Page 37 of Scarlet Secrets

The bastards in here don’t have time and we hit them hard with bullets until none stand. My men take care of the others that pour out of crevices like rats. The air’s alive with shouts and cries and flying bullets and the rat-a-tat-tat of a semiautomatic.

“Demyan!”

I spin at Ilya’s warning and plant a bullet between the eyes of a snake who’d been hiding. When we’re done, no one stirs.

And I pull my knife, crouching over my last kill. I do a rudimentary pat down, but there’s not even a wallet or cash on him. No burner, either. This is a preplanned holding place. I’d bet my right nut on it.

Taking the dead man’s hand, I flick open the knife and cut off his finger, wrapping it in a handkerchief I have, and then shove it in my pocket.

None of these bodies will have ID, so I should be able to get a print. Guys like these always have rap sheets. And thenI’ll be able to confirm or rule out if Sergio conducted the attack.

I stand and kick the guy, then look around. My men are scouring the place, but I note Ilya’s doing what I’m doing. Standing, thinking.

There’s nothing here, I figure, as one of my men peers into a barrel, he’s pried open. Someone else has opened another. They’re old barrels but that means nothing. They’re perfect storage for drugs, guns, girls.

Bodies.

But I assume they’re empty as no one’s raised an alarm. Suddenly, Ilya raises a hand and everyone falls silent.

I hear it too. A thump, so soft, coming from what looks like just a wall. We look at each other and I nod. Together we approach, stepping carefully, silently, until we reach the wall.

Part of it’s in shadows, and I see it. A handle. I point and together we approach. He sends a message and behind us, in heavily accented English, Stefan calls out, “Nothing more here. Let’s go.”

Most of the men are out, only three others remain, one a sharpshooter. And they wait, weapons aimed.

The door might be unlocked or locked, but my money’s on the latter. On a silent count to three, I slam into the door, kicking it open.

A bullet whizzes by as I duck and Alina gives a muffled scream.

It’s all I need. I turn, aiming my gun, and I pull the trigger as the fucker aims again. I hit him point-blank between the eyes and he hits the fucking ground.

I step over the dead asshole to Alina, who’s in the corner, dress torn and grubby, her mouth swollen, hands tied. Shaking, I drop to her and ease the tape over her mouth off, and I check her over, as gently as I can, cataloguing every rip in her gown, each piece of exposed skin, the grubby handprint onher left breast—and if I’ve shot the ass who did that I want to cut off his dick and shove it down his throat or resurrect him and do that to him while he lives and then kill the fuck.

Her eyes are swollen, the summer blue stormy, and tear tracks cut through dirt and makeup on her face. She’s got a black eye, and a bruised lip, dried blood on the inside of the corner of her lower one where the tape didn’t touch.

Her right cheek is black and purple and swollen.

But apart from the handprint, she doesn’t seem disheveled from sexual violation. I’ve seen what these kinds of animals do and they never leave the woman with dignity. And she clings to me, a good sign, too.

There’s no intrinsic distrust of men, even if I am her brother.

“Alina, are you okay? Did they?—”

“No.” Her voice wobbles and breaks, and she grabs my lapels. “I’m… I’m okay. They didn’t…”

She stops.

“Can you stand?” I untie her ankles as she nods and I help her up. They didn’t rape her or beat her, she wanted to say.

Someone hit her a couple of times, but she was also manhandled into a car’s trunk, so some injuries might be from that.

I’m still murdering the fucker who orchestrated this.

“Is she—” Ilya stops, takes in her bruised, tear-stained face. “I should have made some of them suffer before I sent them to hell.”

We start to lead her out, and she stumbles at the door, grabbing at me. “Max! M-max, is he okay?”

My heart shatters for her and I shake my head as I sweep her up in my arms, holding her close. Ilya looks how I feel as her slender body shakes and she sobs into my neck and shirt.

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