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“This way.” Vincent ran down the hall, pushed open a side door and ran up the steel steps. Rather than leading out into the wide-open deck with no cover, they exited into a small maintenance room. Keeping low, he rummaged through the shelves, trying to find a gun. A knife. Anything.

  Charlie picked up a heavy-duty claw hammer. Vincent settled for two screwdrivers. Crouched at the door, he peeked through the window. “No visibility from here. Stack in the way.”

  “Where would Vlasenko take them?”

  “He’d stash them belowdecks somewhere. Separate from the other women, I think. We’re unknowns, and I don’t know how much he suspects about Mads. He won’t risk the rest of his shipment by throwing them all together.”

  Charlie ducked out the door and took position behind the stack. Vincent ran out next, passing the stack to take position against a low wall separating the deck from the maintenance areas. “Tkaczuks have a boat alongside. Ten of them. No, nine. Vlasenko’s men are well armed and prepared, picking them off one by one. I think he set this up on purpose.”

  “He said he’d eliminate the traitor tonight.”

  “Son of a bitch doesn’t have a clue who’s selling him out. He’s afraid it’s his son, but Marko doesn’t fit the bill.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s not smart enough. I mean, not to go against his father, make his own contacts, and be successful at undermining business that way. He’s American born and raised and hasn’t had the years in crime like his father’s men. He’s too corporate America for mafia thug mentality.”

  “What about Vlasenko’s wife, Nadiya? Her family name was Karjakin. Got anything on her?”

  As soon as his brother said her maiden name, Vincent made the missing connection. Prime Minister Toma Karjakin, her brother. Langley hadn’t even looked into the wife’s family, assuming her husband had all the power.

  Mission accomplished. With a quick phone call, he’d be off this boat and homeward bound for the first time in years.

  Without Mads? Who certainly wouldn’t leave behind a single woman trapped in the hold? Hell no. “Vlasenko loves her, I think. At least as much as a man who sells women for a living could love anyone. They lived most of their lives apart. She’s still got family back in Ukraine with major political connections.”

  Charlie rose up enough to look out at the battle and then ducked back down. “The rivals are pinned down by the fire above. If we go out there, we’ll be just as pinned down as they are.”

  “We could go back down to the ballroom and try the main hall, but I’m sure Vlasenko has it heavily guarded. We need some firepower. Didn’t you bring anything to ice him?”

  Charlie gave him an unreadable look. “I didn’t come to kill Vlasenko. I came to kill you.”

  Taken aback, Vincent tightened his grip on the screwdrivers. Could he take out his own brother? Maybe. If his life depended on it. If Mads’s life depended on it. “Then you’re an even bigger fucking idiot than I thought. You’ll need way more than a hammer or a sliver of glass. Why me?”

  “I made a promise.”

  Confused, he shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “When I finally tracked down Clancy, he said he’d groomed us both to take over and continue his work. I swore to him that if you turned out to be a killer like him, that I’d kill you like I killed him. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

  “To kill me?”

  “No. Just to find you. To tell you about him. About Mom. I knew you had to be alive somewhere. I never gave up trying to find you. And if you turned out like him... Well, I always keep my promises.”

  Vincent risked another quick look over the wall. “There’s two men fairly close, hiding behind a stack of crates. If we take them, we’ll at least have two guns.”

  “And be out on the deck, easy pickings. But yeah, at least we’ll be armed. Ready?”

  Not waiting for his brother, he swung over the wall and sprinted toward the crates. Bullets sprayed across the deck, but he dived behind the crates, skidding into the first man. His eyes went wide as Vincent stabbed him in the throat with the screwdriver. The other man yelled, turning to fire. Vincent rolled away from the first man and managed to jam the other screwdriver into the man’s thigh. Screaming, the man fired his gun, a rapid, wild shot that missed completely. He reached for the screwdriver, but the man scrambled away, throwing himself backward.

  Making himself an easy target for Vlasenko’s men.

