Page 98 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

The bathroom will give me privacy and a chance to fully free my right hand, but Alexei’s warning about other watchers gives me pause. Is he bluffing? Or are there really other men tracking us?

“Let’s go,” he says, opening his door and coming around to my side. He opens my door and helps me out, keeping a firm grip onmy arm. He presses his gun against my side, though it’s hidden by his jacket. “Remember, nice and easy.”

I nod, allowing him to guide me toward the gas station bathroom. My right hand remains at my side, the zip tie still attached and trailing behind me. I’ll need to break it free before we reach the bathroom.

As we walk, I scan the parking lot. There are two other cars. An old pickup truck and a minivan. A mother with two young children emerges from the minivan, which seems like an unlikely spy for Nikolai. They head into the convenience store, not giving us a second glance.

Alexei guides me toward the side of the building, where the bathrooms are located. The zip tie trailing from my wrist drags on the ground. I need to snap it free without him noticing.

“Hurry up,” mutters Alexei, glancing around nervously.

I stumble slightly, using the movement to yank my right hand forward sharply. The zip tie breaks free with a small snap, but I keep my wrist positioned as if still restrained, the broken tie dangling from my wrist.

We reach the bathroom door. Alexei looks around once more, then curses when the door is locked. He knocks, and I point to a sign that says to get the key inside. “I can wait here.”

He smirks. “I’m not a fool.” Instead of going for the key, he steps back and kicks the lock and handle, splintering the wood before gesturing for me to go in. “Five minutes,” he says, pushing open the door. “I’ll be right outside, and the door doesn’t lock now.”

I step into the small, dingy bathroom. The door closes behind me, but there’s a gap where it should meet the jamb, letting inlight. I quickly examine the bathroom. There’s one small window that’s too small to climb through. No other exits. My hands are free, but will that do me any good?

I turn on the sink, letting the water run to mask any sounds. Then I examine my reflection in the scratched metal mirror. My face is pale, hair disheveled. A small bruise is forming on my cheek where I must have hit something during the abduction.

“Think, Elena,” I whisper to myself. “Think.” Unfortunately, I really do need to pee, so that takes another minute of my allotted five minutes, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I can’t think of any way out of this bathroom and maybe not the entire situation. Defeat tastes bitter, and I nearly choke on it when he hammers on the door, signaling my time is up.

28

Damir

Ifinish the video conference with my international security team, satisfied with the new protocols we’ve established for our operations in Eastern Europe. The digital clock on my desk reads 3:47 p.m. Elena should be finishing her shift at the hospital soon. I make a mental note to call her to see if she wants to have dinner at that new Filipino place she’s been mentioning.

My private line rings, and it’s the dedicated channel reserved for Elena’s protection detail. My stomach tightens since it’s rarely used for anything but emergencies. “Antonov.” My voice is steady despite the sudden tension in my body.

“Sir, we’ve been compromised.” Fydor’s voice comes through, controlled but urgent. “Ambush at the hospital. A precision rifle fire took out our tires. Smoke grenades followed immediately, and someone attacked Valeriya. She came to a few minutes ago and stumbled out to us. She couldn’t find Elena in the hospital, and Lev, Korov, and I were temporarily blinded.”

I sit up straight, every muscle in my body going rigid. “You lost Elena?”

“It appears that way.” He sounds afraid, but it seems to be from concern for Elena, not his own skin. “By the time we recovered and searched the hospital, she was gone, sir. No trace. Valeriya needs to the see emergency doctor. Her head is still bleeding, but she refuses…”

The world narrows to a pinpoint. I don’t waste time with questions that won’t change the outcome and barely address Valeriya’s injury. “Implement Protocol Crimson. Now.”

“Already initiated, sir.”

“Report for debrief. I want every detail.” I hesitate, knowing Elena’s fondness for her primary guard. “Except Valeriya. Tell her she’s ordered to go to the ER before coming in for debrief.”

I hang up and press the emergency button under my desk. Throughout my building, silent alarms trigger my security teams into action. Within seconds, my office door opens, and Anton stands ready.

“Hospital breach. Elena’s been taken.” My voice remains level, betraying none of the rage building inside me. “Deploy three tactical teams to establish a perimeter. No one enters or leaves without our knowledge. Coordinate with Fydor’s team on the ground before he and Lev come to debrief.”

Anton nods once and disappears. I turn to the wall behind my desk and press my palm against what appears to be a normal section of paneling. A scanner reads my handprint, and the wall slides open to reveal my private security center.

Six monitors light up as I sit down at the command station. I pull up the surveillance feeds from the cameras my team installed throughout Elena’s regular routes. The hospital, the parking garage, the cafeteria she frequents, the entrance and exit to the staff lounge and changing rooms, and the OR. I scan them all but see nothing unusual until I access the parking lot footage from thirty minutes ago.

Elena exits from the ER entrance, as has become her habit. A man approaches her wearing a suit identical to my security team’s. The deception is flawless—same cut, same insignia, and same earpiece. Elena wouldn’t have known the difference.

I watch her body language change as she realizes something is wrong. Smart girl. She steps back, pulling out her phone. Maybe getting a call, or more likely, pretending to make a call. Creating distance. The fake guard moves with practiced efficiency, closing the gap between them in seconds. He pulls something from his pocket. It’s a cloth. Chloroform?

Elena struggles briefly before going limp in his arms. Definitely chloroform. He drags her to a black SUV parked nearby, places her in the back seat, and drives away a minute later. The timestamp shows this happened twenty-seven minutes ago.

My phone vibrates, and Elena’s number flashes on the screen. A text message appears: “Surrender everything, or she dies.—Nikolai”

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