“Fuck! You idiots. How did you mess this up? I should have known the tip off from that kuchka was all bullshit. No way Radaeva’s wife would just be wandering around so far from home without security. Not if he cared at all.”
“So what the hell do we do now?”
“I can think of some fun things to do with her.”
I make out a slap and a curse. That one gets a whack around the ear on the regular, by the sound of it.
“We don’t do anything with her,” says the steely voice of the boss. “And I mean nothing. You do not touch her.”
Pretty sure that’s directed at the guy with the wandering hands.
“Aww boss,” he whines in response.
“No.” The word is short and sharp. “We leave her here. Dump her phone. She dies of natural causes. We’ll come back in a month's time and dump her in the woods. When her body’s found, it’ll look like she lost her phone and couldn’t find her way back to civilization… if the gators don’t get her first.” There’s a chorus of cruel laughter. “Either way, there’ll be nothing at all to tie her to us, and nothing that screams foul play.”
I sob harder, giving them the illusion of a pathetic, helpless woman terrified for her life. “No please, don’t leave me here. You can’t do this!”
I pile on the hysterics, determined they don’t see me as any kind of threat. Because I’m no dumb blonde, though the stereotype is always the same. But the moment they leave me here, I have absolutely no doubt I can save myself.
Chapter 17
NIKO
“Niko, I’ve hit paydirt!”
Darian’s voice wakes me from the doze I’ve fallen into through lack of sleep, and I snap awake with minor disorientation. I blink rapidly, forcing my eyes to focus on my brother’s face as he leans over me.
"What is it?" I demand, sitting up straight and feeling a surge of adrenaline course through my veins.
"I finally picked up a trace on Lyah's phone. It's pinging off a tower in Miami."
My heart leaps into my throat. After days of fruitless searching, this could be the break we need. I spring to my feet, already reaching for my jacket.
"Miami? What the fuck is she doing there? Where exactly? Are you sure it’s her?" I ask, my mind racing with too many questions all at once. I push them aside, focusing on the task at hand.
I follow Darian to his office where he taps furiously at his keyboard, pulling up a map on the large screen in front of us. "It's in the everglades, along the Tamiami Trail on US 41,” he explains. “The signal's weak, but it's definitely her phone. Whether it’s her…"
He trails off, but I know what he’s trying to say without the words, so I nod sharply, already formulating a plan. "Get the jet ready. We're wheels up in thirty minutes."
As Darian rushes to make the arrangements, I allow myself a moment of hope.
Lyah, my love, I'm coming for you. Hold on just a little longer.
In those seconds, I realize I absolutely mean it. I’ve forced up a wall of indifference towards my wife in the three years we’ve been married, but the foundations of that wall have been eroded with the events of the past week. However, there’s no time to think about it now, and what it all might mean.
Instead, I sprint to my room, hastily throwing essentials into a duffel bag. Weapons, cash, a change of clothes. My mind races through scenarios, and I don’t like where any of them lead. Why Miami? Is she hurt? Is she lost? Did someone take her? The questions gnaw at me, fueling my determination.
"Boss, we're ready," Darian calls from the hallway.
I zip the bag closed and sling it over my shoulder. "Let's move."
The drive to the airstrip is a blur. I bark orders into my phone, mobilizing my Miami contacts; a Bratva subsidiary which is mostly autonomous. Technically I’m their superior, although I rarely interfere.
Today, they’ll come in useful, though, because by the time we touch down, I want eyes on every inch of that godforsaken swamp, and they’ll be able to make that happen.
As the jet climbs into the night sky, I stare out the window, willing it to fly faster. The vast darkness below mirrors the void in my chest where Lyah should be. I clench my fists, rage simmering just beneath the surface.
"If someone took her…” I growl, more to myself than to Darian. “They'll wish they were never born."
