Untouchable (The Blankenships Book 8) (3 page)

CHAPTER SIX

Alex jerked as the world shook violently around him. There was an agonizing moment where he didn’t remember where he was or what was going on, and his brain assured him that he was tumbling through the air because his building had been hit by a plane. Any moment now, he’d feel the crash as he landed on whatever ruin was below his body, and then tons of building material would land on top of him as he was crushed—

No. No, he wasn’t in New York. He was on a plane. He was on a plane over near Asia, with Zoey and Leo, the plane was landing, it felt like there was a strong crosswind, there was the bump and the whirr as the wheels made contact with the tarmac, and he could breathe again. It took more effort than he liked, but he could breathe.

On the other side of the cabin, Zoey showed him a soft smile. She looked better rested and calmer than she had when they’d lifted off again outside of Moscow. That was good. The ereader had been a good idea, then. It wasn’t just about giving her a gift; he knew how much those tiny touches of normalcy could make a difference when everything seemed up in the air.

The plane slowed and then stopped, and they gathered the few things they’d brought with them as they waited for stairs to arrive at the plane’s exit. Alex was acutely aware of how very much he smelled, how badly he needed a shower, and the rough stubble that had sprung up over his jaw. Maybe it was just as well they’d ended up tangled together last night—this morning—whenever—instead of his head between her thighs. He hated to think of the delicate skin roughened and red with abrasion from his stubble.

As they stood, Zoey moved just a few steps closer, enough that she could thread her fingers through his. It always surprised him, how slim her fingers were. She was a tall woman, with hands that seemed proportional to the rest of her, but her fingers themselves were long and thin but incredibly strong; as she tightened her grip over him, he felt her assurance and strength washing through him. He squeezed back, wanting to tell her that yes, somehow, they would get through this together. They were in this together.

The flight attendants opened the door, and he let Leo lead the way down the ramp stairs. It was dark out, night descending quickly, but even then, he saw Leo’s step falter and heard the muffled Russian curse. Alex was already searching the darkness for the shape of a man he had hoped he’d never see again. He had never allowed himself to even consider this possibility. He wondered if Leo had thought about it.

Yes, of course he had. He’d been full of quiet contemplation and bad dreams since they’d left New York. Of course he’d known this could happen. He was just hoping against hope that it wouldn’t, hoping he could get his friends to safety first.

Alex felt his mind beginning to spin, moving too fast to be truly helpful. Running back up the ramp stairs wouldn’t help; it was likely that the crew had been paid off, and all the money in the world wouldn’t convince them to go against the orders they’d presumably received. They could hit the ground running, but where would they go? His Russian was humiliatingly bad since he’d only ever been able to get Leo to teach him the curses, and his father had been more interested in teaching him the languages of the Far East. He sure as hell didn’t speak any Uzbek. They might find people who spoke English who were willing to help them for pay, but for him to access any funds would mean revealing himself to anyone who was tracking them back in the United States, and that was the whole purpose of fleeing to Leo’s safe house and not his own.

As much as it grated, the only possible solution right now was to follow Leo down the ramp stairs, stand fast, and hope like hell that his friend could get them out of this situation.

Zoey’s hand was even tighter in his; even if she had no idea what was going on, she was probably aware of the nervousness that was pouring off himself and Leo. He wanted to turn to her, reassure her, but that was even more likely than usual to be a lie.

Breathe,
he told himself and tried like hell to follow his own instructions.
Just breathe
.

They stepped onto the tarmac, Leo first, moving to the right to allow Zoey and Alex room to descend after him, though he carefully positioned himself between the big man, taking up the shadows and the two Americans. The man spoke in Russian, his syllables blurring far too fast for Alex to pick anything out.

“Hello, Father,” Leo said in English.

Alex heard Zoey gasp beside him as she tucked herself a little closer to Alex’s side apparently without even thinking about it. He squeezed her hand one more time and tried to remember to breathe. It was all that he could do.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Even though she’d slept on the long flight, it hadn’t been the sort of sleep that led to actual rest. After Alex had given her the ereader, she’d lost herself in the silly delight of a regency romance novel, the kind of thing she indulged in when she was at home, curled up in a blanket on her couch or relaxing in a bath. She’d been able to curl up on the plane and almost pretend that she was back there again.

But the plane had landed, and everything here looked so different. She couldn’t put her finger on why exactly. Small airports and landing strips were basically the same, no matter where you went, so she assumed it had to have something to do with the light as it filtered down over them, or the lack of it; night was falling fast.

As they stepped off the plane, their one bag slung over Alex’s shoulder, she felt the exact moment when everything went to hell.

She’d seen the three men standing in the shadows of the plane’s wing. Two of them wore sunglasses, even in the dark, and had their arms crossed with their hands resting in front of their groins, the universal pose of bodyguards everywhere, apparently. The third, though. He was something else, even in the dim light. He was massive, for one thing. Leo was big, but this man would dwarf him. For another, even in total stillness, hands stuffed in his pockets, he was a walking threat. Every line of his body seemed to imply that violence would occur at any moment.

But they weren’t coming here to hang out with Scouts or anything; they were fleeing dangerous people and hoping that other dangerous people would protect them. She assumed that these were Leo’s dangerous people.

But then Leo’s step faltered, and panic rose through her in a wave. The only reason for him to falter was if he saw something he didn’t expect, which meant that the plan was not being followed. That something was wrong.

