I returned the gun to the holster and withdrew my knife. The long blade shone silver when I tipped it back and forth. “Better a quick death than to spend more time away from Annie.”

I ripped open his shirt and carved a message into his skin using the tip of the knife. He bellowed and twisted, but I had years of practice and my words remained crisp and clear. Anyone who saw Miles Kent would know exactly the kind of man he was.

Blood trickled from the wounds, running down his ribs and onto the asphalt. I leaned over him, the blade at his throat. “This is what happens when you take what is not yours.” I slit his throat, wiped the blade clean on his jacket, and walked away. His gurgling breaths and wheezes followed me until I reached the alley. Only when they stopped did I turn and give him one last look to ensure the job was finished.

Dead eyes stared at me, one arm flopped in my direction and the other draped over his crimson-stained neck.

I spat on the ground. “Good riddance.” Regret that I’d not had more time to truly punish him fought for dominance. He deserved every second of agony I’d been trained to give.

Annie mattered more. I jogged toward the front where we’d entered the building. Fyodor stood there with a phone to his ear. “Thank you, Doctor Roman.”

Fucking shit. He’d called Viktor’s personal doctor. My heart took a nosedive. “Where?”

“We’re taking her home. She’s alive but hasn’t woken up. Doctor Roman walked Viktor through the proper procedure to make sure it was safe to move her. I’ve called the crew for Kent. They’ll be here soon.”

The crew would take care of Kent’s body and wipe the place clean of our presence. When Kent’s body resurfaced, everyone would know we were responsible, but like everyone else I’d killed, they would never find evidence or even the location of his demise.

A newspaper skittered down the street, the paper fluttering and flapping as it spun around, then end over end without any correction, course, or purpose. We were the opposite. Everything we did had purpose. Except Annie. We’d been enamored of her from the beginning. The way I felt about her had no reason, no purpose. It threatened to smooth my killing instinct while also honing it when I thought of her in danger. Killing had always been easy for me. My and Viktor’s fathers ensured that it became so deeply ingrained in me that it came as instinctually as breathing. I’d killed for Viktor for years without remorse or regret. I’d killed for Annie, and I would kill for her children. Not one fucking person would walk away if they hurt her. If I found out Kent had hurt her and lied about it, I’d find my revenge in ways that shocked even me. My thoughts turned as chaotic as the newspaper, the constant spiral giving way to a wave of anger so intense my body shuddered.

---