Page 76 of Call Sign: King
The guards shared a quick glance as if they were deciding who would answer the question.
“Things have been better since Alexi took over. I’ve got a family now… something I never would have been comfortable doing under the brothers. I’m actually proud of the work the family is doing these days and it’s nice not having to worry that I’m gonna get my throat slit just because one of the Volkov brothers decided to pick a fight with a rival family over some trivial bullshit.”
The man’s words resonated with Ryder. His gut trusted he was telling the truth, and since he was literally betting his and Khloe’s life on his gut today, that meant a lot.
The driver piped up to add, “Honestly, I’m just trying to get a chance to win back some of the money you stole from me over the years.”
Ryder hadn’t noticed he’d been joined by Torch until the team leader chuckled next to him.
“You speak Russian?” the driver asked.
“I do. And for the record, he beats me at poker too,” he answered, speaking in Russian.
“Enough small talk. We need to get the fuck out of here,” Ryder said impatiently, ready to leave.
“Not yet,” Alexi objected. “I can’t take you in there looking like that.”
“And just how did you want me to look?” Ryder asked, frustrated at any delay.
“Beaten. Broken. Like you put up a fight.”
Okay, he wasn’t wrong which Ryder took as a sign that maybe Ice had been right. Maybe he was moving too fast and not thinking through all of the minute details.
“So let’s get on with it. You all gonna take turns using me as a punching bag?”
Torch answered for them. “I have a better idea.”
Pulling his utility knife from his belt, he sliced a small cut in his forearm before Ryder could stop him.
“Hold still,” Torch cautioned. “We can make it look like you’ve lost some blood,” he said smearing blood on Ryder’s bare arms and neck while also putting some on the black shirt he wore over the Kevlar vest he’d be wearing into the compound.
“Don’t bother with my shirt. It doesn’t show well anyway,” Ryder instructed.
“That’s all good,” Alexi said. “But it’s not enough.”
Ryder turned to ask Torch to do the honors when a right hook clocked his left cheek, dangerously close to his eye.
Bright white lights filled Ryder’s vision as the explosion of pain spread throughout his face.
“Christ, you could have given me a warning…” Ryder complained, cupping his throbbing cheek.
“That felt surprisingly good,” Torch said, much too cheerfully, still shaking his hand out from the pain of impact.
Ryder heard several of his men rushing forward, no doubt confused as why Torch had turned on their leader.
“It’s okay!” he called out in English. “Stand down, everyone.” Turning toward Torch he added, “Serve you right if they shot your ass for getting in that cheap shot.”
“Just trying to help.” Torch grinned, helping to soothe Ryder’s anxiety. “Looks like your eye is starting to puff up nicely. With any luck it will be bruising by the time we get to Purgatory.”
His phone vibrating in his pocket distracted Ryder. Everyone he needed to communicate with was already engaged. Tempted to ignore it, he pulled the phone out and glanced down at the screen. It took a few seconds to even understand exactly what he was looking at as the string of horrifying photos pelted his phone, one after the other. They did more damage to him than Torch’s fist had minutes before.
He heard the wounded shout and realized he was making the pitiful sound just as his knees crashed to the asphalt. Seeing photos of Khloe bloodied and bruised — restrained with men’s hands touching her — was bad enough, but the fucker had branded her with the Volkov family crest. He’d literally burned his mark into her flesh like she was a piece of livestock.
Ryder clutched his chest. His pulse was racing so fast that he felt woozy. The voices of people gathering around him sounded far away — like he was under water and sinking fast.
He’d failed her. The fucker had hurt her. Marked her.
Doc’s voice cut through his spiral of despair just as he felt her arms hugging him from behind.
