Page 38 of Demetri
"Sir, you can't –" an officer calls out to me as I rush past him. Ignoring his warning, I storm toward the scene. Tire marks scar the road and shards of broken glass crunch beneath my feet the closer I get. As soon as I round the firetruck, I take in the firefighters unrolling water hoses to put out the blaze. With no thought to my safety, I run toward the fire.
"Stop!" Someone grabs me by the forearm and pulls me backward.
"If you value your life, you'll remove your hand," I warn the young man whose grip loosens. "What the fuck are you thinking?" the firefighter questions.
"My woman was in there." I point toward the hot blaze as water dousing the flames.
His expression changes. "Sir, we only pulled one body from the wreckage. Paramedics are tending to him now."
Sasha.
"Sir — sir." The firefighter gains my attention. "Are you certain there were two occupants in this vehicle?"
"Yes. My employee Sasha Fedorov and Glory Keller," I confirm. The firefighter waves over an officer standing a few yards away then relays the information to him. The officer immediately acts; calling for a broader search radius looking for a possible second accident victim. The use of his word victim causes waves of emotions to hit me.
Looking beyond the flashing lights, I spot paramedics tending to someone laid out on the pavement. Pushing past the small crowd forming on the roadside, I take in the battered and bloodied form of, Sasha. I rush to his side. "Sasha," I take him in.
One of the paramedics looks up. "Are you family?"
"Yes." Victor yells from behind me, and I look over my shoulder. "He is my brother." Victor's voice rises above the noise surrounding us. I look back at Sasha laying on the ground. He looks bad. My stomach turns. I need answers, and the only person who can give them to me seems to be knocking on death's door.
"Lost his pulse." The EMT standing on the other side of the gurney yells sending him and his partner into lifesaving mode. Victor drops to his knees, taking his brother's hand in his.
"Fight, Sasha," he tells his brother. "Fight."
"How far out is medevac?" The paramedic questions as he begins chest compressions and the EMT bags, Sasha, giving him breaths of air.
He pauses and looks down at his watch. "Five minutes." He then addresses Victor. "Sir, please step back." Victor reluctantly releases his brother. He schools his emotions as they try to save Sasha. "We've got him back. Get him on the stretcher." The paramedics announce as the helicopter touches down in the middle of the highway several yards away. As they secure Sasha to the gurney, one medic turns facing Victor and me.
"They have room for one more," he yells over the noise, and Victor turns to me, waiting.
"Go," I tell him.
Once Victor turns his back, following the medics, I process what I do know as I take in the scene around me. The distant rumble of motorcycles draws my attention, and I head toward Jake and his men, who have been stopped by the police.
"Glory?" Jake asks, sitting on the back of his bike.
"She's not here," I speak loud enough for all of them to hear. Jake's eyes follow the helicopter as it lifts in the air. "Sasha was the only victim on the scene. Victor is with him," I clarify.
Looking over his shoulder, Jake signals to his brothers sitting on their bikes behind him. "Search the roads for any possible leads that would give us direction to where Glory could be." Following orders, they make their way down the shoulder of the road, pass the ambulance and firetruck.
Dread causes my stomach muscles to harden, but I steel myself, masking my emotions. Glory is nowhere to be found, which can only mean one thing.
She was taken.
18
Glory
I'm sitting in the back of the SUV I was tossed into moments ago; with the man who I shot in the leg, staring daggers at me. I don't let his murderous glare intimidate me and give him afuck youlook of my own. The man is breathing heavily and sweating like a pig; clearly in pain. I get a sense of satisfaction, knowing I caused his current state of discomfort. I only wish I'd been able to aim higher. Him not breathing would have been a better outcome. "You're going to pay for what you did you fucking bitch," the man sneers in a thick accent when I refuse to cower to the threat he's throwing my way.
I smirk. "It's too bad I missed my mark. But that's okay because when Demetri comes for me, he won't. He's going to kill every one of you."
The second those words leave my mouth, the asshole loses the pissy expression he was sporting and replaces it with a different one — fear. He visibly swallows when he speaks again. Only his question is not directed toward me; it's now on the man driving. "What is she talking about? I wasn't told this was about Volkov."
The next thing I know, all three men begin talking back and forth in Russian. It doesn't take long for the discussion to turn heated. The dickhead in the front passenger seat had no idea he was coming after Demetri. The guy then points to me. "You are his? You belong to Volkov?"
"Yes." My reply causes the man's eyes to widen. Then without warning the guy driving pulls his gun, aims it at the man in the passenger seat beside him and pulls the trigger: blood and shattered glass sprays all over the front passenger side of the vehicle. I scream as sheer panic washes over me. The SUV pulls over to the side of the road, and the man sitting on the backseat beside me jumps out. He strides up the front of the truck, opens the door, and drags the dead guy out; his body lands on the paved road with a thud. With my flight mode kicking in, I take advantage of the open door. Even though my hands are tied behind my back, I manage to slide across the seat rather quickly. Only I am not fast enough. Just as one foot touches the ground, the goon who was disposing of the dead man blocks my exit.
