“Fuck,” Sergei was the only one that spoke while everyone stood in silence. I wanted to bellow at guards for not keeping an eye on her. How in the fucking hell did she get all the way here?
“You… you-” she swallowed hard, “you killed him.” It was a statement but it sounded like an accusation. Like a damnation. This was who I was; she might as well learn that now. Her eyes darted between all my brothers and me. “Who are you guys?” she whispered, a trace of fear flashed in her eyes and it was like a stab into my heart.
“Take her back to the house,” I ordered to the guards in English. I wanted to make sure she understood what I said.
One of the guards, Misha, approached her and reached for her arm.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” her words were a bitter curse. She was afraid but she refused to whimper or cower, impressing me with her strength.
“My apologies,” Misha knew how to handle women but he was also a tough motherfucker and wouldn’t let her get away. “Please go forward and I’ll follow you. There might be more men lurking around. We want to make sure nothing happens to you.”
Those beautiful eyes of cool moss lingered on me. There was so much vulnerability in them but also amazing courage that made me want to pound my chest and shout, “Mine!.”
Instead, I kept my lips sealed and she turned around, leaving us all behind without a backward glance.
I motioned for Nikolai to take over.
“Get rid of the body,” Nikolai barked orders to the guards as I walked out and pulled out my phone dialing up Anastasia’s father.
I heard the ringing and Anastasia’s father answered, “Hello.”
“Boris kidnapped your wife and Anastasia before.” There was no sense in losing time on questions.
The man took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“When I agreed to help you,” I gritted through my teeth. “I said to send me all the information. Why did you withhold this?”
There was silence stretching on the line. I could threaten him, withdrawing my help, but I wasn’t in the habit of making empty threats.
Just when I thought he wasn’t going to answer, he started talking. “Anastasia and her mother were coming back from aDisney on Iceshow. Anastasia just turned ten and had an all girls’ party there. She begged me and her grandfather to spare her from having men following her around with guns. We caved and Boris struck. He-” It didn’t take a genius to hear Anastasia’s father was struggling with guilt. “He and his men had raped and beaten Alexandra, her mother, repeatedly in front of Anastasia. He was going to do the same to my daughter but Alexandra got her out. Anastasia was found almost frozen to death, in the middle of Stanislaus Forest. By the time we could get enough information from Anastasia to find Alexandra, she was already dead.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “How was all that not in the news?”
Sergei and Nikolai were next to me, watching me patiently. They won’t like this at all.
“Alexandra’s family is quite powerful.” His reply was simple but bitter. “I’m sure you are experienced with controlling information. After the kidnapping, it was hard for Anastasia to recover. She never complained about protection again. She struggled with memories and ended up moving to the East Coast with her grandfather.”
“Fuck.” And here I thought she was a pampered princess.
“Yes,” her father agreed. “He vowed to finish the job he started fifteen years ago. To make things worse, there has been a prison break and Boris escaped six hours ago.” He paused for a second and his next words shocked me. “Dimitry, if you can’t keep my daughter safe, nobody can.”
“I’ll be in touch.” I ended the call and gave a quick rundown to both my most trusted men.
“Holy fuck,” Sergei spat out. “How did they keep a secret like that from all the news?”
I had a hunch we were still missing some pieces of the story, but for now, we’d have to ensure we were on the move. Three of us quickly washed off the blood and got in the car.
We went back to the village to question a few of the locals. If we did the questioning, they were more inclined to reveal information. They trusted us. The rússkaya máfiya had been roaming these parts of Russia for decades and distrust was part of these people.
We were in the village outside of Ryazan, Yelatma, where a small population and distance from the main city Ryazan and Moscow allowed for less brutality of máfiya constant fighting.
Ryazan was located on the Oka River and close enough to Moscow not to be exempt from corruption and organized crime.
Satisfied there was no spotting of any other strangers, we headed back to Sergei’s place.
“With Boris out of prison,” I told both of them while speeding back to the house. “We’ll have to change our plans. We’d be sitting ducks to wait in one spot if he’s coming for her. Taking her to St. Petersburg is out of the question now. And I’m sure he’s coming for us too since we helped to put him there.”
We were back at the house in record time. It was late afternoon and the day had seemed too long already.