Wicked Mafia Prince (A Dangerous Royals Romance, #2)(19)

Tanechka.

She doesn’t look at me, but I know it’s her as sure as I know the sun in the sky. Tears come so hard, they blind me.

“Tanechka,” I whisper, pressed back against the door. If she recognizes my voice, she doesn’t show it. I’m shaking, resisting the impulse to fall to her, cover her body with mine.

I want to rip out my bloody heart and lay it at her feet, destroy it in front of her as she watches.

She focuses on the small icon, a replica of the many you find in Orthodox churches back home. I address her in Russian. “Eto ya,” I say. “It’s me.”

She remains mesmerized by the small portrait. She hears all. She waits. She assesses. So Tanechka.

But Tanechka wouldn’t want me to be stupid, sloppy. I slide behind her, allowing the camera to catch just my cap before I press a piece of tape over it. Framing this bearded guard.

Still she prays. I would expect nothing less. I kneel beside her and gaze upon the side of her face, trembling with joy and grief. It’s her.

“Moya Tanechka.”

She turns to me finally. I was prepared for rage, fear, hatred. But the feeling of her regarding me as a stranger, this is a kind of hell I could never prepare for.

Like being shut out from the sun.

“You’re alive.”

She makes no expression.

I stare, falling into her pale freckles, the royal blue of her eyes. Just the line of her lashes makes me feel indescribable joy—korotkiye resnitzy—“stubby lashes” she used to call them. She would coat her stubby lashes in black makeup. I study the way her smooth, creamy skin sweeps boldly out to her broad cheekbones.

She turns away. My heart pounds as she moves her slim fingers across the knots of the prayer rope, lips moving, whispering the prayer. The blunt white scar on her jaw, like an old friend. I remember the fight. One inch lower and it would have been her jugular.

I lay a hand on her arm, address her in Russian. “I’m here to get you out.”

“You know me?”

“Yes. I’m getting you out. We’ll talk later.”

“Are you getting the others out?”

“Soon.”

“Not now?”

“Later.”

“No thank you, then. I’ll stay until they’re all safe. I’ll be last.” She jerks out of my grip and resumes praying.

My heart pounds. We’re running out of time. “We’ll rescue the others—soon.”

“I’ll go with you after that.”

Tanechka. So stubborn.

I stand over her. “Forgive me.” I kneel and take her neck, choking her out. She doesn’t fight me—instead she reaches up to the icon on the small stand; she slumps before she can grab it. I hoist her over my shoulder and then pause. I sweep up the little icon along with her rope and get out. I don’t prefer to take these stupid things, but it’s what the Santa beard guard would do.

She truly doesn’t have her memory—the old Tanechka would’ve had me flat on my back if I’d tried something like that. I hold her tightly, the weight of her in my arms like coming home. I rush her down the hall and toward the exit. It’s not too easy with the fat suit on, but my Tanechka will never be heavy to me. Never too much to carry.

Nikki is already there with her guard. The girl is good. She holds up a finger when she sees me—one minute until we get company.

The Santa guard’s eyes widen when he sees that I have his nun.

“You’re coming with us. Shut up and obey or I kill you,” I say.

If Nikki doesn’t kill him first.

We head out the back, down a stoop littered with cigarette butts to a patch of scrubby grass. Valhalla is nondescript from the outside, like a small apartment building. Tiny windows set into dirty, pale brick. We run up the alley past more such apartment complexes. We are definitely still in the city.

I clutch Tanechka to me like she’s my own life. Our van screams up, and the back doors open. Aleksio hops out. “What the f*ck, Viktor!”

I throw him the Santa guard’s keys. “Somebody needs to drive the black 2013 Volvo out of here now.” I tell where it is.

Yuri comes around, eyes wide. “What did you do to Tanechka?” he asks in Russian.

“Nothing.” Gently as I can, I settle the unconscious Tanechka into the back. I don’t want to leave her, but we’re running out of time. “You ride in back with her, Nikki. She knows you. Be nice or we’ll throw you right back.” I shut the door.

Mischa comes around. He has control of the guard.

“She’s alive!” Yuri says.

I can barely contain my heart. “Hit me, Aleksio.”

“The f*ck?” Aleksio’s pissed.

“I had to do it, brat. I’ll go back and sell it. The mission is fine. I’ll go back, manage the perceptions; you’ll see.”

Yuri comes up and hits me in the jaw. I clip my lips into my teeth so that it will be good and bloody—we’ve done this many times.

I grin. “Now get them safe.” I rush around through the alley, making it back to Valhalla’s backyard just as two guards are running out.

I act the part of the dazed, angry customer, demanding my money back. “Look what she did!” I say, gesturing at my jaw. “She hit me!”