Page 64 of Surrogate for the Bratva
“You Americans and your movies,” he grumbled and shook his head.
“Well I’m not betting my life on it.” He pulled me to a stop in front of a deep red shed with a curved arch door, unlocked the door and shoved me inside. I tossed my hands out to avoid falling before I turned to glare at him. “I hope he’s offering you retirement money.”
“Shut the fuck up!” his roar filled the small space and my heart rate increased.
I put some space between us and looked around the small shed to get my bearings. It was dark inside with just a small lamp in the far corner, but what I could see was fishing poles, rifles, shotguns and other tools and equipment. There was a handsaw near my foot and a set of wrenches on the wall to my right.
Save yourself, April. Don’t wait for a man to save you.
I had weapons at my disposal, but I was also very pregnant, which Mikhail wouldn’t hesitate to use against me. I needed time which was likely the one luxury I didn’t have on this night. “Did you kill Ivan?”
“No.” He frowned at me as if that was a ridiculous question. “Ivan is a good man. Possibly too good for this line of work. He’s not dead.” It seemed important to him that I knew that, and I sent up a small prayer of thanks that Ivan hadn’t died trying to protect me.
Now I had to protect myself. And Igor’s baby.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Igor
We arrived at the compound in record time, and I turned to Dmitry. “You’re dead tonight no matter what, Voronov. The only question is will I make it quick or will I take my time.” With those words, I rushed from the car and shot straight into the house to find April. What I found first, however, was Ivan. He was laid out in the foyer with an angry looking wound across his forehead. “Ivan,” I shouted and kicked at his foot, unsure what the fuck was going on. “Ivan, wake up goddammit.”
He stirred which meant he wasn’t dead—yet. He groaned and grunted until his eyes were open. When his gaze landed on me, his brown eyes widened in surprise and then fear. “Igor. Shit.”
What little control I possessed, snapped and I snatched him off the floor and pushed him up against the wall. “Where the fuck is she? What did you do to her?”
His brows dipped. “Not me,” he answered calmly. His body was slack and his face a mask of concern. “It wasn’t me, Igor. I would never.”
“Then where the fuck is she?”
“Mikhail,” he said quickly. “I found him heading up the stairs and asked what he was doing here. That was the last thing I remember,” his hand went to the open wound, still bleeding and the knot that had formed underneath it. “Shit.” He darted up the stairs and shouted once again. “Fuck!”
I didn’t have to ask because his face said it all when he returned moments later, a little unsteady on his feet. “You were supposed to keep her safe.”
Ivan nodded, his face full of apology. “I should have kept her safe, but I figured it out a few seconds too late.”
“Figured out what?”
“I was going through the footage from Maria’s place,” he began and I interrupted him.
“Maxim already did that. Several times.”
“I know, but when I was recovering from the stabbing, I remembered something. Maria was lowkey obsessed with this gopher family on the internet. She rolled her eyes and called the man a ‘silly American’, but she loved watching them eat carrots and radishes, at their tiny picnic table,” he laughed, lost in his memories for a moment. “Anyway she put up a few small cameras around the vegetable garden. She said it was to catch the thieving fuckers, but that wasn’t it,” his smile was sad, and he shook his head. “She was hoping to find her own little family. She was lonely.”
“Ivan,” I growled, unwilling to think of another woman I couldn’t save when there was one out there, I could still save.
“Right. Sorry. Once the cops cleared out, I went back.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Too many things felt coincidental lately and it didn’t sit right with me. I remembered the cameras. She didn’t want you or Maxim to know about them because she thought you’d find them silly and remove them.”
Typical Maria to keep her soft side hidden from those who knew her best. “And?”
“Minutes before Mikhail arrived, I figured it out.” Ivan pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times and turned it to me.
I watched as Mikhail entered the property late at night by hopping over one of the garden gates. He slipped inside easily and minutes later he left, telltale blood all over his face and hoodie. “Son of a bitch!”
“Exactly. I figured you would want to know first, and I didn’t think tonight was the night to disturb you, but suddenly Mikhail was here. I like April, she’s always nice and polite, and she felt bad about me getting stabbed. What can I do?”
