Page 171 of Silenced

“Of course.”

“And do you want him there?”

I nod.

Luka purses his lips. “Ilya doesn’t even like you. Why do you trust him?”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“If you say so. Want me to keep an eye on him?”

“No need. He’ll do what he’ll do. He’s only a satellite in these proceedings.” I don’t wait for him to reply, just get out of the car.

“Igor! You fat fuck!” Luka greets cheerfully, slapping Igor on the back as he hurries forward to deal with me. “It’s good to see you.”

Igor huffs. “It’s not good to see you, Luka. I’ve dropped at least forty pounds since the last time we met.” Then, to me, he states, “Turgenev’s men were overpowered—they’re all dead. No major casualties on our side, some wounds. Nothing worse than that.”

“Any damage to the jet?”

“No. We were in the hangar by the time the shooting started.”

My lips twist with relief as I rush over to the ambulance when it finds its way onto the tarmac.

Misha opens the door, shouting, “You’re fucking insane.”

Luka whoops. “You think it was insane; I think it was better than a ride at Disney. How closeisDisney to Miami anyway?” He cackles when I glower at him then rubs his chilled hands together. “You haven’t lost your touch, Nikolai.”

Ignoring him, I sign, “How is he, Misha?”

“He woke up when the van rammed into us but passed out again.”

The EMTs, unsurprisingly, appear shaken and are quick to unload Maxim from the ambulance.

As they work fast, I race around the cars, thanking the men for their help, reaffirming the offer to bring them over to the States.

In the end, ten decide to come with me today, enough that we don’t need to charter another plane, but Lev might be right about change coming. No one turns me down. They just thank me and slam their fists to their chests in a show of loyalty that’s freely offered.

Keyword there beingfreely.

As I’m about to retreat to the jet, my long-awaited greeting with Cassiopeia incoming, I get a text.

Boris: I have Rundel.

With glee pummeling me, I’m about to hit the video call button to speak with him, but before I can, my phone rings with an incoming call.

Brow furrowing when I see Iosif Arsenyev, one of my Brigadiers, on the ID, I pick up and rest my cell on the top of a car roof.

“Pakhan,” he greets, his tone grim.

Luka drifts over to me. “Nikolai? What’s going on? Dominik is ready to take off.”

I raise a hand to him then sign, “What’s happening, Iosif?”

“B4K figured out that we were behind their recent troubles. They ambushed one of our offices, ram-raided the storefront, and stormed inside.”

Mind racing, the adrenaline fading from the drive as well as the bitter cold making my brain slow, all I can think to sign is, “Where’s Dmitri?”

Squeezing my shoulder, Luka asks Iosif, “Why didn’t Dmitri call?”

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