  Charlie grabbed the man’s boot and dragged him back behind the crate. “They’re well armed. Here, this guy’s bigger. I think his Kevlar will fit you better.”

  Vincent started unsnapping the vest. “I don’t usually wear body armor.”

  “Carry out your death wish another night when my fiancée isn’t going to be sold by a human trafficker.”

  The man had a point. If he could ensure Mads made it out, then he’d put on a dozen vests. Even though it hurt like a bitch to work his injured shoulder enough to put the damned thing on. It was a tight fit through the chest, but he could live with it.

  “You used to be a sniper, right?”

  Keeping his head low, Vincent carefully scanned the upper deck where Vlasenko’s men were stationed. “Yeah, my first job. Looks like fifteen men with mostly machine guns. They don’t have a lot of cover, but are depending on their higher vantage and numbers to keep the Tkaczuks pinned down. Lay down a lot of bullets, get lucky. Then a few better shots to pick off anyone who sticks his head out. Tkaczuks didn’t know they’d be expected.”

  “Do you think you can turn the tables on them while I distract them a bit?”

  He checked the weapon the dead man had carried. He didn’t care much for the shortened carbine of the AK-105, but he could make do. He usually preferred to take precision shots right-handed, but he couldn’t get his wounded shoulder to cooperate. Down on his knees with the rifle braced on a crate, he used the scope to take a better look at the upper deck. He needed to take out the ones that would be the most difficult first, before they had any warning. Taking a deep breath, he let it sound slowly in a controlled sigh. “Go.”

  He didn’t see his brother leave, but he sure heard the immediate spray of gunfire. He popped the first and second men. His aim was a little off, but good enough to bring them down. He scanned for the next best shot. The man ducked just as he fired, but Vlasenko’s men were starting to look around for who was shooting. Vincent shot a few more times even though he didn’t have clean shots, just to keep them looking at him. Hopefully that gave Charlie time to get to cover. Someone screamed and Vincent smiled. His brother had definitely made it.

  Bullets spattered into the wooden crates, sending splinters flying. They wouldn’t last long under heavy fire. He blocked out everything: the thuds and groans as wood gave way to bullets, the shouts and calls from two different groups, even his own heartbeat. Everything slowed, tunneling down to the shot. The next shot. He was the bullet flying perfectly through space and time to strike the enemy.

  The last man backed away from the railing, crawling, trying to get back to the door. Vincent took him with a clean shot to the head.

  Sound roared back, disorienting him a moment. He breathed deeply, shook his head a little and reloaded with a fresh cartridge. Keeping low, he darted across the deck, dodging back and forth to avoid the bodies. Between the Vlasenkos and his brother, the Tkaczuks hadn’t had a chance.

  Two men ran toward him. Actually, toward their getaway boat, which he just happened to be blocking. He brought the weapon up but the first one jerked and started to fall forward. He shifted the rifle toward the other man but held, watching as Charlie seemed to leap from nowhere and ride the man’s back down to the deck. He landed, rolled off and flipped to his feet, pure elegance and casual talent. Vincent checked the man on the ground, ready to put him down, but the claw hamme
r was embedded in the back of his skull.

  “Nice shooting.” Charlie grinned and then turned to run toward the door belowdecks.

  “Nice hammering.”

  Vincent followed him, but his body felt heavy and chilled. His shirt was wet, blood sliding down his chest beneath the body armor. Hopefully they finished this soon and he could get the wound attended to. After surviving a childhood with a serial killer father, dozens of risky missions and then three years in a Russian prison, it’d be pretty stupid to die now from blood loss after a clean bullet wound to the shoulder. Stranger things had happened, though. Like finding Mads right when he’d been ready to cash it all in and let Vlasenko finish him.

  The door was locked, but a few shots from the assault rifle busted it up enough for Charlie to force it open. “Where to?”

  Vincent shrugged and started jogging down the warren of halls and stairs that led deep beneath the boat. “Your guess is as good as mine. We’ll just have to hope we get lucky.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ranay

  Keeping a nervous eye on Sheba, the man paused outside a heavy steel door. “There’s usually guards on this door. I don’t know why they’re gone.”

