Page 69 of Kidnapped Bride

I'd been awake for thirty-one hours and I didn't feel a single one of them. After the twenty-four hour mark, I had tried to nap, but cold rage kept me too alert to nod off.

All of this had started with my trying to keep things as quiet as possible to avoid getting cops involved, but now I was planning to go in loud and proud. Markin would never see us coming.

Yakov laid the weapons out on the kitchen table of my safe house like a buffet.

Two Glocks, a Sig Sauer, his personal AK he'd pulled from the trunk, extra magazines, a combat knife he kept strapped to his ankle that I'd never once seen him without.

But Vlad was already geared up, checking the slide on his nine millimeter. All of his other weapons were strapped on. And none of us spoke much before a fight, though tonight, we were going over plans.

I pulled the plate carrier over my head and tightened the straps. My ribs ached from where I'd hit the floor during the blast,but pain was just information right now, reminding me to stay focused on my goal—removing Xavier Markin from this planet as painfully as possible.

"Port authority shift change is at eleven," Yakov said, slapping a magazine into place. "Markin's gonna move on those containers before midnight. He thinks we've got his product locked up in our storage units, and he's hemorrhaging cash every hour it sits there."

"How many men does he have left?" I asked. The intel about this strike had come in midday while I was with Dr. Keller and Kira, learning I would be a father soon.

It didn’t surprise me that Markin would try to storm the castle and get his blow back. He wasn't foolish. Without those drugs, he couldn’t pay off his debts and Salazar would come hunting.

"After the other night?" Vlad shrugged one shoulder. "Intel says he pulled in reinforcements from the west side, but we're looking at maybe fifteen, twenty guys, tops. Half of them are new muscle and probably not trained well."

"Good." I holstered the Glock at my hip and tucked my backup into my waistband at the small of my back. I wasn't running low on ammunition tonight. "We'll hit them at the port. Gregg's intel says Markin's gonna be there personally. He doesn't trust anyone else to handle this and he's desperate.

Yakov glowered at me, lowering his voice. "No mercy?"

"None," I said, and I meant it.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kira's face covered in blood, limp in my arms while my house burned behind us. Markin had signed his own death warrant the second he put charges outsidemy bedroom where his own daughter slept. The man had no moral code at all. He was a sick son of a bitch who deserved everything that was coming for him tonight and beyond the grave.

Vlad tossed me a radio earpiece and I fitted it in. We'd done this a hundred times at least, maybe more. The choreography was muscle memory now, so familiar to all of us, we'd grown comfortable with killing.

Though, we lived by a code none of us would break. It was what set us apart from men like Markin who weren't worthy of the air they breathed.

"Niko?" I heard, and my eyes rose to see Kira standing in the doorway.

She was wearing one of my T-shirts that hung past her knees, and her face was still stained from blood, the gash at her hairline held together with butterfly strips the doc had put on. But what caught my attention was her arm.

She'd pulled the IV out. A spot of blood sat in the crook of her elbow where she'd ripped the tape off. After those first few hours, he'd decided to keep her on the IV another day or two, and she'd clearly had enough of it.

"What are you doing up?" I said. "Doc told you to stay in bed."

"Where are you going?" She ignored my question and gawked at the table full of guns, then at Yakov and Vlad in their gear. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy but sharp underneath. She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what this was.

I looked down, frustrated that I felt I had to explain myself.

Her father was a man much like me who did similar things.

She had to know that I was going to go after him for what he'd done. He had almost killed her. I couldn’t let that slide.

"Go back to bed, Kira." My hands worked mechanically, sliding a knife in my boot, then shoving more free rounds into my pockets to reload if necessary.

"You're going after my father." She stepped into the kitchen, one hand bracing against the counter like she wasn't sure her legs would hold. Yakov eyed me with a glower.

Women didn't belong in these sorts of situations unless they'd been trained, and not only was Kira not trained, but she was also pregnant. No way in hell I was letting her be any part of this, not even the voice of reason.

"Niko, please." Her voice was a whimper, her eyes pleading with me. "Don't kill him."

"Kira—"

"I know what he did." She tiptoed in, watching me and ignoring my men. I felt them tense but they both stayed quiet. "I know he tried to kill you, and I know he would've killed me too and he probably wouldn't have lost sleep over it." She stopped a few feet from me. She was fighting her emotion back and I could see how much energy it took her to maintain control. "But he's my father… And if you kill him tonight, I'm gonna have to look at you every day knowing you're the one who did it." Her throat worked as she swallowed. "I don’t think I can do that."