Until the End (20 page)

Two thrusts later, he was groaning into the curve of her neck. They were both breathing heavily, still clinging to each other as they came down.

He felt her laughing quietly. “I think you made your point.”

Mishca laughed, making her shiver in response, feeling him still inside her. As he pulled out of her he nearly cursed, realizing too late that he hadn’t bother to use protection at all.

“I’m on the pill,” she said as though she could read his thoughts. “Do you think they heard us?”

“Hell yea!” Tristan yelled from the other side of the door.

“God, have you been standing there the whole time? Fuck off!” Lauren shouted back. His laughter died down as Tristan drifted off. “I don’t think I’ll ever live this down.”

“No worries.”

She straightened her clothes, blushing prettily as he tucked himself back into his pants.

“I haven’t made my point yet,” he said when he had her attention again. “Naomi was with me for many years, yes, but I have never felt for her an ounce of what I feel for you. When I tell you I love you, they are not just words, they’re my promise to you. Don’t let Naomi’s bitterness detract from what we have.”

Her answering smile was all he needed to know that everything would be alright.

Lauren was in Mishca’s office, sitting on his desk as he looked over plans for the new club he was opening. She had never been in here while he was working, letting him work in peace, but tonight he had invited her, wanting to have something beautiful to look at, he’d said.

She thought it might have been because of their blowup last week. If he were trying to prove that Naomi meant nothing to him, he was doing a good job of it. Since that day, he had made it a point to spend all of his free time with her, even bringing her along when he went to Brighton Beach for
Bratva
business, though she hadn’t actually went in with him, staying out on the pier to look at the water.

Naomi hadn’t made any unplanned visits either. In fact, Mishca hadn’t mentioned her once. Either that meant she was done trying to stir up trouble, or she was—in Lauren’s opinion—trying to think of what to try next.

Earlier, Mishca had shown her the switch that turned the frosted glass to clear, giving her a view of the entirety of the club. Leaving her book on his desk, she jumped down, going over to look out.

“This is a really nice view,” Lauren said absently, going over to the glass to peer out at the dance floor.

She canted her head to the side, staring at the odd group of men that were stealthily making their way through the club. She couldn’t say what made her pick them out from the scores of people surrounding them, yet her gaze was drawn to them.

It might have been their attire, too formal for the place. There were three of them, all dressed in black, but one walked slightly ahead of the others. He, unlike the others, was wearing a large black coat.

“Mish?”

When he crossed the room to stand behind her, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her back against him, she pointed them out.

There was this misconception that time slowed when something traumatic happened, but that wasn’t how this went.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Mishca leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make out the men, but at the same time as the leader in the pack of men reached into his coat.

Lauren had only seen the handle of something black before Mishca was shoving her to the ground, covering her body with his as gunshots rang out. Glass shattered, raining shards pelting them.

The sound of the shots was deafening, but even louder were the screams of the people below them.

More shots.

More screams.

Lauren was trembling beneath him, covering her ears to block it all out, though that only helped to muffle it. There was no escaping the chaos.

Then it all stopped, at least the bullets stopped.

People were still screaming for their lives and when Mishca levered up to give her room to breathe, she immediately looked below.

He reached down to help her up, careful to keep her from cutting herself on the broken glass.

“Are you alright?” He whispered next to her ear, the chaos below them making it hard to hear.

“I’m fine.”

At least she thought so. There was minimal damage to her person besides a few nicks to her palms, and her ears were ringing from the gunshots.

Mishca pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt, pressing the button on the side. “Check-in.”

A series of replies sounded and with the last one, Mishca told them all to do damage control. Grabbing her hand, he led her out of his office.

The damage was far more serious than Lauren had realized when she was upstairs. From what she could see near her position at the bar, nearly all the bottles of alcohol were broken, the liquids dripping onto the floor. Most of the glass surfaces were shattered, coating the floor in shards of it.

She tried to stay out of the way as Mishca shouted at his men in heated Russian, the words flying way over her head. It couldn’t have just been a handgun, she knew, there were too many bullet holes in the walls for that.

Her heart was racing, the adrenaline flowing through her veins making her jittery. She saw a couple of EMTs rushing in with a stretcher, going over to a woman holding her arm, blood leaking between her fingers. She was leaning against a man of the same approximate age who looked more panicked than she did.

That was how Lauren felt. She
should
have been freaking out, probably hyper-ventilating in a corner, but besides the rush of emotions going through her, she didn’t feel any different.

She hated to think she was getting used to this type of violence.

The police arrived moments later, securing the scene, blocking off the exits with yellow ‘Caution’ tape. There were at least six of them, two trying to keep the people that were still outside calm, the others taking statements.

When Mishca noticed them, he looked back at Lauren, seeming to weigh a decision before coming over to her. He brushed the few strands of hair that stuck to her forehead back, shrugging out of his jacket to wrap around her arms. He must have thought she was cold.

“Is there something you want me to say?” Lauren asked carefully. Talking to law enforcement was strictly forbidden—even she knew that—and she didn’t want to do anything wrong.

“Tell them what you saw. This had nothing to do with me.”

But she didn’t believe that. When he said it, his eyes flickered to the left, a move she might have missed if she hadn’t been looking for it. That meant, he had to know who those men were, and if not, at least why they came.

