Page 93 of His to Bedevil

“I love you,” she whispers for only me to hear.

I rub my eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to trickle out. I refuse to cry. Crying means defeat, and I am not defeated unless Irma is dead, and I refuse to believe that is even a possibility. A world without Irma is a world I don’t wish to live in. She is my everything. I love her with every piece of my heart and my soul. Something I never got to tell her.

There’s a knock at the door, but I ignore it. A moment later, the door opens, and I can feel my mother’s presence. She approaches my bedside and stands there silently staring down at me. “Mijo, I’m so sorry.”

I put my hand up to stop her. I will not let her finish that sentence. I won’t have her coming in here and pretending that Irma is already dead.

“Alejandro,” she snaps, and I was taught to always respect my mother, and I always have. But right now, I don’t want to hear it. The only voice I want to hear is my wife’s. “I will not have you holed up in here acting like Irma is already gone! You will get her back. But you have to take care of yourself in the meantime,” she scolds, and places something down on the bed then strides out of the room without another word.

I don’t look down until I hear the door shut behind her. It’s a sandwich. Mechanically, I pick it up and start eating it. It could be cardboard for all I care right now. It’s fuel because she’s right. I can’t wither away in here while Irma is still out there. I need my strength to fight to get her back.

The door to my room bursts open, and my head snaps in that direction. It’s Berto and Lucas. “Alejo, we have Kazimir Kalashnik on the phone,” Berto says first.

I abruptly get to my feet, frowning. “Vladimir Kalashnik’s son?”

They both nod. “He claims to have a location on the Petrofskis,” Lucas says.

“Then give me the fucking phone,” I seethe, not understanding why I don’t already have it in my hand.

Berto hands over the phone, and I bring it to my ear. “You better not be fucking with me, boy.”

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the line. “You know, your brother said the same thing to me,” Kazimir responds with just a slight Russian accent. Kazimir is maybe only twenty years old. Still just a boy.

“No me jodas!”Don’t fuck with me!“Tell me what you know!” I roar, pacing the floor once again.

“Relax,amigo. I just need two things from you, and you have the location of your girl.”

I want to correct him that she is mywife, not mygirl. But I need answers from him more. “What do you want?” I snap.

“Well, one thing for now and the rest we can discuss once you get your girl back.”

“Mywife,” I finally concede and correct him.

“Yes, I apologize. Your wife.” He pauses. “So, if I give you the location of where she is being held, I need you to make sure that when you take them all down, that my father is one of the deceased.”

“Is that how you know where she is? Your father is working with the Petrofskis?” I halt my steps to wait for his answer.

“Da, he is. One of his men who is more loyal to me is on location.”

“And you want your father dead.”

“I do.”

“Why?” It shouldn’t matter, but I need to know why so I know what kind of man Kazimir is. If he deserves his life being spared or not.

He sighs. “Let’s just say that my father is very different from who your father was. Your father was human, mine is not.”

I’m not sure I know what the hell he is even talking about, but I don’t really care. “I assume that your second favor is to spare your life?”

He chuckles. “I hope that is implied, Alejandro. But if not, I guess then I need three things from you.”

“Fine. I will spare your life and make sure your father dies. Now, tell me where my wife is,” I demand.

Once I give the location to Berto and Lucas, I head into the closet to change into combat gear, then we’re off to the infirmary. Neither Berto nor Lucas says a damn thing about me going right into the line of fire with them. They know I’ll fucking lose it on them. My face will be the first face she sees. I will be the one carrying her out of there.

We load up all five SUVs and head for the landing strip. We all pile in to the plane, and I’m trembling once again. Kazimir informed me that Irma is being held somewhere in Serbia, and it’s going to take us all fucking night to get there.

“Alejo,” Berto says to me as I stare out the window in a daze. “There’s absolutely nothing you can do until we get there. You need some rest, or you will be no good to anyone when we do.” Fuck, I know he’s right. If I’m going to rain down punishment on every Petrofski and anyone who has ever been involved with them, then I need my strength.

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