Page 35 of Saint

After hiding the SUV a couple of miles back, Saint trudged through the snow, staying off the road, but within view of it. He was confident the food truck would arrive in the designated delivery window—between nine and four—and he would be ready.

Once he got close to the checkpoint, which consisted of several small gatehouses, he used the enormous snow mounds as cover. Lying flat on his belly, he crawled forward, hunkered down in a good spot and checked his watch. If he was lucky,his ride would be one of the first trucks to arrive. Otherwise, he might be waiting all day.

Wishing he had a cigarette, he unwrapped a stick of gum, popped it into his mouth and settled in to wait. Luck was on his side and, before he could freeze to the ground, he saw the food truck rumbling up the road. Only one man was at the guard station, looking bored, and when the truck rolled up, Saint moved out from behind the snow drift and stealthily crawled beneath the vehicle.

He watched two sets of feet move around to the rear, heard the back door open and waited patiently while the cargo was checked and crates were counted. Ready to move, he saw the men exit and, while they signed off on paperwork, Saint hauled ass. He slid out from underneath the truck and hopped into the open back door. His window of opportunity was slim and he’d barely ducked down behind a crate when the driver returned and re-locked the back door.

Whew.Relief filled him as the truck began to roll forward. Without a moment to spare, he pulled a crowbar from his backpack, carefully pried an edge open, and slipped into the container. Surrounded by bananas and mangoes, he wedged himself in, pulling the lid back in place. Hopefully security would be too lax to notice.

Taking in big, deep breaths through his nose, he exhaled calmly through his mouth, doing his best not to panic within the enclosed space. Fortunately, the carton had slats and was large enough that he didn’t feel trapped. He could see out, keep an eye on his surroundings, and that made him feel better.

There was no turning back now.

It wasn’t long before the truck stopped to be unloaded and he heard voices outside the vehicle. Not daring to breathe, he waited, on the verge of heading back into the demon’s belly. He owed Petrov a bullet in the head, but he’d settle for something even better. His plan had to work. He’d been waiting far too long for his revenge.

The crate he was in rumbled as the forklift arms picked it up and then set it down with a thunk in the drop-off zone.

Moment of truth.Before the containers could be opened and inspected, Saint pushed the lid off and climbed out. He carefully listened and timed the movement of the forklift. When the coast was clear, he ran for the door that led him into Petrov’s domain.

Avoiding security cams was child’s play. He’d helped install most of them, so he knew exactly where to duck down in order to stay out of sight. At one point, he’d even tried to persuade Petrov to install more, but the man had laughed and said no one would be stupid enough to attempt breaking into his home. Because if they did—well, they were as good as dead.

Apparently, Saint was about to put that theory to the test for a third time.

The first time, he’d been deep undercover with the FSS. End result? Caught and tortured for days on end by Petrov.

The second time, he’d snuck in with Dash Slater to steal back some crazy compound called T-Force. End result? Again, caught and tortured. Luckily, Slater’s team and a couple of SEAL friends had dropped in and saved the day.

Now, he was once again sneaking into the devil’s lair, believing he wouldn’t be caught and tortured.But, hey, third time’s the charm, right?

Honestly, getting in wasn’t the problem. The real trick was getting out. And this time he had to do it with Dr. Zaitsev and Nadia’s man in tow. He also had to keep his wits about him and not succumb to a panic attack. The escape tunnel he was counting on using was dark and narrow. In other words, his worst fucking nightmare. He also wouldn’t have Mia to talk him down and soothe him.

Adrenaline pumping, pistol in hand, Saint wove through the compound maze like he’d been living there just yesterday. Some things you never forget, and his time with the Bratva was one of them. If he could erase every awful memory from his mind, he would. But, the terrible things he’d seen and done were burned into his brain and branded on his skin.

Making his way on silent boots, he moved forward like a ghost until he reached the back staircase that would lead him down to the cells. He didn’t know what to expect once he reached the basement level. Sometimes Petrov had a guard down there, other times he didn’t.

Cautiously, he opened the door a crack and peered down the hallway, assessing the situation. A lone, black-inked guard sat at a desk, feet propped up, watching a small television set. He was completely absorbed in the show. On silent feet, Saint crept up behind him and before the man even knew what was happening, Saint reached around and tightened his thick forearm around the guard’s neck. The guard thrashed and kicked, his feet hitting the desk and nearly knocking the TV off, but Saint ended it with a quick snap. He let go and turned to see both Zaitsev and Nadia’s man.

“Who’re you?” Alexei asked, fingers wrapped around the bars.

“A friend of Nadia’s,” Saint answered, then eyed the chemist. Zaitsev should have no idea who he was, so Saint added, “I work for The Agency and I’m here to get you both out.”

“Thank God,” Dr. Zaitsev murmured, slumping in relief. “The Bratva wants the formula for Novichok.”

Saint snagged the keys off the guard’s body and moved closer to the cell. Guess he wouldn’t get to play with the MVT today. “Did you give it to them?”

“I had to. They were going to kill me,” he whined.

“Did you make a batch?” He needed confirmation for the second part of his plan.

Zaitsev nodded. “I’m sorry. Petrov had a gun to my head.”

“In gas form?”

“Yes.”

Saint grinned. Good. Exactly what he wanted to hear. “C’mon, you’re making another batch right now,” he said, and Zaitsev’s eyes widened.

The lab area had been upgraded and Saint thanked his lucky stars it was just up the hallway. They moved fast and, once inside, Saint shut the door and locked it. He quickly scanned for cameras, locating only one. Aiming at the lens above, he pulled the trigger on one of his gadgets and a dense, black substance shot out and covered the lens, hardening on contact within seconds. It was one of his favorite toys.

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