Page 19 of My Russian Protector

Alex and I are moved into an interview room to wait, and I watch as he paces a path across the room. One of the officers is kind enough to bring us coffee and a box of pastries, and he looks on for a moment as Alex’s expression grows angrier and his body tenses. When the officer leaves, I plead with him. “Alex, come sit down. Everything’s going to be fine. They’ll arrest him and we’ll go back home. It’ll be over.”

He looks at me as though my words have drawn him out of a dark and scary place inside his head. He walks to the table, sits down, and takes both of my hands in his.

“Anna, I don’t feel right about this. I don’t pass my obligations off to others. I take care of things myself. The only reason we’re here is because I made you a promise, but I’m not sure keeping that promise is in my best interest. These men have to follow the rules. Your father doesn’t. That gives him an advantage over them.”

“You said so yourself that my father was a low-life gambler and wasn’t very smart. I’m sure that the constable and his men will do fine against him,” I reply.

“No, I miscalculated. You saw the way he’s living. He’s smart. Has to be. As the Mayor, he must have a police scanner in the house. He’s probably already gone,” he explains.

“So? He’ll go into hiding again and we’ll forget that he exists. Right?”

“As long as you’re alive, you’ll be a threat to him. I have to get out of here. I have to do something.” He kisses me and a painful sorrow fills my chest. It feels like a kiss goodbye.

“You’re mine and it’s my job to keep you safe. I’m going to slip out, and I need you to stay here,” he says, but as words leave his lips, the room shakes. A series of loud crashes come from the other side of the door and Alex lifts me to my feet. He scans the room but there’s no way out except for the door we enter through.

“Get under the table and stay there. I’m going to the car to get my weapons,” he tells me.

“What’s happening?” I cry.

“He’s here,” Alex says and a menacing grin crosses his lips. “He knows the station is practically empty and that you’re here. It’s the perfect time to strike. I’m going to lock the door and turn off the lights. Stay down.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you! Stay here with me,” I beg him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be back and you’ll be safe,” he replies.

11

THE FINAL FACE-OFF

ALEX

The station is filled with smoke and dusty debris that follow an explosion. My ears are assaulted by the sound of policemen calling out to each other and scattered gunshots. I keep low and crawl down the hall until the room expands and I find myself behind the reception desk. The blasts from high-powered rifles illuminate the front door. I can make out three men in the doorway. Soon, they’ll work their way inside.

My best chance is to somehow get behind them, so I navigate to the side of the building. I saw a door there when the Constable escorted us to his office. I suspect it leads to the garage where the patrol cars are stored.

The door opens and I pass through to the empty garage. I was right. The Constable took all of his forces to Pavlova’s mansion, leaving just the administrative staff in the station. It seems I wasn’t the only one who underestimated Pavlova.

I cross the cold, concrete floor and go out the back door. I stay close to the edge of the parking lot and silently work my way to my parked car. I crouch down behind it and pop the trunk where I’ve stashed both my rifle and my handgun in case the police decide to search the car.

I peer through the back window and see that the men who were blasting their way into the precinct have made it inside. Each second that passes brings them closer to Anna, and I can’t let them find her. I leap to my feet and run across the gravel, heading for the front door. I slow on approach and peek into the open door.

One of the gunmen has been taken down by one of the officers. There are two others with their backs to me. I prepare my rifle and step inside. I open fire and a spray of bullets hits both men in their backs and legs. They crumble to the ground.

“Drop your weapon,” one of the officers shouts.

“I’m friendly,” I reply. “I was in the interrogation room.”

The officer pokes his head up from behind the reception desk and looks at me. His face is sweaty, and blood is dripping from his forehead. He recognizes me and I see the relief on his face. He steps out from behind the desk and walks toward me.

“There are two more. They went down the hall,” he tells me.

“Is the Mayor here?” I ask him.

He seems surprised by my question and says, “Yes, how did you know?”

“They’re going to try to kill my girl. We need to get to her,” I reply and step over the bodies of the gunmen. The officer follows behind me with his pistol drawn.

The interview room door is open and light filters out into the hall. They’ve found Anna.

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