Dirty Grovel: Chapter 32

I don’t need to look at her to know that something is wrong.

“Sutton,” I growl, shouldering both my assistants out of the way. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

She shakes her head and I pull her into my office room and shut the door. My first instinct is to tuck her into my arms and wait until she’s stopped shaking.

“Is it the baby?”

“No.”

The relief is fast and fierce. But there are still a million things it could be. “Then what is it?”

“I-it’s my sister.”

That’s leagues and bounds better than what was going on inside my head. But I’m startled to realize that I am worried.

I do care. If for no other reason than that whatever has happened has put that look on my woman’s face.

I take her hand. “Tell me.”

“It’s her boy— It’s Paul,” she corrects herself. “He showed up in a temper last night and ended up killing two of his own men, before abducting Sydney and making a run for it.”

“Blyat,” I mutter. “He ran?”

She stops short, her eyebrows arching. “Why does it feel like you might have more insight into this situation than I do?”

“Lipovsky is involved in a lot of shady shit, Sutton. His name has come up in multiple conversations now. I had to do something.”

“What does that mean?”

I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “It means I have a team in Las Vegas that forced his hand last night. We had a strategy in place. Scare the shit out of him so that he makes the smart decision and defects to me, informs against the Martineks, and turns over Drew Anton.”

She flinches when she hears her ex’s name but otherwise, she doesn’t comment on the casual name drop. “That’s clearly not what he did, Oleg.”

“I was counting on him to be smart and do the right thing. Clearly, I overestimated his intellect.”

“I could have told you that if you’d only asked!” she cries, beads of sweat forming on her brow. “I’ve known Paul for years. I know how he operates, how he thinks. Didn’t you think for one moment that I might have something to add to the conversation?”

“I didn’t want to involve you in Bratva business.”

“Why not? I’m going to be a Bratva wife, aren’t I?” she reminds me. “Shouldn’t I know the ropes?”

“Trust me, princess—and I don’t mean this in a bad way—but you don’t have the stomach for it.”

“He has my sister, Oleg!” she seethes. “He didn’t even wait for their blood to dry before he grabbed Sydney and got the hell out of there.”

“Fucking dumbass,” I say. “He’s going to go down with a sinking ship rather than deal with me.”

“I don’t know what he’s going to do. But I don’t see why my sister should pay the price for it. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Unfortunately, if you’re involved with a Bratva man, then this kind of thing comes with the territory.”

“Meaning what?” she asks. “I can expect my family to be abducted on a whim? I can expect to be abducted myself if some sick bastard decides he wants to get back at you?”

“That is the way of my world,” I growl. “But I’d rather suffer a thousand more scars like these ones—” I point to my face. “—before I let anything or anyone hurt you.”

“If anything happens to Sydney, that will hurt me, Oleg. It’ll destroy me.” She grabs my arm, her nails digging into my flesh through the sleeve. “I’m willing to forgive all the Bratva machinations if you can save my sister.”

“Did she mention where he took her?”

“No. But she did send a location pin,” Sutton says. “I’ll forward it to you now.”

“Good. I will personally go with a secondary team to Vegas. I’ll bring her back to you safely.”

“Oleg, she didn’t want me to tell you. She thought it would be messy, that it would make everything worse if I involved you. She asked me to come alone.”

I’m already shaking my head. “That’s obviously not going to happen.”

“I realize that. All I’m saying is, please be careful. Whatever you do, make sure Sydney gets out of there safely.”

I cup her jaw, forcing her face to mine. “You have my word.”

Then I kiss her. Hard and deep and passionately enough that she stops fighting it.

When I finally break the kiss, her eyes have gone filmy and her lips are rubbed raw.

“Go to Artem and Faye’s place,” I tell her. “Spend the night with them. I don’t want you to be alone while you wait.”

She nods, her expression still laced with worry.

“That’s my girl.” I kiss the top of her head and coax her towards the door. “The team will be waiting at the entrance of the building to take you there.”

I’m dialing the number when she stops at the threshold and spins around. “Oleg?”

“Yes?”

“I keep saying that I need to get my sister back safely.” She swallows, her bottom lip trembling. “But I need to get you back safely, too.”

I smile. “There are many things you should worry about, princess. Getting me back is not one of them.”

Five hours later, my team and I are on the ground in Nevada, racing towards the location that Sydney sent to Sutton.

“Incoming call from Aleph,” Ilya tells me as he presses accept on the car phone.

Aleph’s tough, gravelly voice comes through loud and clear. “Boss, I’ve scoped out the place. Looks like a crack house that the junkies abandoned. Small, dark, boarded up.”

“Is the mudak still camped out in there?”

“Definitely. Infrared scopes show two warm bodies in the corner bedroom. Looks like it’s just him and the girl.”

“Good. We’ll be there in—” I check the distance on maps. “—four minutes.”

Exactly four minutes later, we park down the road from the crack house. My men fan out, waiting for my instructions.

“Surround the house,” I order. “He may be alone in there, but he’s got a hostage and under no circumstances are we to compromise her safety. Is that understood?”

The men agree with a single simultaneous nod.

With a flick of my wrist, I gesture for them to move out. Ilya and Aleph flank me as we charge closer to the house, guns drawn.

It really is a shit hole. The stink of dereliction clings to its rotting walls. The roof has caved in on one side and flocks of green and black mold cluster around the edges of the foundation.

Paul Lipovsky might just be the stupidest fucking criminal I’ve ever met.

I might have been glad about that—but I know from experience that the stupidest criminals are also the most dangerous ones.

“Shall we storm the place, boss?” Aleph asks.

“Let’s give him one more chance to cooperate,” I decide, pulling out Sutton’s phone and pressing call on Sydney’s number.

The call is answered immediately but it’s Lipovsky who speaks, his words clotted thick with anger. “Well, look who’s calling. The snotty little brat who thinks she’s too good for everyone.”

My fists clench with anger. I wait, though. I make myself be patient.

“Speak up bitch,” he growls. “Or did that ugly monster you’re shacking up with ream your throat too good for that?”

I was planning on going easy on him. I might have to reconsider that bit of goodwill now. “The ‘ugly monster’ is right outside your door, dumbass,” I snarl. “Why don’t you come out and say that to my face?”

Silence meets my words. A silence that’s punctuated by a current of fear.

“Y-you’re here?”

The venom in his voice has lost all its clout.

Now, he just sounds like a scared man desperately trying not to shit his pants.

“I’m here and you’re surrounded. Come out now, surrender the woman, give us Drew Anton, and I might go easy on you. This is your last chance.”

“I can’t fucking trust you.”

The line goes dead.

But I spy movement through one of the boards nailed up against the windows.

My earpiece flickers to life as Pavel’s voice comes through. “He’s coming out the back. And he’s using the woman as a shield.”

Of course he is.

Because the fucking coward can’t even go down with dignity.

I walk around to the back of the house with my men at my back. My gun is cocked and ready.

Paul Lipovsky won’t leave this place alive.