Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(43)

More shots.

More screams.

Lauren was trembling beneath him, covering her ears to block it all out, though that only helped to muffle it. There was no escaping the chaos.

Then it all stopped, at least the bullets stopped.

People were still screaming for their lives and when Mishca levered up to give her room to breathe, she immediately looked below.

He reached down to help her up, careful to keep her from cutting herself on the broken glass.

“Are you alright?” He whispered next to her ear, the chaos below them making it hard to hear.

“I’m fine.”

At least she thought so. There was minimal damage to her person besides a few nicks to her palms, and her ears were ringing from the gunshots.

Mishca pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt, pressing the button on the side. “Check-in.”

A series of replies sounded and with the last one, Mishca told them all to do damage control. Grabbing her hand, he led her out of his office.

The damage was far more serious than Lauren had realized when she was upstairs. From what she could see near her position at the bar, nearly all the bottles of alcohol were broken, the liquids dripping onto the floor. Most of the glass surfaces were shattered, coating the floor in shards of it.

She tried to stay out of the way as Mishca shouted at his men in heated Russian, the words flying way over her head. It couldn’t have just been a handgun, she knew, there were too many bullet holes in the walls for that.

Her heart was racing, the adrenaline flowing through her veins making her jittery. She saw a couple of EMTs rushing in with a stretcher, going over to a woman holding her arm, blood leaking between her fingers. She was leaning against a man of the same approximate age who looked more panicked than she did.

That was how Lauren felt. She should have been freaking out, probably hyper-ventilating in a corner, but besides the rush of emotions going through her, she didn’t feel any different.

She hated to think she was getting used to this type of violence.

The police arrived moments later, securing the scene, blocking off the exits with yellow ‘Caution’ tape. There were at least six of them, two trying to keep the people that were still outside calm, the others taking statements.

When Mishca noticed them, he looked back at Lauren, seeming to weigh a decision before coming over to her. He brushed the few strands of hair that stuck to her forehead back, shrugging out of his jacket to wrap around her arms. He must have thought she was cold.

“Is there something you want me to say?” Lauren asked carefully. Talking to law enforcement was strictly forbidden—even she knew that—and she didn’t want to do anything wrong.

“Tell them what you saw. This had nothing to do with me.”

But she didn’t believe that. When he said it, his eyes flickered to the left, a move she might have missed if she hadn’t been looking for it. That meant, he had to know who those men were, and if not, at least why they came.

She didn’t have time to question him about that, Detective Rodriguez had just walked in.

Rodriguez was one of the detectives working with Ross months ago when he’d come up as a consultant. He had been kind, with bronze skin and dark eyes, but Lauren knew that once he saw her, he would be telling Ross.

He was talking to a shorter woman with shoulder-length blonde hair when he spotted her standing next to Mishca. His eyebrows drew together as he silently said her name, immediately sidetracked.

She could see the suspicion in his eyes as he crossed the room, glass crunching beneath his dress shoes. He didn’t stop until he had a ginger hold on Lauren’s arm, guiding her away. She was willingly walking with him, but that didn’t seem to matter to the giant that was now blocking their path.

He was glaring down at Rodriguez, folding massive arms across his equally massive chest.

“It’s okay, Igor. Leave them.”

At Mishca’s command, he stepped to the side, huffing as he returned to whatever he was doing before.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rodriguez hissed, eyeing her, then Mishca and back again.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“Couples fight and they make up,” she said easily, knowing that that was the best she could do.

“That isn’t how this works. With them, there is no out.” He grabbed her wrists, turning them over. “At least you didn’t let him mark you.”

He couldn’t have known that the stars were a sore subject with her, but the mention of them had her snatching her arms back.

“Detective, can I help you?” Mishca asked appearing at her side.

His voice was low, menacing and because he was standing with his body almost angled in front of hers, his men paid close attention to what he would do next. The officers must have been warned about Mishca’s background because they wasted no time focusing their gazes on Rodriguez and Mishca, their hands hovering over their belts.

Rodriguez stood up straighter, his chin rising as he looked down his nose at Mishca. “I need to take Lauren’s statement if you don’t mind.”

“None at all. I can assist since she and I were together at the time.”

Rodriguez was grinding his teeth, but he had no choice but to comply, not wanting to make a scene. He withdrew his notepad, taking down everything Lauren volunteered, and though he hated to admit it, Mishca’s view of the shooting was better since Lauren was beneath him at the time.