Over his shoulder, I see Ciara blanch.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Damir
“She didn’t let you kiss her, huh?” Ciara asks quietly as we lay on our bellies in the dunes.
Through a pair of binoculars, I scan the grassy hillocks for any sign of movement. All is silent. “Bethany will do what I tell her.”
Ciara sniffs. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. She’s having a baby, and that changes a woman. She’s not going to be thinking about just you anymore.”
My stomach lurches. Bethany’s having a baby. My baby. “Just shut your mouth and keep out of my way. We’re going up this dune. Stay behind me.”
Near the top, I pause, and signal for Ciara to do the same. I zoom in on two figures creeping through the dunes on the other side of the beach, one bearish, curly-haired man and a slender, black-haired woman. I watch Mikhail and Bethany disappearing into the scrubby dunes.
“Are we going?” Ciara asks beside me.
I realize I’ve been staring at the spot where Mikhail and Bethany disappeared for several minutes. I turn and look down at Ciara. At the splash of freckles across her nose. Her chapped lips that seem like they’ve been gnawed with worry. My brother’s child is inside this woman. Every remaining Ravnikar could die today.
“You’re keen to get killed,” I mutter, moving off.
We make our cautious way through the dunes. Smoke drifts over us, carrying the stench of burning engine oil and smoldering fiberglass, and the regret and pain I’ve held back suddenly impale me. Boris was a bloody good man, loyal and clever. I would have trusted no one else to take Bethany into Navarro’s lair in Monte Carlo. Now he’s in pieces at the bottom of the ocean. The thought should make me blaze with anger, but I feel worn out. I just want all this to be over, and for Bethany to be in my arms again.
We circle around to the north of the house until we hear voices. They seem to be coming from up ahead. We make our way up and peer over the edge. There are two men, standing out in the open, machine guns in their hands and eyes alert to danger. I can hear one of them talking on a two-way radio in French. Neither of them is Navarro.
As one, Ciara and I pull back out of earshot.
“They’re Navarro’s men. I’ll have to take them out.”
“What are you waiting for?” Ciara asks, shooting me an impatient look. “Or is killing beneath you suddenly?”
“No. I’m thinking. I’m carrying a pretty blonde dead weight, and if I expose our position and they call for help, we’ll have every one of Navarro’s men down on our heads. My brother has my woman, so I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Misha will never hurt Bethany. I’m the one taking all the risk.”
“Shut up. I’m thinking.”
Ciara moistens her lips. “Use me as bait.”
I stare at Ciara, and then have to suppress a burst of laughter.
“What? I’m serious,” she whispers.
“Misha said no using you as bait. I thought little miss goody two-shoes would do anything her daddy says.”
“Stop saying his name like that. And what makes you think I’m a goody two-shoes?”
I mimic her high-pitched voice. “Mr. Ravnikar, please, I don’t even know my parents, the stolen money had nothing to do with me.”
“It didn’t,” she says tightly.
“Family money. Family responsibility.”
“Anyone tell you that for a narcissistic psychopath you’re weirdly into family?”
I nod meaningfully at her belly. “Lucky for you I am.”
She grabs hold of my shirt and gives me a little shake. “Come on! We need to stop wasting time. Send me in there and I’ll distract them while you take them out. I’ll limp over there crying or something. No, bleeding. Punch me in the face.”