  “Are the women inside?” Mads asked.

  “Yes, usually.”

  Mads thought a moment and then turned to me. “Throw open the door and then dodge aside. I’ll guard your back. Can you keep Sheba on him so he doesn’t surprise us?”

  Sheba looked up at me, her eyes as intent and excited as if I’d just said the magic word ball. I pointed at the man. “Hold him again.”

  “No, no, please—” His words rose higher in pitch as Sheba got a good hold on his balls.

  I gripped the handle, my palms sweaty. Looking at Mads, I waited for her signal. She took up position several paces back, the pistol held firmly in both hands in front of her. She gave me a short nod. I jerked on the door, but it was so heavy that it barely budged. Gathering my strength, I threw my body behind the pull, dropping my weight down low as the door swung open. I cringed, waiting to clamp my hands over my ears at the roar of gunfire, but nothing happened.

  “Empty.” Mads headed into the hallway, leaving me outside. “This is where they had us earlier, I’m sure of it.” She raced down to the end of the hall and checked both rooms, even though the doors were open. “Yeah, this is it.”

  She came back out and leveled the gun on the man. “Where would Vlasenko take them?”

  “I don’t know.” Shaking, the man held both hands up, involuntarily cringing away but then crying out at the pressure Sheba applied to his crotch. “I swear, I don’t know! They were here!”

  I pushed to my feet and headed down the hallway. “I’ve got an idea. Which one were they in?”

  “The one on the right. I was in the one on the left with another woman.”

  I grabbed a pillow off the bed and came back to Sheba. “Let him go.” She hesitated a little, so I made a down gesture with my hand. She backed off and sat, looking up at me intently. I held the pillow out for her and she sniffed it.

  “Ah, good idea.” Mads waved the man toward the door with the gun. “I don’t think we need you any longer.”

  The man scurried through the door and let out a sigh of relief as she pushed the door shut on him. I guess he’d rather be locked up and have to explain himself to the boss later, than let Sheba take a chunk out of his testicles. Not that I could blame him. Grunting with effort, Mads forced the bolt shut to lock him inside.

  “Find her, Sheba. We need to find her. Can you smell her?”

  She made a deep wuffling breath across the pillow and then started smelling around the door area. Trotting in wider circles, she finally paused and looked back at me, wagging her tail. “She’s got it.”

  I didn’t try to keep track of the turns, but trusted Sheba to lead us where we needed to go. Mads kept the gun out, watching our back. When Sheba paused, her head low and tail stiff, I waved Mads over to the wall and we pressed our backs hard against the cold steel. Sheba pressed against me, crouched low, her gaze intent on something down the hall. Finally we heard footsteps.

  Three men rounded the corner, including Vlasenko. He spoke on the phone, his voice rising with intensity. I had no idea what he was saying, but he sounded pissed and his face was red. He barked several commands into the phone and slammed it shut, but I caught the name MacNiall.

  I drooped against the wall and closed my eyes for a moment. He’s still alive.

  “Sounds like our guys are making a lot of noise upstairs,” Mads whispered. “Do we try to find the guys, or follow Vlasenko?”

  “How many women did he have?”

  “Three others. My guess is he’s going to off-load them early, or maybe move them to a more secure location.”

  “And we’ll lose them.” She nodded grimly, and I made my decision. I couldn’t go off and live my life with Charlie in a blissful beach paradise if I’d knowingly let three women be kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery. I bent down to Sheba. “Find Master.”

  She wagged her tail and immediately jumped out several steps, but paused looking back at me as if waiting for me to follow. “Find Master,” I told her again. “Go.”

  She whined softly, but turned and streaked back up the hallway. I only hoped she could find a way to him without getting stuck behind a shut door or dead-end alley.

  “Show me how to use the gun.”

