Page 55 of Scarred Sunrise

Chapter 23

“Rykov came through for us.I’m meeting him in twenty minutes at the entrance to Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood.”

Smithy cocked a brow. “He has a sense of humour, then.”

“Yeah, he’s a real comedian.”

Zin wasn’t finding any amusement in this and Smithy understood it. He had a baby on the way now, and that changed everything. He hoped one day he’d get that chance, but if he didn’t, he’d still consider himself blessed to have Lizzie in his life.

“I’ll come with you.”

Zin didn’t object, and neither did Zack, who was working on locating John or Nazareli, who was radio silent. He had a horrible feeling she was going to end up a casualty of this if she wasn’t careful.

He pulled his hat down low for warmth and to offer himself some cover as he and Zin made their way towards the Russian Orthodox church. The church had been erected on the site where Emperor Alexander II was assassinated in March 1881 by the Romanov family.

It was hard not to admire the beauty of the place with the arches and domes in pink marble. Inside he glanced around, clocking the exits and the number of people in the building, and noted four visitors and two guards that looked suspiciously like Bratva. Up ahead in one of the pews, a man sat alone, his dark head bent, the custom suit he wore probably costing more than Smithy earned in a month.

Zin nodded to the man, and they walked in that direction before two men with pistols stepped in front of them. Zin said something in sneering Russian, the words sharp and angry even to his untrained ears. The two men paled and turned at the sound of their boss chuckling.

“You still are a legend even in these parts, my friend.” Rykov stood and waved his men away, who willingly moved back from him and Zin.

“How is the family, Rykov?” Zin asked in English.

Rykov replied in flawless English. “They are well. I hear you’re settled now and are to be married?”

“Yes, that is true, and you? No wife yet, Rykov?”

“Alas, I have not found a woman who will put up with me.”

“More like you have not found one willing to settle for your wandering eye.”

Rykov laughed. “Perhaps.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and Smithy tensed, his hand going to his own gun. Rykov met his eyes with a cold stare that showed exactly how he ran the Bratva here and controlled the older generals who thought he was too young to rule.

Pulling out a slip of paper, he handed it to Zin as he dismissed Smithy. “Here is the location of one Nazareli Holt. My men are guarding her location. I believe she will know where to find this Winslow woman.”

“Thank you, Rykov. I owe you.”

Rykov clasped Zin on the shoulder. “No, you do not. I’m protecting my family. You kill this woman, and we’re square once again.”

“She’ll die, don’t worry.” Smithy bit out calling Rykov’s attention.

“You have a score to settle.”

“Yes.”

“Then I believe you had better settle it.”

They left with a last goodbye, Zin at his absolute max for small talk and friendliness. He checked the slip of paper as Zin drove the short distance to a poorer part of town made up of small, derelict properties.

They walked past Rykov’s men as they ascended the three flights of stairs past broken panes of glass, old fast-food wrappers in the hallway, and flickering light bulbs to the door at the far end.

He knocked and called out her name. “Nazareli, it’s me Smithy.”

Silence met their ears and the hair on the back of his neck prickled at the unnatural silence. Sliding his gun from his holster, he nodded at Zin who had done the same and counted back. On one, Zin kicked the door in, the wood splintering as they moved in, scanning the room and finding blood on the floor. They cleared the main room and the bedroom but found Nazareli on the bathroom floor, covered in blood.

He dropped to his knees, looking for a pulse and finding a weak and thready one in her neck. She had a stab wound to her abdomen that was bleeding steadily, the cold the only thing that had kept her from bleeding out already.