Page 92 of Power's Fall

“But how do we actually leave Crimea?” she asked.

“Boat,” Vadisk and Montana said at the same time.

“Our last boat was blown up by a rocket launcher,” Dahlia said slowly, as if worried they’d forgotten.

“This time, we’ll have Sinaver with us on the boat. They can’t blow it up without killing him,” Montana said, then to Vadisk. “You’ll handle Sinaver and I’ll pilot the boat.”

“And this boat that won’t get blown up… We’re going to steal it?” she asked.

“Yep.” During their lazy day yesterday, Montana had looked through Sinaver’s phone and found some very interesting things. His lips twitched because he was pretty sure he knew what Dahlia was going to say next.

“Does that make us pirates?”

Montana grinned.

Vadisk peered at their wife. “I can’t tell if you’re upset or turned on by that idea.”

“I’m not sure either. Let me think about it.”

Montana’s smile turned into a full-on laugh.

Vadisk smiled at him as if Montana’s laugh was a gift. Jesus. He’d just gotten his heart to stop racing, but damn if Vadisk and Dahlia hadn’t found a way to get it starting again, in a much better way.

Then Vadisk’s expression went flat, back to mission ops mode. He looked at his watch. “The Spaniard said he’d be there by afternoon. That means we need to be in place, in Sinaver’s house, by eleven a.m.”

“That’s not a lot of time and we have a lot of ground to cover,” Montana said grimly.

“If it’s daylight outside, I’ll be faster,” Dahlia promised, looking worried.

Daylight or not, they couldn’t do this all on foot, it had been a long drive to Sinaver’s place. “We’re going to need a vehicle.”

“And how are we going to get into Sinaver’s house once we get there?” Dahlia asked.

“If we’re lucky,” Vadisk said slowly. “We’ll be able to take care of both issues at the same time.”

“Okay.” Montana leaned forward. “What’s the plan? Where are we going?”

“Back to Crimean Sky.”

ChapterSixteen

Vadisk glared up at his husband as Montana lifted the towel covering Vadisk’s head and snapped a picture.

“Asshole,” he muttered.

“Absolutely,” Montana agreed with a wide grin, before dropping the towel back into place. Vadisk shoved the towel aside, creating a gap so he could watch as Montana climbed back into his laundry cart. Montana nearly fell as he tried to bring his second leg over. But the universe wasn’t playing fair, and despite the van—which had shit suspension—bouncing and rocking down the road, Montana didn’t fall on his ass.

The two of them were in the back of the white-paneled van they’d liberated from Crimean Sky an hour ago. Vadisk had noticed the dusty vehicle with a laundry company logo on the side during the tour of the resort.

It had taken them longer than he’d liked to make their way back up to the resort, given that they’d had to go uphill without a golf cart and watch for members of Sinaver’s militia. It had taken them a half hour to get down to the beach, but nearly two hours to hike back to the resort.

On their way, they’d been able to peak over a small rise and see their villa, which was swarming with militia.

Dahlia had winced as a man tossed her hard-sided equipment case onto the hood of a truck and opened it. “My poor camera.”

“I have it,” Vadisk told her.

“What?” They’d both looked at him in surprise.

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