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Katya opened the door, her head peeking outside. Her hand gestured for her. “The coast is clear.”
“Really? Even Baran is gone?” She could hardly believe her shadow would leave her side.
Katya flushed. “I might have told him that I’m keeping an eye on you for him. Besides, no one would expect you to just make a run for it while being surrounded by all of them. Also, they’re distracted. I think the men are using Viking’s upcoming marriage as an excuse to go through Kristoff’s good vodka.”
A pang of regret hit her hard. Thinking of Viking being tied to another woman forever made her nauseous. Catching him with her cousin had wounded her and made her bleed in places she didn’t know a person could feel anything. But even then, she had always held on to the hope that one day they would be together, silly and impossible as it may have seemed. Oddly, it had never crossed her mind that one day he would get married to someone else.
She must have stood frozen in place for a while because Katya turned to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Don’t be.” She should’ve known that this day would come. Maybe it was a good thing. Now she could close that chapter in her life for good. No need to cling to the impossible dream of her eighteen-year-old self. Because Viking would never leave his wife. There was no divorce in his world.
“I know what it’s like to—” Katya shook her head. “Never mind. Can’t go there. I should never go there.” She rolled her eyes and plastered a smile on her face, but Elena could spot the underlying pain.
Sensing the girl’s need to change the subject she asked, “Are you sure you won’t get into trouble for helping me?”
Katya waved her concern away. “Denial is key. As long as they don’t see us leaving this room together, I’ll be fine. Let them prove I busted you out.”
Katya poked her head out of the door and peered down the hall, then she gave a thumbs-up. Elena tried to channel the same confidence as they left the room together. Katya pointed to the left, silently telling her where to go, and then took off to the right, as they parted ways.
She would forever be in Katya’s debt. She made another left, then took the stairs. This part of the house seemed abandoned. When she heard feet approaching, she jumped behind a door and plastered her back against the wall. Two men talking in Russian passed her. She waited until she could no longer hear them and continued on her path. According to Katya’s description of the premises, she needed to take a right turn and then she’d walk straight into the garage. Katya would be waiting for her there and smuggle her out. There was no other way to leave this place unless someone would open the door for her.
Just as she reached a hallway and turned left, she bumped into a body. An odor of sweat and liquor hit her nose.
She immediately stepped back, but greedy arms pulled her close.
“Now what do we have here? A treat for me?” the man said. His words were heavily accented. Russian.
She yelped when his hand groped her ass. Grinding her teeth, she stomped on his foot until he let her go.
“Suka!” he hissed and backhanded her.
Elena crashed into a high table against the window, almost taking down a vase with her. Her cheek felt on fire. Putting a hand against the wall, she pushed herself up. She had barely regained her balance when he yanked her back to his chest.
“Everything okay, Vasili?”
She turned her head, hoping to find a friendly face, someone who would help her out. Sadly, this man looked nothing but helpful.
“Leave us, Yuri.” Vasili sounded annoyed.
Yuri’s lips thinned. “She’s Viking’s.”
A grin appeared on Vasili’s face, turning his pudgy face into a terrifying canvas. And somehow, she just knew. This man wanted to hurt her, yes, but he wanted to hurt Viking even more.
Without giving it another thought, she grabbed the vase and smashed it onto Vasili’s head.
CHAPTER 13
VIKING
Sprawled in a recliner, Viking downed another glass of vodka. The liquor burned hot all the way to his stomach. Across from him sat Sokolov, next to Kristoff. After nursing countless bottles to celebrate his upcoming nuptials, the rest of the men had finally settled down. They’d been going over numbers for the past hour. The rest of the Russians were probably still downstairs, drinking like fish. They never left a bottle full.
Vasili, who drank more than Viking just to show he could out-drink him, had decided to turn in, leaving the three of them alone. Viking suspected he had other plans for the night, not that he gave a crap. According to Damon, the brigadier had a mistress in San Fran, like he probably had in many places across the globe. It didn’t matter. They had shaken hands on their deal, and a new line for their gun trade had been established.
“Nazdrovnia!” Sokolov saluted one more time. “May she give you many sons.”
Viking suspected the old man wasn’t as drunk as he pretended. After all, this was the man who had shaped Kristoff. The man who had forged him like steel, beating him, teaching him, until their fierce leader had turned stone cold and calculating, but also fiercely loyal to the ones he considered family.
