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“Do I want to know?” I gape at her.
“Probably not.” She shrugs, shoving one of the guns into the waistband of her jeans neatly concealed by her jacket. “I’m ready.”
She goes back onto the balcony as we hear the door to the room we were in being pounded against.
“What are you doing?”
“I think our best bet is to jump onto the balcony below and get out that way,” Isabella tells me.
“No fucking way.” I shake my head. “You’re pregnant now.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you take the sonogram?”
I nod and pat my pocket, pulling it out. “I have it.” I show her and she breathes a sigh of relief.
“It’s better than us getting shot,” she reasons. “And we don’t have much time.”
Fuck! This is not going to end well. I nod and we head back out the balcony door, once again closing to make it look like it hasn’t been used.
We carefully climb over the railing, looking down at the balcony below. It’s a risky jump, but it’s our only option. Isabella goes first, landing gracefully and quietly. I follow, feeling the adrenaline surge as I hit the ground next to her.
We move quickly, our breaths visible in the cold night air. I scan the area, listening for any signs of pursuit. Isabella leads the way, her movements swift and deliberate. We scale down another story, using the decorative ledges and pipes as handholds.
Finally, we reach the ground and slip into the shadows, leaving the hotel’s lights behind us. We move stealthily through the grounds, avoiding the main paths, and make our way to the parking area.
“There,” Isabella whispers, pointing to a dark SUV parked in the corner. “That’s our ticket out of here.”
We hurry to the vehicle, and I force the door open. She slides into the passenger seat, and I take the wheel, hot-wiring the ignition. The engine roars to life, and I floor the accelerator, speeding away from the hotel.
As we drive, the tension begins to ease, but my anger simmers beneath the surface. I glance at Isabella, her face illuminated by the dashboard lights. She’s staring out the window, lost in thought as the SUV speeds through the night.
“We’re going to have to let Konstantin know that we’ve had to change the plan,” I tell her. “Do you know where the car rental place is?”
“It’s near the edge of town but it won’t be open,” Isabella tells me.
“I think your brother can sort that out.”
“Not if he’s at the lodge,” she points out. “We could always steal another car.”
“Let’s get to the rental place and see what’s there. Your brother mentioned that the owner of the place was a friend of the Zhukovs.”
Isabella finds the place on the phone Konstantin gave her and directs me there. We pull up into the drive and she notices curtains moving in a flat above the place.
“I think someone lives up there,” Isabella points out as I stop the SUV.
We’ve barely stopped the car when it’s surrounded by five men sporting mean looking automatic weapons.
“Get out the car with your hands in the air,” a man with a Latino accent tells them.
We do as he asks and his men frisk us taking our guns.
“I’m Andrey Belov and this is my wife—“ I don’t get to finish the sentence when the man who ordered us out of the car’s face lights up.
“Little Isabella Moretti?” He waves the guns down. He comes closer. “It is you. You look just like your momma.”
“You know my family?”
“Oh, yes.” He nods a big grin splitting his face. “Your mama’s family saved mine. I’m Rodrigo.” He looks at the car. “This is your SUV?”