Alex’s hand squeezed hers in something painfully close to a convulsion. She glanced at him, and his eyes were already on her. The look he gave her was probably supposed to be reassuring, but really, he just looked like he might be sick. His eyes darted all around, but his hesitation was barely noticeable, and he led her down the ramp stairs in Leo’s wake. It made her stomach twist to follow, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do either.

When the huge man spoke to Leo, and Leo responded by calling him father, she felt her body go loose with fear. She couldn’t pinpoint why, not in that moment. Leo had never said anything particular about his father, and Alex certainly hadn’t mentioned him, but knowing the little bit she did about the danger and darkness Leo carried with him, seeing this other man carrying so much more left her body churning.

The man answered Leo’s greeting with more Russian, and Leo snapped back. The man’s face split with a cold and vicious smile that showed too many teeth. “I told you,” the man said, “not to ever disgrace the soil of our home,
pidor
. I thought I was clear.” His English was barely accented, which was disorienting somehow. In the movies, the evil Russian mobster always spoke with a thick, harsh accent that you could barely decipher.
Just a little more proof that we’re not in a movie
, Zoey thought. A giggle, born of panic, wiggled around in her throat and tried to escape. She bit the inside of her cheek hard and forced the pain to turn into focus. She had to pay attention. If there was a chance to escape, she had to take it. She knew Alex would be looking, too, but while she trusted him to help her, if he could, that wasn’t the same as relying on him.

She tightened her grip on her fingers and waited.

“I didn’t come to your home, Father,” Leo said, his voice formal, and more firm than Zoey thought she would have managed in the same circumstances. There was no hint of weakness or fear in his voice at all. “I came to a place that was once safe for my mother and I, and I am not inconveniencing you in any way. I ask nothing of you. My friends and I need only be on our way. We’ll be gone as soon as I can arrange it.”

It almost seemed like it was going to be enough. As if the huge man would relent, would tell them to carry on, it was all a big mistake. But the money didn’t last, and really, Zoey wasn’t sure she’d ever thought that it would. It had just been a moment of hope stretching out before it was snatched away yet again. Leo’s father shook his head. “No,” he said. He spoke in Russian to the men standing beside him, never taking his eyes off his son. The two men started forward, and she could feel fear spreading through Leo faster than he could tamp it down. Leo threw a solid punch, making the first of the two thugs stumble, but the other had wrestled his arms behind his back within moments. The man he’d hit took a moment to recover and then slammed two solid fists into Leo’s gut. Leo didn’t make a sound beyond the huff of air rushing out of his lungs. He sagged, the fight gone.

The men didn’t even look at Zoey and Alex. For a moment, that hope came rushing back in. The man was going to take Leo, and then she and Alex could climb the stairs back to the plane. They could go back to London, or—God, she didn’t know where, she didn’t care, but somewhere else. Anywhere else. She hated it, she hated feeling hope as her friend was pushed back towards his father and shoved into the back of a black car that looked entirely too much like a coffin for her taste. She could feel Alex trembling next to her, and she suspected that he was consumed with the need to do something, to change something, but there was nothing that he could do. Nothing that either one of them could do. She told herself that Leo would respect their needing to keep themselves safe. She told herself that this wasn’t a moment she’d have nightmares about for the rest of her life.

And then the big man, Leo’s father, stared into the growing darkness past where she and Alex stood. “I have my son,” he said, in his clear English. “You may do what you wish with these two.”

It hurt so much worse to have hope and have it yanked away than it did to just give up in the first place. Alex let out a roar as several men, smaller than those who had surrounded Leo’s father, came at them out of nowhere that Zoey had noticed. She was lifted up bodily, and she tried to kick out at her attacker, but she couldn’t land a blow anywhere that mattered. A bag went over her head, and something primal inside of her froze. She couldn’t make herself move when she didn’t know where she’d be moving to. The cloth was thin enough that she could breathe, but not well enough to be able to do much else. She could hear Leo speaking in a rapid string of mixed English and Russian, but she couldn’t make out the words. She understood the tone, though. Pleading. For his friends’ lives, she could only assume.

Everything felt distant, distracted.

Her hands were bound behind her by something thin and flexible, and she was led up a set of stairs. She wouldn’t have had any idea what was happening if she hadn’t just spent however long on a plane. As soon as it began to move, she knew what was happening.

She was on a plane. She was being taken somewhere. She thought Alex was with her—after they’d pushed her down into a seat and strapped her down, there had been a heavy thump, as if a decently sized man had been tossed to the floor in front of her—but with the hood over her eyes, there was no way to be sure.

She waited for the moment where her heart gave up. Where the fear stopped everything inside of her and she was reduced to absolutely nothing. It had to be just around the corner, after all; there was no way she could continue to hold out against the kind of terror that was threatening to consume her.

But the terror didn’t come this time. The small kernel of hope that had bloomed when Leo was led away refused to disappear. She didn’t know why, but as the plane lifted off the runway, she found herself starting to laugh. Whether it was because she just wanted to live that much or because her heart had figured out some kind of a plan, even if it hadn’t told her brain, she didn’t know. But the terror didn’t devour her like she’d always feared. It sat in a separate part of her mind, as most of her was gently and quietly consumed by the need to focus on getting free.

Her moment would come. She would just need to be ready when it arrived.