“Fuck sakes! It’s about time!” Alek shouted, obviously perturbed. “Anyone else up there?”
“Just me and Dmitri.” He moved down the hall. “What about down there?” Before they’d ducked for cover, they’d taken out four others. Hopefully, there weren’t any more.
The response that came to his inquiry had him freezing mid-step.
Debris crunched underfoot, and then, “I’m down here, Dyadya! You interested in a meet and greet with the man who crippled the organization that killed my family?”
Sergei Pivchenko.
When Vasily heard Alek make a pained sound, his heart almost shattered. “Alek?” He was nearly choked to death when Dmitri grabbed him by the scruff and jerked him back when he would have flown down the stairs to save the boy he’d once secretly smuggled a cap gun past his older brother for. Vasily had waved an Atari game in front of Evgeny’s face on his way by, but when he’d made it into the basement with nine-year-old Alek, he’d produced the small silver gun and a handful of paper cap rolls that they’d snapped until Evgeny had stomped down and confiscated. Vasily had pretended to cry as his brother yelled at him and Alek had laughed as only a nine-year-old could.
“Stay there,” Alek called, his voice tortured. “Aw, Jesus Christ, Sergei. What the fuck happened to you? How could you do this?”
“Dyadya! Come down here! Now! But behave or I will not introduce you to my new pet.” His voice went quiet but Vasily still heard, “What is your name again?”
He met Dmitri’s eye and they both tipped their heads, but they were too far away to hear a response.
“Yes, of course. How could I forget?” Sergei murmured, sounding sarcastic. He shouted up, “Does the name Yana Kurbatov ring a bell?”
An image of his housekeeper hugging Sacha and kissing Lekzi goodbye filled Vasily’s head. He’d told her to take some time, and he would call her when he wanted her back. The worry that had marred Yana’s wrinkled brow had told Vasily she knew something was happening. And she should. Her brother was one of the family’s oldest members. He was still in Moscow, but Yana, because she was trustworthy and had grown up in their world, had been brought to the U. S. and had been proudly taking care of Vasily and his home for over fifteen years. Sergei knew her value.
Vasily straightened and stepped out from around the wall with Dmitri two feet in front of him. Always.
He thought nothing of his destroyed home but was glad he’d chosen to live so far off the beaten path. Hiring a private company to plow the road throughout the winter was well worth the privacy. Unless there had been hunters in the forest behind the house, today’s ruckus would remain their business.
Alek was across the way, unharmed. A disheveled Sergei was in the opening that used to be the front door. He had Yana, a fifty-nine-year-old woman, on her knees, with a grenade duct-taped to her cheek. His pinkie was curled through the pin.
“There you are, Uncle. The captain who keeps this ship afloat.”
As they made level ground, Vasily ignored the cold air pouring into the house and looked into the vacant eyes of his sister’s son.
“I had hoped for a more dramatic end to my time in the United States. I wanted your daughter to be here. I wanted his daughter to be here.” Sergei pointed at Alek, who wore a fierce frown as his gaze zipped from Vasily to Sergei to Yana…then back over his shoulder. It had better be Anton he was looking at. “Anyone with Tarasov blood running through their veins was supposed to be present,” Sergei continued. “But I have realized you are not about to let that happen so we will end this now.” He raised the hand that was down by his side and pointed a gun at Dmitri. “Stop moving toward me. I am not finished yet, and if you interrupt by making me shoot you, which will cause all sorts of panic, well, you will be dead and my moment will have been ruined. Chain your dog, Uncle. Tell him we will all be dead in a minute so there is no need for him to play hero.”
Vasily tried to block out the bullshit and think. “Yana doesn’t belong here, Sergei. Be the man you once were and allow her to walk away.”
Sergei shook his gun in a no-no motion as he lowered it again. “I’m afraid she is going to be more of that collateral damage that has been trailing behind me since this began.”
“Is that what Kathryn was?” he said before he could stop himself.
Sergei came a few steps closer, forcing Yana to scramble after him, neck extended. He paid her no attention as he scrutinized Vasily. “It kills you that she is gone, does it not? Does it?” he shouted.
Vasily kept his feelings on the subject to himself by not answering. He got a careless shrug in reaction.