Page 80 of Wrath
He arched a cool eyebrow.
“Fine. I’m coming.” She whined, but she did it with a smile on her face. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Now let’s load up and go and find Misha.”
Hell, if she wasn’t in her room. If she was out there...
Flint came to stand in front of the wall of screens. “AIMI, search for Misha Minksi in the building.”
“Conducting a search now.”
He dressed swiftly. It felt like old times. The routine of putting on their suits, loading up with weapons, launching into action. All three of them visited the weapon’s room and synced various items to their suits—Mary went the old school route and strapped them onto her fighting leathers.
“Misha Minksi is not in the building.”
Wyatt’s heart sank. Fuck. Why, Misha. Why be so rash?
Love makes you do rash things. He knew that… or… a cold feeling flowed through him when a nasty thought came to him. Did she leave to help Alek, or was it all a ruse? Was Misha working with the Syndicate?
“AIMI,” he asked. “Pull up CCTV footage of the front of the building. Scan for when Misha left.”
Footage appeared on every screen, clearly showing Misha getting into a cab.
“Don’t go there, bras,” Sloan warned, watching over his shoulder. “She’s not Sara.”
She lied to you this morning in the bathroom.Sara lied all the time, and he never knew it. He thought—fuck, he didn’t know what to think. He grabbed his hair and pulled, pacing, blowing air from his mouth. As the walls began to close in, and his breath thickened in his lungs, Mary slapped him on the cheek.
“What the fuck?”
“One, you don’t curse at me. Two, Sloan is right. Misha isn’t Sara. She’s your mate. Have a little faith. Let’s think about this clearly.”
Screw Mary. You need to go. Go now. Find out for yourself.
Thirty-Seven
Yuri letMisha into The Kremlin without a problem. The big Russian simply cast his cold eyes down her body and spoke into his comms by pressing the mic at his sleeve.
“She’s here.” Yuri neglected to look at her while he spoke—presumably to Dimitri. After shooting off “da” a few times, he lowered his gaze and nodded curtly. He didn’t pat her down for weapons, didn’t even say hi.
Nolapochka. No sweetheart.
More bizarrely, he left his post at the door, closed it, and took her personally to Dimitri. When she walked through the dark maze of red hallways, already teeming with customers and staff, she barely received a glance of recognition from her fellow dancers. It made her feel as though her entire life at the club had been a lie. Sure, she only ever saw it as temporary until her debt was paid, but the acquaintances and, dare she say, friendships, she’d built were obviously just a means to an end. Did any of these people ever make lasting connections? The thought made her long for what she’d built with Wyatt. With Lilo. With Grace. And what she was inevitably throwing away simply by being there.
As they passed through the main floor, she caught the eye of Joe as he packed away a fresh rack of cleaned glasses under the bar. Anastasia danced around a pole on the stage, fluttering her eyes closed, and hooking a leg on the pole to twirl away. On the adjacent pole, her sister Dominika danced with her back to Misha. Pity, regret, and resignation reflected back at Misha from all sides. In their eyes, it was clear Misha was already a ghost. The notion should make her afraid, but the reassuring weight of the gun tucked into her waistband, hiding under the bulk of her denim jacket, allowed her to relax. Whatever happened today, she would get Alek out of there. No matter what.
Down the dark stairs, through the cold corridor of blinking lights, watched by strange masked men, hiding in alcoves. They got to the end and Yuri knocked at the closed door of Dimitri’s office.
“Da,” he said from inside.
Yuri opened the door and exchanged a few Russian words with Dimitri, then stepped aside to let her in. She took a deep breath, hardened her resolve, and walked through, barely registering Yuri closing the door behind her until the soft click of the latch sounded as loud as a hammer.
Alek lay on his side on the floor, still strapped to a chair by the wrists. Bruising discolored his swollen lip and cheek. One black, puffy eye squinted shut, the other stared at the far wall.Can’t see me…or… He didn’t move. For a moment, her lungs burned from lack of oxygen. Then his chest lifted with breath, and she forced her lungs to work.He’s alive.
Ignoring Dimitri at his desk, she went to her brother and placed a gentle hand on him. “Alek.”
Immediately, an icy blue eye snapped to her with a vulnerable accusation that seemed to say, “You shouldn’t have come,”the same time as, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Before she could be stopped, Misha pulled at the rope tying Alek’s hands to the arms of the chair. When they fell free, he rubbed his wrists gingerly. Misha helped him to a sitting position on the floor and then rounded on the man watching her with morbid fascination from beyond his big wooden desk.
