Sold to the Hitman(56)

“Wh-what was that?” I ask, my eyes huge.

Andrei holds me close and covers me with his body as we rush out of the apartment, down the hall, and into the elevator. I’m still shaking when we reach the ground floor lobby, Andrei nearly carrying me as we run out to his Corvette in the parking garage.

“Andrei!” I shout, tears in my eyes. “I’m scared! Please tell me what is happening!”

“There’s no time,” he says flatly, easing me into the back seat and throwing the duffel bag in the trunk. I put my hands protectively over my pregnant belly, looking out the windows.

“Why can’t I sit up there with you?” I ask, leaning over the console as Andrei slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. We peel out of the parking garage just as another car zooms out of a spot just a few rows away and quickly falls in behind us.

“Get down!” Andrei shouts, spinning the wheel so that the car turns a sharp corner, slinging me back into the seat. “Lay down on the seat! Don’t sit up for anything, don’t look out the windows!”

I fall back on my side, curling my legs up to my belly and wrapping my arms around the unborn child inside me, whispering nonsensical words of comfort to him as though he could hear me. We fly around corners so fast that I feel the tires come up off the road slightly, the Corvette drifting around hairpin turns. It occurs to me that Andrei is trying to shake off someone who is tailing us.

Somebody is chasing us.

Probably the same people who fired into our living room.

“What are we gonna do?” I whimper, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“You’re going someplace safe, moya lyubova. Don’t you worry.”

“Who’s after us?”

“Bad people. You don’t need to think about that. Just focus on yourself and that little baby, okay? I promise everything will work out, just trust me.”

Finally, the wild, sudden turns give way to an engine-roaring, pedal-to-the-floor increase in speed as we shoot straight forward down what I assume is a highway. I know we’ve got to be driving at least thirty over the speed limit, but Andrei doesn’t slow the car at all.

“Did we lose them?” I ask, sounding very frail and terrified.

“For now, yes. But we have to hurry,” Andrei answers. Then, in a more serious tone, he continues. “Listen to me, malyshka. I am going to take care of everything. You’re going ahead of me, and I know you’ll be scared, but just know that I will be right behind you. Everything is already set up and you have nothing to worry about. They already know you’re coming —”

“They? Who? Where?” I ask, sitting up in the seat against Andrei’s orders.

I see that we are pulling down a dirt road, barreling along the narrow path through the thick trees, branches scraping the sides of the Corvette. Andrei doesn’t seem to care; he is completely focused on the road ahead. Finally the car screeches to a stop in front of a small building with a massive black concrete field behind it. Peeking through the trees is what looks to be… a small airplane.

“No,” I murmur under my breath. Andrei leaps out of the car, takes the duffel bag out of the trunk, and starts wheeling it away, beckoning for me to follow.

I reluctantly get out of the car and hurry after him, holding my belly.

“Mi prishli, Pavel!” he calls out as we run to the little concrete structure. A short, squat, bespectacled man with receding brown hair and a bearded face full of laugh lines peeks out of the door, gesturing for us to hurry inside.

“Toropis!” the man barks at us. “Come on!”

He ushers us in, takes the duffel bag, and starts waddling away toward the plane outside. But then suddenly he turns around and does a double-take, blinking rapidly as he looks me up and down. He adjusts his tiny, round-frame glasses and then frowns at me, shaking his head. He folds his arms over his chest and gives Andrei a dubious look.

“What is it? We have to hurry!” Andrei hisses at him, his large frame towering over Pavel’s in an almost comical way.

But the older man clucks his tongue. “Gospodin Petrov, you know I cannot fly her.”

Andrei rounds on him, aggressively reaching for the man’s collar, but Pavel moves out of the way and points accusingly at me — more specifically, at my pregnant belly.

“Slishkom opasno! She is too beremenna! Bad for the baby!” Pavel exclaims.

Andrei’s face hardens and he looks at me with panic in his eyes.

“Are you sure? Is there really no way?” he asks.

The smaller man shakes his head. “Not safe, moy drug. I cannot take her in good conscience. The flight to Sibir is long and hard.”