Page 246 of Bossy Hero

He pokes his face out of the engine room, locking wide eyes on us. Ever the astute detective, he surmises, “Holy shit. You got him.”

Captain Fucking Obvious reporting for duty.

Ha. Lettie would have liked that one. I’ll tell her later.

As Patterson approaches, I savor my last moment with Lenkov at my mercy.

I give him one last shove forward. “Detective, since the chief isn’t here, you’ll have to do the honors. Cuff this piece of shit and arrest him.”

Wearing an unearned cocky smirk, Patterson faces Lenkov. “Turn around, Nikolai.”

I lean against the wall and watch the pakhan of the Russian mafia get arrested. And damn, it feels fucking good.

Exhaustion sets in as the adrenaline flees my system. My eyes flutter shut for the briefest of moments.

It’s finally over.

Mia cuts through my revelry with more news. “Boss, the rest of the team is safe. All tangos are disabled. But there’s no sign of Katia. They found the baby, though.”

An unexpected sound causes my eyes to spring open.

It isn’t the clink of locking metal handcuffs.

Nor is it the detective reciting the Miranda warning.

Nope.

It’s the snap of plastic being cut.

Patterson didn’t cuff his wrists. He freed them. And now the traitor is pointing his gun at me.

“Hands up, Lancaster,” the weasel orders, his upper lip curled in disdain.

Slowly, I comply. With each inch my arms raise, my glare intensifies tenfold. So does the hatred I have for both these men.

All those warnings from my gut weren’t because he was risking the mission with his ineptitude.

This slimy motherfucker betrayed us.

Lenkov rubs his wrists, straightening his spine to appear taller. With an arrogant grace to his movements, he removes a handkerchief from his pocket, flicks his wrist to unfold it, and dabs at the blood lining his face.

The steadiness flees from Mia’s tone as she airs my failure over the comms. “Team, double-time it to the engine room corridor. Patterson has a gun on Boss, and he’s just freed Lenkov.”

Shit.

If Mia’s watching, Maddie can see me too.

I don’t want that for her. She’s known enough fear for ten lifetimes.

Patterson wags the muzzle of his gun at me, attempting to be threatening.

Attempting.

“Weapons. Slide them over. Nice and slow.”

I have no intention of rushing this. If I drag this out long enough, my team will arrive.

With the speed of an elderly snail, I retrieve my SIG from the holster. Keeping my left arm where he can see it, I pointedly lower the gun to the deck with my right hand.

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