Page 113 of Thorns of Silence
“I’ll put anyone six feet under before I let them take her,” he signed clearly.
Bu-bum. Bu-bum. The beat of my heart resonated beneath a sheen of cold sweat. I knew appealing to their reason was out of the question now.
He returned to his brothers as the women started chatting among themselves.
In discomfort, my gaze darted away as the only guest in the restaurant who seemed not to be part of the Nikolaev party stood up and started toward the back of the restaurant where the emergency exit and restrooms were.
A tickle played in my awareness when I noticed the black suitcase left behind.
One moment the air was still, and the next…Boom!
We were thrown to the floor under a hail of shattered glass and debris. A lungful of air escaped me as the earth shifted under my feet. My eyes shot to the children and I reached out blindly, pulling them down onto the floor. Nikola’s body was already on top of Skye protectively. I covered both of theirs as best I could as more glass shattered over my back, slicing into my flesh.
The danger in the air was so thick I could taste it on my tongue. My daughter’s blue eyes—wide and petrified—darted around in confusion, and I moved my lips, mouthing words of reassurance while the chaos played on.
Then stillness fell and I glanced around. The Nikolaev men were all checking in on their families. Tatiana was crying. Alexei was cradling his wife and baby. Vasili hunched over, lifting me by the elbow. Dazed, I stared as he checked over Nikola and Skye.
“Thank you,” he mouthed as if I had done something when it was his son who took it upon himself to cover Skye’s body first. “Branka’s injured. Keep an eye on Skye.” I read his lips as he lifted Nikola off the floor, then huddled him to his mamma.
My gaze flicked to Branka and she was indeed hurt, a large piece of glass pierced through her shoulder. My eyes darted around the room, filled with broken glass and disorder. Blood. Smoke. And the silence in my head while opportunity whispered. The shift in the air washed over me, and I knew this was my only chance.
With everyone’s eyes on the babies and injured women, I looked at Skye, her chubby cheeks smeared with tears and filth. I ran a thumb across her cheek gently.
“Are you hurt?” She shook her head, but her grip on my dress tightened and she huddled closer to me. “You’re safe.” I pulled her closer to me.
“I’m really scared,” she signed, her little hands trembling violently. My eyes darted around the room. Isabella was tending to the wounded. Branka seemed to have been hit the worst, a gush of blood soaking through her clothes and dripping down her fingers.
I swallowed. “I can keep you safe,” I signed, my resolve hardening. “But we’ll have to go to my hotel room. Away from all this.”
“Not home?” she questioned.
“It might not be safe to go home now. You can come with me if you want.”
I waited for an answer with bated breath, knowing that her next words would change our lives forever.
One way or another.
“I want to go with you.”
FORTY-FIVE
PHOENIX
Among the commotion, I snuck Skye toward the bathrooms and took the back exit out onto the street. Fire engines approached, and I bolted the opposite way, thanking all the saints that my hotel was in that direction. I’d been in New Orleans long enough to learn the layout of the city and how to navigate it expertly.
I was sweating by the time we got to my hotel room.
Once inside, I locked the door and lowered Skye onto the bed. My arms shook from the exertion, but I hadn’t dared to put her down on the entire way here for fear that she’d slow us down.
I rushed to the bathroom and came back with a wet rag, wiping Skye’s face, hands, and knees. “It’s your blood,” she pointed out.
I glanced at myself. I was a mess, while her clothes were fairly intact, albeit a bit wrinkly. “I’m going to get cleaned up and changed. Okay?” She nodded and I reached for the remote, turning the television on and then flipping to the children’s channel.
With her attention on the television, I made my way to the bathroom, got cleaned up, and changed into clean clothes. Jeans. White T-shirt. Converse. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, amazed at how put together I appeared, none of the turmoil going on inside me showing.
Shaking myself off, I made my way back into the room, noting Skye’s attention still on the cartoons. I rushed to my suitcase, stuffing everything into it, then grabbed my backpack with the money.
I turned to the bed, finding Skye watching me with a keen eye. “What are you doing?”
