Bloodlines: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (The Snake Eyes Series Book 4) (21 page)

“I
am
going to shoot somebody,” Gio says, flicking the hammer back on his gun.

He points it downward and I scream as he pulls the trigger.

Lucian cries out from the high chair, his little ears jarred by the harsh sound, and he keeps crying as Luka collapses in pain. Blood spills onto the floor, pouring from the new wound in his upper calf.

Gio slams his foot down, pressing hard and putting all of his weight onto Luka’s bleeding leg. “See?” he growls. “I told you.”

Luka grits his teeth, holding back his screams of pain as Gio digs into him a little harder.

Finally, Gio pushes off and steps back over to me. He extends his hand and he waits. “Shall we?”

“Sofia…”
Luka whispers from the floor.

I take one final look at him.

My Luka. My light.

He told me that he wouldn’t stop fighting for me until his last breath but I won’t let that happen today. I will endure. We found each other once before.

We’ll find each other again.

I lay my hand in Gio’s and he pulls me through the kitchen. We pass Luka by and the men in black follow us through the house. My son’s cries fade away behind me but I know that they won’t last forever. Soon, his father will hold him and he’ll stop screaming. Luka will make him laugh again. Maybe not today but someday.

We march through the woods together, Gio constantly wincing on his wounded leg. Eventually, we reach a clearing where a small cargo plane sits at the edge of the field.

The sixth assassin stands nearby in his mask, waiting for the rest of them to return and he reaches up to throw down the door as we arrive. Another quick wave to the windows signals the pilot and the engine purrs with life.

Gio pushes me up the steps and follows me onto the small plane. “Secure her down,” he says, gesturing towards one of the masked men as they pile on after us. “Sorry, Sofia. I don’t quite trust you yet…”

One of them steps forward and grabs my arm, leading me towards a bench on the wall with a tight grip. I sit down and he kneels in front of me, pulling a box out from under the seat with a white snake drawn on the top with marker. He reaches inside with a gloved hand and pulls out a pair of handcuffs.

I don’t fight him. I yield and present my wrist, closing my eyes to focus on my breathing. Air fills my lungs and I push it out through my lips.

It’s not over until we can’t do that anymore.

The metal cuff clacks into place around my wrist and the man fastens me to the bar on the wall.

“Hold onto something and keep your head down.”

I open my eyes, drawn to the whispering voice in front of me. “What?”

He stares at me through his mask and I freeze, looking back into his familiar eyes. Soft and restrained.

Fox.

I twitch my head down, pretending not to notice as he stands up and blends in with the rest of them.

Gio grins wide with victory as he turns and reaches for the parachute above the latched door.

I watch as he throws it on and I smirk. “Still afraid of heights, sweetheart?” I ask. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he walks off towards the cockpit and slams the door closed behind him.

The plane lurches as the pilot accelerates. I glance out the window and watch the fields of bleak, Russian earth whiz by as we move faster and faster towards liftoff. The wheels rise off the ground and my stomach twists. I grab the bar beside me and hold on as we ascend at a steep incline.

I turn away from the windows and look at the six men standing around inside the main cabin, each one of them holding onto a bar to keep his balance. A few of them speak but not loud enough for me to make out a single word. I search what I can of their hidden faces, finding Fox at the far end of them with his eyes pointed towards the floor.

The plane finally rights itself and Fox releases the bar. He moves slowly, slinking between the others as his hand drifts towards his belt. I grip the bar even tighter as he withdraws a switchblade and flicks it open.

Fox stops behind the man closest to me and raises the knife to his throat. With a quick jerk of his wrist, Fox slides it across his skin and blood spills down his chest. The man cries out, tumbles to his knees, and everyone instantly takes notice.

“Hey!”

The fuselage surges with sudden life, so much that I can barely keep up with it. Two men descend on Fox but he twists free of them, quickly plunging his knife into one of their chests.

I cringe back against the wall as Fox pulls the knife out and stabs it deep into the second man’s neck with fast, almost elegant, precision. They both slump to their knees and Fox spins around to meet the next attacker as he raises a pistol to his head.

Fox launches towards the gun and snatches the man’s wrist as a shot rings out. I gasp, clenching my heart as the bullet just misses his face. He turns, keeping a tight grip on the man’s wrist and forces him to point the gun at the only other man left standing. The gun fires again and I cringe, sheltering my head as the bullet clips his eye and he spins down to the floor.

The gunman throws himself backward, growling with anger, and Fox stumbles into the wall behind them. He raises the man’s wrist and slams it down to his knee several times to force him to drop the gun. Finally, it tumbles to the floor and Fox knocks him away from it.

The two face each other with tight fists, barely pausing before they both lash out at each other. They trade blows but Fox is quicker, tripping the man down to his knees so fast it makes me nauseous. Fox slides behind him, takes the man’s head in his hands, and I shield my eyes, flinching as the crack of bone invades of my ears.

“What the hell—”

I look up as Gio pops out of the cockpit with wide, angry eyes.

Fox grabs his knife and throws it at Gio, piercing his left shoulder. Gio screams and falls back into the cockpit door in shock as Fox takes wide strides in his direction. He grabs the knife handle and yanks it out, drawing another powerful scream from Gio’s throat.

“What the hell are you doing?”
he seethes, staring into Fox’s obscured eyes.

Fox wraps his fingers around Gio’s throat and pulls him up, forcing him across the fuselage to the exit. He reaches for the door handle and my jaw drops.

“Wait!”
Gio squeals with fear.

Fox glances back at me for a quick second and I nod as I wrap my arms tighter around the bar.

