Page 9 of The Russian's Kidnapped Bride
Idiot.
Forcing out a steadying breath, I reach for my jacket on the back of the chair.
“Sit tight. I’m on my way.”
***
The drive doesn’t take too long, but I spend the whole time mauling over what I’m supposed to do with a hostage witness and how I can possibly let her go without risking her running straight to the authorities.
Most witnesses end up dead one way or another, but that doesn’t mean I want to handle the situation brutally.
Leaving ourselves open for anyone to connect our name to remotely any provable crime is less than ideal, and if we don’t handle it carefully, then I’ll have an even bigger headache.
It’s dark when I reach the warehouse, and the place is mostly quiet, aside from a few guards milling about and the occasional employee coming back from an assignment.
Seeing as this building is one of our main ones, it’s big and open, full of steel catwalks and hanging fluorescent lights. Our offices are up top, while the interrogation rooms are down below. There’s usually lots of activity going on, but tonight, it feels strangely intimate.
My steps on the concrete floor echo with the purpose I walk with, and after heading downstairs, I find Nikolai standing outside one of the rooms. A few other guys linger nearby.
I lift a brow at Nikolai.
“Has the witness lost her mind yet?”
He shakes his head, and despite his usual confidence, he seems almost worried. Almost.
“Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll get there soon enough.”
That seems likely.
“That must mean you’re getting soft,” I murmur, giving him a lighthearted nudge to the side while I slide my black gloves on. “Or are you feeling some type of way about this witness?”
Nikolai scoffs. “If you think I’d let something as sentimental as that stop me from getting a job done, then you must not know me.”
I hum and clap a hand against his shoulder. “I saw you at your most vulnerable in diapers. I’d say I know you pretty well, kid.”
He huffs out a breath, feigning irritation as he swats my hand away. He has always hated being called that. “Whatever you say, old man.”
Grinning, I find myself appreciating the levity despite the tough situation. Even if Nikolai can have a stick up his ass sometimes, I can tell he doesn’t mind it either.
“Watch it. Don’t go picking fights you can’t follow through with.”
“Who said anything about not keeping up? Your age puts you at a disadvantage,” Nikolai says, not afraid to get a jab in from time to time.
I chuckle. “You may be younger than I am, but you’re not exactly twenty-one anymore, either. I’d be careful…you’ll be geriatric just like me soon enough.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” I murmur with a sigh before gesturing to the steel door in front of us. “Let’s get this over with.”
Despite the slight pull of his lips, Nikolai nods, then takes a step forward and grabs the door handle, pulling it open to let me in first.
Getting myself ready for the delicate exchange, I pull in a steadying breath, then head inside.
The silence of the interrogation room hits me first, then I glance up, peering through the fluorescent light, stopping in my tracks.
My eyes widen fractionally, and the recognition hits me so hard that I’m almost breathless.
Sitting in front of me with her hands in cuffs, brown gaze peering at me through circular, gold-rimmed glasses, is the very person I haven’t been able to shake from my mind. Dressed in more relaxed, casual clothes, she looks different from the first time I saw her, but without a doubt, it’s her.
