Page 16 of Scarlet Promise
After setting it back carefully, I pull my Kimber 2K11 pistol and check it before making my way to the door.
No voices, but someone’s here. I feel them in the air. I want it to be Alina. It feels like her, that sweet tension, but I refuse to let myself go there in case a nasty surprise awaits.
Outside, the shootout continues. I know it’s a matter of time before it ends, before someone decides to duck inside for cover. If Demyan lets them. But there are all sorts of variables in a gunfight, and I’m not waiting for them.
Silently, I pass a room in the short, narrow hall. The room is empty, with nothing more than fishing shit inside and other bits and pieces.
I move down and into the living room and kitchen. A loaf of bread lies on the counter with the muzzle of a gun poking out of it. On the coffee table sits a bottle of vodka, lid off.
But there’s no one here.
Up ahead is a shut door. I silently cross the room, speeding past the opened front door. I listen. A soft sound emanates from the other side of the door and catches at my heart.
“Please don’t be locked,” I say under my breath.
I turn the handle.
For a moment, the world stops.
Alina.
Bruised, battered, her eyes locked on me.
They go from hopeless to bright gold, rimmed with emotions just for me.
I rush to her.
Mymalyshkais tied tight to the chair by her ankles and wrists. I untie her as quickly as I can, trying not to shake. Relief and love flood me, but I push it all down. I don’t have time for it.
“Thank fuck, Alina.” I want to hold her, kiss her, kill every fuck who touched her and hurt her.
“Ilya, are you real? Albert? My head…”
“Malyshka, he’s fine. And I’m real. Can you walk?”
She nods very carefully.
Outside, the guns continue blazing. We’re not out of the woods yet.
I race back to the living room then to the kitchen. My gaze catches on the pantry door. I think it’s a pantry. I didn’t see it coming in, but I don’t have time to bother with it. If someone’s hiding, I’ll shoot them dead if they show their face.
I grab the gun from the bread and check that it’s loaded. It’s an easy enough pistol, so I rush back to Alina in the bedroom and put it in her hands.
“You know how to shoot.”
“You know I do,” she says, her voice wobbly, thick.
“This one is easy. Point and pull the trigger. Stay down and shoot anyone other than me or Demyan if they come in. Okay?”
“Yes, Ilya… Alb?—”
“He’s good.”
A tear rolls down her cheek, and I brush it away.
“I will always protect you,malyshka.”
With that, I creep toward the front door. More men than I originally counted lurk outside. Three hide near the cabin behind bushes, and they’re doing a good fucking job of trying to pick off Demyan and his men.
