Page 81 of Ten

Kostya nodded and glanced at Ilya. “He can be an attacker or a friend. Your choice.”

“A friend,” Ten insisted, refusing to allow Alejandro’s memory to be tarnished.

“Sure.” Ilya’s mouth settled into a grim line. “Can we go now? Before we all die from smoke inhalation and Eric bleeds out?”

Ten situated Eric in the front seat of Ilya’s vehicle. Kostya grabbed his first aid kit and jammed trauma dressings against the wounds while Ilya called 9-1-1. Ten had never heard Ilya pretend to be afraid, but the man had the makings of an Oscar-winning actor.

“Let’s go.” Kostya grabbed Ten by the back of the shirt and hauled him away from the scene. “We need to move.”

Ten climbed into the front seat of Kostya’s vehicle. The fire raged through the cabin, lighting up the inky black sky. He didn’t know if the police would believe a word Ilya said. If Eric woke up and told them something different, it would cause problems.

Problems I can’t worry about right now.

Ten braced himself on the door as Kostya took a turn like a stunt driver from theFast & the Furiousfranchise. “Fuck! Kostya!”

“Calm down.” Kostya pointed at the glove box. “Grab the phone with the red tape on the back. Find Fox in the contacts. Tell her I want all the real-time FAA data and heliport traffic within a 500-mile radius of Houston. She needs to find the helicopter that was in Brazos County fifteen minutes ago. I want our men waiting for me at the warehouse. Stage the spiders at Sunny’s. Get the word on the street that we’re paying good money for intel on Kiki or Nisha.”

Ten did as Kostya instructed, talking to the same woman he had spoken to earlier that day. It felt like a lifetime ago now. She didn’t have any witty questions tonight. She took the message and ended the call without a single word.

“Send a text to Boychenko. I want an update on Chad. Then call Nikolai. Let him know what’s happened.”

Ten didn’t relish that thought. After he sent Boychenko a text, he dialed the boss on his private line.

“Kostya.”

“No, it’s Ten.”

“Ten?” There was rustling in the background. Nikolai’s tone grew concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“We were attacked at the cabin. It’s on fire. Eric is badly hurt. Ilya is taking him to the hospital. The Mexican is dead. I don’t know how many we killed firing back. At least one,” Ten said, thinking of the man upstairs. “And they took Nisha.”

Nikolai muttered a string of profanity. “That’s it. We’re finishing this my way.”

“Kostya has Fox gathering everyone at the warehouse.”

“Fine. I’m going to see Nickel Jackson after I call Besian and Diego.”

The call ended, and Ten almost felt bad for the idiots behind the attack and kidnapping of Nisha. Nikolai didn’t only have pull locally. He had pull internationally, and the long tentacles of Maksim Prokhorov’s criminal family could reach out and strangle anyone.

“He’s going to see Nicky Jackson after he calls Besian and Diego.”

“Good.” Kostya took another hairpin turn, and Ten pushed his foot against the floorboard to keep himself from sliding. Kostya glanced back and frowned. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Ten shifted in his seat to see if they were being followed. He listened intently but heard nothing.

“I keep hearing something scratching back behind us.”

Ten frowned. “Scratching?”

“I know I’m losing my mind now because I thought I heard meowing while you were talking to Nikolai.”

Ten’s pulse spiked. “Wilford! Oh, shit. I forgot him. I left him. Nisha will never forgive me if—.”

Rowowowoww.

Ten froze. “I heard that.”

“See? I’m not crazy!”

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