Page 20 of Sinful Bride

“Lock him in here. Have Ilya send someone to fetch him later. I need a copy of this feed, someone to call Tomei, and you to come with me.”

Sofi falls in step beside me, getting on her phone and barking orders in Russian to every man involved.

I’m going to skin them alive. I’m going to fucking flay each one of the Hamishes as they watch, and I’m going to feed their skins to this fucking so-called guard?—

“We’ll find her.” Sofi gentles her voice in an empty corridor, suddenly my sister again. “She’ll be safe. She’ll be fine. They’re not going to do something stupid.”

“They put my daughter in a fucking bag.” I want to punch the wall and vomit at the same time when the words leave my tongue. “They already did the last stupid thing they’ll ever do.”

8

PASHA

For probably the first time in my life, when I hear sirens and see the flashing red, white, and blue lights strobing through the windows, I’m grateful.

Police officers rush through the building, doubling the search in progress spearheaded by my vors and their men. Doors burst open on every floor, and medical teams drop whatever they’re doing that isn’t life-threatening to help check the occupied rooms.

It’s been fifteen minutes of this fucking bullshit and I am on my very last frayed nerve.

And then?—

“Vlad just called.” Sofi nudges me to take a right instead of left at a corridor intersection. “He found them.”

I damn near kick the cafeteria doors in.

Right on cue, Stewart fucking Hamish leaps to his feet in the center of the crowded dining hall and points a bony finger at me.

“You couldn’t keep your own daughter safe!” His screeching only spurs me on, and no one wants to be in my path. When he sees the crowd isn’t stopping me, he scrambles backward against the table. “How can I trust you to keep my daughter safe?! You just?—”

My fist connects with his face. Stewart falls back on the table with a groan, blood trickling from his nose. He shuts the fuck up, and he’ll stay that way if he knows what’s good for him.

The sight makes Ophelia scream. I whip around to see her cowering at a different table, hugging the bag to her chest.

I’ve never hit a woman before. I swore I never would.

This might be an exception.

“Give me the bag.” My fingers flex, torn between wanting to grab the bag from her and wanting to throttle her unconscious.

For once, Ophelia does the right thing and hands me the bag. I’m careful not to grab too hard, but I’m also quick to take it away from her and far out of her reach.

I set the bag down on one of the tables and carefully pull the zipper open. My heart pounds in my ears, deafening all other sounds save for the tiny murmurs of my baby girl.

“There you are.” My voice cracks. I’m trying to be gentle with my daughter and a force to be reckoned with to everyone else, but honestly—I’m just so fucking relieved she’s alive. Alive, safe, and seemingly unaware of the adventure she’s been on.

Taty yawns as I gingerly pick her up out of the bag. When she blinks up at me, all the stress and worry and anxiety flooding my system dissolves.

I slump onto one of the bench seats just to regain feeling in my legs. The relief is overwhelming. I hold her as close to my chest as I can without crushing her, whispering promises that I’m never, ever letting her out of my sight ever again.

Police officers swarm the cafeteria, guns drawn and gazes scanning the area. When they see me holding my baby, they beeline in my direction until Sofi and a bunch of surrounding witnesses point out Stewart and Ophelia and explain everything that went down.

“Since your daughter didn’t leave the premises, this doesn’t qualify as a full-blown kidnapping,” one of the officers eventually explains while his colleagues put the Hamishes in cuffs. “But if you want to press charges?—”

“Yes.” It’s not even a question of “if.” Simply, “when.” “Attempted kidnapping. Bribery. Assault. My lawyer is already drafting the paperwork for a civil suit. We are happy to provide evidence for a criminal case.”

The cop nods. “Very well. We can escort you back up to the room, or…”

I shake my head. “No. Thank you.” He seems like a decent man; I just don’t want to deal with anything more today.

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