Page 52 of The Prizes We Win
Dante reaches across the console and grabs my arm. “Ummm, what?”
“You guys, the sun is barely up. It isn’t exactly inconspicuous to have a group of giant men dressed in black standing on this woman’s front porch at the ass-crack of dawn. Not to mention there’s no way she will open the door which means you’ll”—I point to Dante—“have to knock it down, which will only cause more attention.”
“She’s right again,” Mac says from their car. I can’t see him, but I can practically hear the grin on his face.
“Shut up,” Luca bites out.
“She can’t see through the windows of the car, so, let me get her to open the door, and then the three of you can come in. Mac, Finn, and Ronan. You guys wait here.”
“Yes, boss,” Mac, Finn, and Ronan answer in unison.
“Don’t call her boss,” Luca deadpans.
Dante slowly lets go of my arm. Reaching up, I quickly undo my ponytail before unstrapping my holster from my thigh and tucking my gun into the waistband of my pants.
As casually as possible, I round the hood of the G-Wagon before walking down her sidewalk and up her front porch. Herfront windows are cracked and, despite the early hour, I can smell the coffee brewing. She’s awake.
I guess being up early comes with the territory of owning a bakery.
I take a deep breath before pressing her doorbell. It rings throughout the house and just a moment later I hear the sounds of her unlocking the deadbolt through the front door.
She opens it slightly and looks me over. Deciding I look “safe enough” she swings it open the rest of the way. “Can I help you?”
“Sure can,” I say before using one hand to cover her mouth and push her further inside while drawing my weapon with the other and pressing it against her stomach.
Three car doors open and close behind me, followed by loud footsteps bounding up the front porch.
I stare into Katya’s wide eyes as she breathes heavily against my hand. The front door closes softly behind me. “Windows,” I instruct. My hand doesn’t move from her mouth until I hear one of them close the two front windows.
“I’m going to move my hand,” I tell her gently. “If you scream, I will shoot you. And in case you want to know how serious I am, I’ve already killed my own father today, so shooting you would be nothing in comparison.”
Her eyes line with tears but she nods.
I remove my hand but keep the gun in place. “Where did they take him?”
“Where did they take—”
I press the barrel of the gun harder against her stomach, and I feel Luca, Sebastian, and Dante crowd me, but they don’t interfere. “I suggest you don’t play games with me. The tunnel in the back of your bakery leads directly to the Novikov house. And I find it extremely hard to believe that they wouldn’t just trust anybody with that. You know more than you lead on, and we all know it. So I ask again, where did they take Enzo?”
“I—I don’t know who the hell Enzo is,” she sobs.
“You may not, but you do know where they’d take him.”
Katya’s silence tells me everything I need to know. I cock the gun. “Last chance.”
Tears stream down her cheeks and she finally relents. “They—they own an old butcher shop on the Lower East Side. Corner of Henry and Jefferson.”
“Thank you, Katya.” I give her another hollow smile.
“P-please don’t kill me,” she says through a breathy sob.
I decock my gun and put it back in the waistband of my pants. Leaning forward, so my face is all but an inch from hers, I whisper, “I’m not going to kill you. But if Ieverfind out you or your shitty bakery aided in hurting people I love, it’ll be the last thing you ever do. K?”
Katya nods eagerly. I stand upright and shoot her a wink. “Nice meeting you.”
I turn on my heels and the guys part, letting me walk past them and out the front door. The four of us leave a sobbing Katya standing in the middle of her living room.
The passenger-side window of the Urus rolls down, and Mac asks, “Got it?”