  Mads grinned and pulled out the gun she’d picked up off a guard. I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to hit the side of a barn with a five-second demonstration, but at least I’d make noise and hopefully distract someone long enough for Mads to nail him.

  “If all else fails, press the gun against the bad guy and then pull the trigger. It’s impossible to miss then. Just make sure the safety’s off first.”

  Yeah. But I really didn’t want to get that close to any bad guys.

  Taking a deep breath, I followed her down the hallway on Vlasenko’s heels.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ranay

  At each intersection, we had to pause and listen, trying to figure out where they’d gone. I was terrified we’d get too close and the guards would see or hear us, but if we lagged too far behind, we’d lose them. The stupid boat seemed to go on forever and I’d never be able to find my way back to the surface. We didn’t even know if Vlasenko would be going to wherever he’d moved the women or not. Worst-case, he’d probably lead us back to wherever Charlie and his brother were fighting. At least that’s what I hoped.

  Tipping her head toward a narrow staircase, Mads held a finger up to her mouth and then took a few steps upward. She listened, and then waved me closer as she climbed higher. The stairs came out to a landing, and then continued upward at ninety degrees. We paused, backs to the wall. Voices drifted down to us through the open hatch. Angry voices. We climbed higher, step-by-step, making sure not to make a sound. Mads scooted over enough to let me come up beside her.

  We’d come out at the back of the boat. A smaller yacht was tied up to the side. I think it was the one we’d used to get here from Vlasenko’s house on Andros. He and several of his men had guns out.

  “That’s Nadiya, Vlasenko’s wife,” I whispered, pointing at the woman on the smaller yacht. “Marko, his son. Why is he pointing a gun at them?”

  “Vincent said he was trying to find a traitor, and Vlasenko suspected his son.”

  Everyone was concentrating on the yacht, so Mads climbed up out of the hatch and scooted forward to a shadowed corner of the small deck. I didn’t hear anything, but one of the rear guards turned and saw something. Maybe the flash of her light hair. “You. Come on out. Now!”

  Mads slowly climbed to her feet, hands up. “Don’t shoot. I’m coming.”

  I ducked lower, hoping and praying they didn’t
come closer. Or shut the hatch, leaving me trapped down here. I tried to think of some way I could help her. I could shoot, maybe distract the guard and she could jump back down with me, but we’d lose the women she was trying to save. She turned her palm toward me, fingers spread, and pushed back. Hide. Stay.

  Charlie had told me to do the same thing. Stay safe, hide, and he’d find me. But I hated seeing the guard grab her arm and jerk her forward. He shoved her so hard she stumbled forward and fell on her knees in front of Vlasenko.

  “You!” He looked around and gestured at his guards. “All these men can’t stop one annoying woman. Well, never mind. You give me some bartering power now.”

  He fisted his hand in her hair and held the gun to her skull. “Give me the women back, or I’ll blow her brains out while you watch.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Marko asked.

  Vlasenko twisted his hand in Mads’s hair, making her cry out. “My shipment is gone. All I have at the moment is one beat-up woman that even two of my men can’t handle. They have to be on that yacht.”

  Marko looked at his mother. Calmly, she replied, “No more shipments. No more women. It’s over. Tonight.”

  I could only see Vlasenko’s profile, but his mouth twisted into a grimace and he shook Mads. “You. My wife. You did this?”

  “It was easy.” Nadiya spread her hands in a casual shrug. “You went to my brother for men as usual. This time, they’re more loyal to me than you it seems.”

  Vlasenko retorted, “Tell me why you did this.”

  “For me.” Her voice broke but her chin tipped up. “I did it for me.”

  “Mama, Mama.” Marko took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing her palm. “What is it? What happened?”

  Vlasenko leveled the gun on his son. “Come up here and face me. Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t betrayed me. Or I’ll shoot our only son.”

  Nadiya squeezed her eyes shut a moment, and then took her son’s hand in hers. They both climbed back onto the larger boat. Marko tried to stand in front of her to protect her, but she firmly stepped around him to glare at Vlasenko. “Marko knows nothing about this.”