She didn’t have time to question him about that, Detective Rodriguez had just walked in.

Rodriguez was one of the detectives working with Ross months ago when he’d come up as a consultant. He had been kind, with bronze skin and dark eyes, but Lauren knew that once he saw her, he would be telling Ross.

He was talking to a shorter woman with shoulder-length blonde hair when he spotted her standing next to Mishca. His eyebrows drew together as he silently said her name, immediately sidetracked.

She could see the suspicion in his eyes as he crossed the room, glass crunching beneath his dress shoes. He didn’t stop until he had a ginger hold on Lauren’s arm, guiding her away. She was willingly walking with him, but that didn’t seem to matter to the giant that was now blocking their path.

He was glaring down at Rodriguez, folding massive arms across his equally massive chest.

“It’s okay, Igor. Leave them.”

At Mishca’s command, he stepped to the side, huffing as he returned to whatever he was doing before.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rodriguez hissed, eyeing her, then Mishca and back again.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“
Try
.”

“Couples fight and they make up,” she said easily, knowing that that was the best she could do.

“That isn’t how this works. With them, there is no out.” He grabbed her wrists, turning them over. “At least you didn’t let him mark you.”

He couldn’t have known that the stars were a sore subject with her, but the mention of them had her snatching her arms back.

“Detective, can I help you?” Mishca asked appearing at her side.

His voice was low, menacing and because he was standing with his body almost angled in front of hers, his men paid close attention to what he would do next. The officers must have been warned about Mishca’s background because they wasted no time focusing their gazes on Rodriguez and Mishca, their hands hovering over their belts.

Rodriguez stood up straighter, his chin rising as he looked down his nose at Mishca. “I need to take Lauren’s statement if you don’t mind.”

“None at all. I can assist since she and I were together at the time.”

Rodriguez was grinding his teeth, but he had no choice but to comply, not wanting to make a scene. He withdrew his notepad, taking down everything Lauren volunteered, and though he hated to admit it, Mishca’s view of the shooting was better since Lauren was beneath him at the time.

When he was done, flipping his notebook closed, he looked to Lauren. “I still think you should come by the station…if you remember anything.” He withdrew one of his business cards and handed it to her.

He disappeared back out into the crowd, leaving Lauren with a slightly irritated Mishca.

“I’m fine, Mish,” she promised when he turned her hands over to look at her wrists. “He didn’t grab me that hard.”

“Still.” He brought her hands up to his face, pressing a soft kiss to both.

Despite the craziness around him, he made an effort to make her feel okay. “Seriously, I’m good. Do I need to stay for anything else?”

She figured he would want her to leave since there was no need for her to hang around, but he surprised her when he shook his head.

“Stay, I don’t want you leaving by yourself and I need Vlad here for the time being.”

“But won’t I be in the way? I’m kind of just standing here.”

She trailed off when she noticed Mishca was no longer listening, his attention back at the entrance of his club where she could see a black Explorer pulling up with flashing blue lights.

Two vague shapes climbed out of the truck, flashing their credentials before ducking beneath the yellow tape and walking inside.

One was female, one was male. The latter wore a traditional black suit and tie, his dress shirt pristine. He had eyes like a hawk, immediately zeroing on Vlad and the men, then to Mishca and Lauren.

His partner, though, only had eyes for Mishca.

She was tall, made even taller by the heels she wore. Her hair was long, cascading down her back, pin-straight. She also had the smile of a woman that was used to a position of power.

There was a difference between her and the man that was trailing behind her, and the detectives already present. She held her head high, cutting through the crowd with considerable ease.

Mishca cursed beneath his breath, his entire demeanor changing as he took a step forward, wanting to cut her off before she could get too close and notice Lauren with him. Judging from the expression on his face, he already knew the woman quite well.

“Special Agent Tabitha Green, always a pleasure.”

Despite the rather content smile on his face, Mishca couldn’t have sounded more condescending if he tried.

The Agent smiled, placing a hand on her hip as she stopped some feet away, the gold badge at her waist glinting in the low light.

“Volkov.”

“I doubt this was the act of a terrorist, what do I owe the honor of having the FBI in my club?”

She grinned, all straight white teeth. “Only the best for my favorite Captain. I thought I could lend my expertise in case it might be a new syndicate in town trying to send a message.”

Lauren couldn’t see Mishca’s face since he was turned away from her, and since he lowered his voice, she couldn’t make out what he was saying either.

Whatever he’d said made her laugh. “Nonsense. Now, how about you give
me
your statement and I’ll corroborate it with my other witnesses.”

How can she have witnesses if she just got here
? Lauren wondered still looking at her.

“Fine,” Mishca said raising his voice. “We can step over here.”

He was deliberately trying to keep her attention off of Lauren, but he should have known that by doing so, she would find it suspicious.

Before she could say anything to Lauren, however, Lauren turned her back and began walking to the back of the club. She’d said everything she saw and telling another person—especially an FBI agent—would not help.

Just as quickly as the agents had arrived, more people were entering the club. This was supposed to be a crime scene and the tape was meant to keep everyone out to prevent any further contamination of the scene, but even if they tried, and they didn’t, the police couldn’t hold back their latest guest.