Page 54 of Waiting for Him
Trying to formulate a plan, Jake prayed Boomer wasn’t going to lose his woman again . . . and permanently this time.
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Boomer couldn’t believe what Murray had just told them over their headsets . . . ah, fuck, yes, he could. They’d all fallen for the deceptive ploy, and it’d worked. While he knew they would’ve still rescued his parents, in hindsight, they should’ve put Kat and the others into the compound’s panic room until they had more information about what was happening. But it was too late for that. Now, Kat was in the hands of men who had no trouble killing anyone who got in their way, and once they had their money, she was expendable. Damn it, he couldn’t lose her again—he wouldn’t survive the loss this time.
The helicopter’s rotors were thumping in time to his pounding heart rate. The only chatter at the moment was from the pilot and co-pilot. The team and Carter were waiting for updates from Murray about what was going on. The pilots were pushing the bird as fast as they could, but Boomer was afraid they wouldn’t get there in time to save Kat. Even at full throttle, it would still take them about twenty minutes from Sarasota to Tampa. He’d have to trust Jake and Tanner to do what they could until their backup arrived. It was just frustrating to sit and wait for info without being able to do anything.
From what Murray had said, one of the tangos was dead next to the compound’s gate. That meant there were only two more they were aware of. With Egghead’s medical alert tracking bracelet, they would at least know where Kat was. The FBI’s SWAT team was now in direct contact with Jake and rerouting to intercept the getaway vehicle. There were too many variables, and Boomer didn’t like the odds.
Brody shifted in his seat. “You know, Ian, this is why we need our own fucking bird.”
Nodding, their boss crossed his arms. “Not that it helps us now, but it’s being delivered in two weeks. We’re storing it at the airport with the jet until the helipad is built. By the way, that starts next week, along with the obstacle course Devil Dog planned out.”
As his teammates and Carter added more mindless chatter through the chopper’s headsets, the ground below them came and went rapidly. Boomer just hoped it was fast enough.
He glanced at his dive watch—seven minutes down, about thirteen minutes to go. “Fuck.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shivering, Kat tried to sit as far away from the man she now recognized as Viktor “The Bull” Dryagin, Volkov’s right-hand man and self-appointed heir to the dead man’s criminal empire. Ian had shown her pictures of the man who Benny and Jake had confirmed was the leader of the group who’d tried to kidnap her from the motel in Norfolk.
Dryagin and Pig-face hadn’t spoken to her since they’d fled the compound about ten minutes ago. They only conversed with each other in Russian, which only enhanced her fear and anxiety.
What were they planning on doing to her to get the money? She’d gladly give it to them if she could only be certain she would still be alive once they had it in their greedy little hands. The only thing she wanted was the chance to have the life she craved . . . the life she deserved with Benny.
She didn’t even know if Rick and Eileen were alive and doubted the Russians would tell her. All she could do was pray Jake and Tanner were tracking her and creating a rescue plan. Benny had assured her that was what his team specialized in, and she trusted them to get her out of this damn mess.
“Blyat!”
Kat didn’t know what Pig-face had said, but by how he'd spat it out, she guessed it was a curse word. A split second later, he slammed on the brakes, sending her flying forward, her head smashing against the headrest of the seat in front of her. Black spots and white stars filled her vision as myriad sounds assaulted her ears. Loud screeching, yelling, whaps, pops, and the rush of air escaping surrounded her. It took her a moment to realize both her head and the car were spinning as Pig-face tried to control it on four shredded tires. The bare rims ground against the asphalt as the vehicle rapidly slowed. What the hell was happening?
Somehow, he managed to keep them from flipping over, and the vehicle finally came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the highway. Before Kat could think about escaping, Dryagin snatched her by the hair and hauled her to his side, his weapon pressed against her temple. Tears filled her eyes as she tried to ease the pressure on her scalp. Outside the SUV, smoke from the blown tires began to settle, and all was quiet except the three occupants’ heavy breathing and Pig-face’s cursing in both languages.
“Yobaniyi ment! Fucking cops blew tires. Vhat now?”
Hope flared in Kat’s chest as she heard sirens approaching. She just prayed these two men didn’t do anything stupid that would get them all killed. The sirens switched off one by one as several vehicles came to a screeching halt, surrounding them at a distance.
Kat tried to glimpse what was going on, but the only direction Dryagin’s grasp allowed her to see was through the window next to him. She realized they were turned sideways on the highway, facing the southbound lanes. Further past the line of idling patrol cars with their flashing lights and unmarked SUVs, she saw the signs of traffic beginning to build beyond the roadblock which had been quickly put in place. Police officers—some in uniform, others dressed in all black—used their vehicles as cover and pointed handguns, shotguns, and rifles at the getaway vehicle. If Kat thought she was scared earlier, she was now beyond terrified.
Please, God, don’t let them decide to go down in a hail of bullets.
Several minutes passed before two men behind one of the police cars caught Kat’s attention, and she gasped when she focused on Jake. His arms gesturing wildly, Boomer’s teammate argued with a red-faced man in an ill-fitting suit. It was apparent the man wanted Jake away from the scene, but he wouldn’t budge.
A sudden voice over a loudspeaker interrupted the Russians’ rapid conversation in their native language. “Throw out your weapons and come out with your hands in the air.”
Pig-face rolled his window down halfway and yelled, “Fuck you.”
Okay, Kat thought, that command didn’t go over well. Now what?
“Please let me go. We’re surrounded. If you cooperate, I’m sure the judge will go easier on you.” Actually, she wasn’t sure of it at all, but it sounded good, right?
“Shut up.” Dryagin’s head swiveled as he eyed what was going on around them. “Ruslan, demand new car or ve kill girl.”
Well, shit, that didn’t sound comforting, but at least the bastard had let go of his grip on her hair, and she could sit up a little better. Before she could move away from him, the big man grabbed her upper arm, pulled her across his lap, and switched their positions in the backseat, putting her between him and most of the police officers. He held her close, still pointing the deadly end of his pistol at her head.
She listened as Ruslan, aka Pig-face, shouted their demand out the window, and the hostage negotiator on the megaphone responded. Kat got the feeling she was in for a very long and stressful afternoon.
* * *
