Page 81 of In Her Blood
Grisha stood to his full height and took a step forward. “You run your mouth just like Pyotr, I see. Uselessblyad.” He extended his gun sideways, toward Iouri.
Otto tensed as the breath caught in Evelina’s chest.
She thought she heard one of the men behind her click his tongue, and then, a single word. “Nope.”
Grisha jerked back, his Glock clattering to the ground and his men swinging their weapons forward. But only the one shot rang out, as if everyone understood that this moment was a sort of test.
Evelina didn’t fully understand it. Her ears were ringing from the gunshot, she remembered seeing the arm extend into her peripheral vision, and she could see for herself that Grisha was clutching his arm. Hisarm. She cut a look over her shoulder in time to see Romeo lowering his gun as though the Morozovs didn’t still have theirs aimed. “His arm?”
He shrugged. “We promised you dibs. But I have limits.”
A jarring ripping sound yanked Evelina’s attention forward and she saw Grisha roughly fashioning a tourniquet, or bandage, for the wound that seemed to be near the base of his hand. Romeo had damn near shot the Glock straight out of Grisha’s hand.
Grisha lifted a glare toward them as he released the fabric’s tattered edge, keeping his hand pressed high on his chest. “I can see I shouldn’t have been so hasty. Are you showing me that you’ve come prepared to replace Voronin with these”—a sneer twisted his lips—“Italian dress-up dolls?”
Outrage sparked inside her and it was harder than it should have been not to pull her hand free of Otto’s and march up until she could scream into Grisha’s face. She had to settle for expressing her displeasure in sharp words. “I really want to carve that sneer off your face,” she said, “with a dull serrated knife.”
Grisha had the gall to look amused.
“I could help with that,” Mikey said.
“One thing at a time, brother,” Dante said, stepping forward to stand parallel with Evelina. A small space remained between them—room for Romeo to aim and shoot, she suspected. “Grisha, was it? You still seem to be under the impression you’re in control here. But regardless of the insults you sling, I assure you, you are not.”
Grisha shifted his glare to Dante. “I’m not interested in dealing with more Italian pop-ups,” he snapped. “Your era is over.” His gaze snapped back to Evelina, but whatever he was about to say next was cut off when Dante spoke again.
“Such an interesting choice of words for such an ignorant fool.”
Evelina turned her head as subtly as she could to speak softly over her shoulder while Grisha was distracted. “Romeo, can you hit that man with his gun aimed at Iouri? Without hitting Iouri?”
“Piece of cake.”
She knew as soon as the first body dropped, the chaos would begin. Their goal was still to rescue Otto’s father and escape with their lives. So it seemed better to be on the side that kicked that bloodshed off. As Grisha mouthed off in response to Dante, Evelina whispered, “Drop him.”
Romeo pulled the trigger.
The gunman behind and between Grisha and Iouri dropped to the ground.
Grisha dove for his Glock and Iouri kicked out with his unbound feet, forcing Grisha to twist away and fumble with the weapon.
Guns went up, someone popped off a shot, and another half-dozen Morozovs crept in from shadows and behind barrels. A moment after that, the once-large space flooded with armed bodies.
Evelina could barely keep the sounds straight. She could definitely hear bullets and shouting, but there were other sounds, too. Slamming, crashing, wood cracking, and of course, cries of sudden pain. The air began to fill with the scent of whichever liquor was being housed in the nearest barrels, as stray bullets and crash bodies had fractured their structure.
Otto swung her around as something sailed overhead, grunting a curse against her hair.
Evelina blew out a sour breath and did her best to look around, to take stock.
Dante had two men on the floor and one hand still in his pocket, a look on his face like he was offended the pair had even tried.
Romeo was a few feet away, bashing another guy’s face in with the butt of one of her lost weapons.
Mikey had traded his tablet for a knife and was stepping away from the body of a man with a freshly slit throat. Mikey’s words from a short while before flashed through her mind.“He’s not prepared for the war he’s really starting.”
Evelina bounced her gaze around some more, watching as men from St. Louis and more men from Indianapolis worked side-by-side, and alongside a few guys from New Jersey, tocrush the batch of Morozovs who’d been set to ambush her. The Morozovs had come thinking they would crush the last heir of their long-time foe. But Mikey had been right.
They weren’t at all prepared for this slaughter.
It was empowering.
