The Bratva King's Kidnapped Bride - Page 55

Impatience was easier to deal with than the devastating fear we might be too late.

“Like I said, they’re not dumb enough to kill her.” Lev gripped my shoulder and called Max for an update on the ground crew.

How quickly he’d gone from assuring me they wouldn’t hurt her to wouldn’t kill her. It was hardly an assurance at all.

A moment later, my phone rang for the first time since I told my brothers to use Lev as our contact in order to leave my number free in case the kidnappers wanted to make their demands. It was a number I didn’t recognize, and I answered it before the second ring.

At first, there was only a rough coughing noise, then a whispered voice that made my heart soar. “Aleks, it’s me.”

The line went dead, and I shouted for the computer specialists. “I’ve got her. She just called.”

Lev made a whoop of victory, but it was short-lived when I called back, and the phone was turned off.

“Why would they let her call if they weren’t going to give us instructions?” he asked.

“Maybe she got one of their phones somehow,” one of the computer team suggested.

I nodded at her. “Katie would have taken an opportunity if she saw one.” My mind reeled. I was proud of her for trying to save herself but hoped they wouldn’t harm her for it. It was clear that if she’d called without them knowing, they knew now.

“It keeps going straight to voicemail,” I said, about to scream in frustration.

“Doesn’t matter,” another of the specialists said. “We can still track the last cellphone tower that number pinged off of. We’ll have a location soon.”

Back to pacing for what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes, and she shouted that they had found the tower. I gathered around the computer as she honed in on a point on the map. It was miles out in the desert, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, but when she zoomed in as far as the satellite image would allow, there appeared to be a small building of some sort.

“Now we’ve really got her,” Lev said, already on the phone to send our brothers and their guys in that direction.

We’d been deceived by the initial direction the car had turned and by someone mistaking them on another CCTV camera, so they were all heading too far north to get there any sooner than us. Lev and I had our cars already loaded up with weapons, so we chose our best-trained men and headed out.

We had two SUVs full of guns, ammo, and various explosives, along with surveillance gear if it looked like we needed to use stealth once we arrived. It all depended on how heavily our enemies had Katie guarded, something we wouldn’t know until we were practically right on top of them. Lev drove one vehicle with two highly trained snipers, I was barreling down the highway in another with three guys who were good with explosives as well as their fists, and Max had met up with our convoy with some of his best shooters and more firearms.

As we raced toward our destination, I received a text message from an unknown number, different from the one Katie had called on. I clicked on it, glad I had let Lev talk me into not driving, though my driver wasn’t going nearly as fast as I would have liked. My brother thought we’d get there sooner if none of us were stopped for speeding violations since the desert roads were rife with traffic stops.

The message opened to reveal a picture, and my hand tightened around the phone.

I took slow breaths as I looked at Katie’s bruised face, her body curled up in a corner on a filthy concrete floor. For a moment, the rage that coursed through me was a welcome distraction compared to the fear that quickly followed. Was she still alive? Were they taunting me with her lifeless body?

They wouldn’t dare.

Before I could let out the primal roar that was building in my throat, the phone rang with the same number. I answered it immediately in a voice anyone sane would have cowered upon hearing.

“Your wife is still alive, Fokin.”

It was the head of the Armenian organization, sounding far too smug. “That should be a given if you want to survive this night,” I told him.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be giving threats,” he said. “Not if you want to see her again.”

It occurred to me that he was operating under the assumption that I had no clue about where they were keeping her. That I wasn’t already halfway there.

“Tell me where she is, and we can forget this ever happened,” I said, testing my theory.

He laughed. “Not so fast. First, you have to agree to a few things.”

I held back my own laugh. He must have thought I was still at home biting my fingernails. “Tell me what you want,” I said, pretending to go along with him.

“Meet me in three hours, or else you’ll never see her again.” He paused, letting out a sinister chuckle that made me want to twist his head off his neck. “I’m not saying we’ll kill her, but I guarantee you she won’t be having a good time. Every minute you’re late is a minute she’ll be suffering.”

I muted the call and asked the driver what our estimated arrival time was. We had already eaten up a good distance and he answered that we’d be there in less than an hour. I unmuted the call.