He shoves the door open and my ears pop from the change in pressure as the wind howls and the plane lurches in the sky.

With a firm kick, Fox jettisons Gio outside and I listen to the pleasant sound of him screaming until I can’t hear it anymore.

Fox reaches out and yanks the door closed again. He steps over the bodies scattered around the floor on his way to me. As he kneels down, he slides his mask off, revealing his pleasant face and I feel more at ease for it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, barely out of breath.

I nod, unable to speak.

He opens the box beneath the bench again to retrieve the keys to the handcuffs. I take them from him and he grabs the revolver from the dead man’s hand.

I watch from the bench as he enters the cockpit and holds the gun to the pilot’s head.

“Turn around,” he says. “Go back.”

The pilot blinks with recognition.
“Fitzpatrick?”

“Just do it.”

“We thought you were dead.”

Fox brings the hammer back with quick flick of his thumb. “I am.”

The pilot cranes back and looks out into the fuselage. “You definitely will be.”

“Land the damn plane.”

They say nothing more and a few minutes later, the Lutrova estate comes back into view from the windows but I don’t breathe any easier until the landing gear touches the grass.

Fox opens the door for me and I hop outside, happy to feel the earth beneath my toes again. I turn back and wait for him to follow me out but he disappears into the cockpit instead.

I jump as two gunshots echo from inside.

A few moments later, Fox appears again and joins me in the grass. He walks around me, taking wide strides to lead me back to the estate but I reach out to lay a hand on his arm.

“Fox,” I say, finally finding my voice again. “Thank you.”

He pauses and nods as if I never needed to say it in the first place. “You’re welcome.”

Chapter 22

Luka

I always knew that someday I would have to bury my father but I didn’t expect that day to happen so soon.

Sofia takes my hand. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that her touch was the last bit of warmth left in the entire nation of Russia — with the exception of that feeling I have whenever I hear my son laugh.

She balances Lucian on her hip with her arm hugged around him, occasionally whispering in his ear to keep him calm while the priest says his words. I reach out and I push a bit of hair out of his eyes. He looks up at me and smiles. Good. I don’t want my son to experience grief like this yet. If he’s anything like me, he’ll immerse himself in it.

I open my arms and Sofia turns to pass him along to me. Lucian doesn’t make a peep, not a single sound of discomfort or mourning for being out of his mother’s embrace. I hold him close to me, breathing in that perfect scent of him while he tugs at the lapel on my suit jacket with curiosity in his silver eyes.

A father protects his family.

I think I get that now.

I look to my mother standing between me and my brother. Each time I glance I her, she hasn’t moved at all. Her eyes sit straight ahead, dry and unblinking. Her chest barely rises with her shallow breaths. Brave and strong, even today of all days. I would expect nothing less from Nina Lutrova.

Movement draws my eyes across the cemetery and I catch Fox as he walks by again. Keeping today a private family matter was a top priority and there’s no one else I’d trust more right now than him and his sharp eyes to keep unwanted pests out of here. I take an easy breath and squeeze Sofia’s hand a little tighter.

Once the casket has settled, I turn around. Markov stands behind us with his hands in his pockets; years of war and experience keeping a cautionary hand on his pistol hidden inside.

He’s standing next to Stefan Petrovin, after all, one of the most notorious mobsters in Russia besides my father.

Stefan nods to my mother with sincerity and he takes her hands. “I am sorry for your loss, Nina.”

“And the same to you, Stefan,” she says.

He offers his hand to Yuri and my brother shows him the same respect.

The slaying of Hans Petrovin had the opposite effect than Gio intended. He wanted us to fight; to tear our country apart while he profited from the pieces but Russia stands strong.

There’s nothing like a common enemy to unite two families together.

Stefan turns to me. “We will start looking today,” he says.

I nod and shake his hand. “Thank you.”

He offers a quick smile to Lucian sitting on my arm, deepening the wrinkles around his old eyes, before turning back to his car. Markov escorts him away. I suppose one can’t be too careful anymore.

“Nina…”

I turn to Sofia to find her standing in front of my mother.

“I am sorry,” she whispers with guilty, shaking eyes. “This… If I hadn’t have—”

“Stop,” my mother says. “You didn’t do this, Sofia.”

My heart aches for both of them and I hold my son a little tighter.

“But I…” Sofia’s voice falls and she looks at me. She blames herself for this, for all of it, and nothing I’ve said so far has been able to convince her otherwise. “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve brought on your family.”

My mother shakes her head. “Sofia, I loved my husband more than life itself but he was not without his foolishness. He saw the evil that condemned Zappia women such as you and he pretended it didn’t exist. Even I did. But Luka... he never could. Not since the moment he saw first you and I see the way he looks at you now. I’ve never seen my son love so completely. Given our family’s deeds, I often worried that my sons were incapable of that.” She reaches out and takes Sofia’s hands. “No, Sofia. You haven’t brought any pain on my family. You brought us life. And with Lucian, you gave us a future. You will always have a place in my home. Remember that.”

Sofia’s lip trembles as she nods. “I will.”

My mother takes a step back, keeping her tight grip on Sofia. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

I follow behind them across the lot, limping on my wounded leg as I move. Words stand out on tombstones as we pass by them. Fathers and mothers. Sons and daughters.

Brothers and sisters.

My mother stops at the end of the line of stones. Sofia looks down and tears spill from her eyes as she reads the name.

Rosalie.

“We all deserve a place to mourn,” my mother says. “Now, she will always be close to you.”

Sofia sobs.
“Thank you.”