Dancing in Her Webs | Yelena Belova [1]

Chapter 17

  "Exactly. "Yelena faced forward again. She arched both legs up and placed her arms atop her knees again. She shook her head, "You don't care. You don't care. The only thing you care about are your stupid glory days as the Crimson Dynamo, and no one wants to hear about it."

  Irina even more awkwardly looked around the cozy room as a longer silence passed before Alexei whispered, "It's the Red Guardian."

  "Get out." Yelena demanded her father-figure, but he remained in place. "Get out!" Irina jumped from the sudden outburst, and looked over her shoulder at Alexei.

He met her gaze, then sighed heavily as he stood, disconnecting theirs eyes. The Red Guardian made it two steps before stopping, his back to Irene and Yelena, and he put a hand up to his face, like he's thinking. "I can't remember . . ." Irina's brow lifted at his . . . singing? "If I cried . . ." and his hand dropped back to his side as he turned and walked to the loveseat, " . . . when I read about his widowed bride. Something touched me deep inside the day, the music . . . died." Irina smiled —Yelena's favourite song. She knew Alexei cared. Irina looked at Yelena as Alexei continued, Yelena repeating some words here-and-there. "And they were singing—" Yelena broke their eyes as she inclined her head and chuckled, smiling, "—Bye-bye, Miss American Pie." Irina now grinned, meeting Alexei's gaze. She gave him a thumbs up, to which he chuckled and smiled mid-song, "Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinking whiskey . . . singing . . ."

  As Yelena joined Alexei in softly singing the tune, Irina closed her eyes and laid her head on some part —she's not sure which part— of Lane's arm, listening. "This will be the day that I die. This'll be the day that—"

  A bright light poured through the windows on the wall the loveseat's on, several engines whirring as they circled and landed outside Melina's home. Startled, Irina jumped and snapped her head to the blinding lights, squinting. She's pulled up from the floor as Alexei got up —facing the windows— and came closer to her and Yelena before he stopped a few feet away.

  "Get down, girls," he instructed, and put his helmet on.

  "Yelena .  .  ."

"Get behind me," the Widow cut, using the hand that's wrapped around the dark-haired woman's elbow to bring Irina between herself and the bedside-table.

Irina went to the floor, following Alexei's instructions, as did Yelena. She took some comfort in Yelena being beside her.

She ducked as a dart flew through the window, breaking some of the glass, and shot Alexei in the chest. He scoffed and pulled the dart out, "They think—"

Another dart came through and stuck him in the chest area, followed by several more. Irina ducked again, this time into Yelena as the Widow placed an arm over Irene. In seconds, Alexei fell backwards to the floor, sedated by the tranq-darts.

Yelena's arm slipped some from around Irina, her hand now on the younger woman's back as she leaned forward and grabbed Alexei's hand before she shook her head. She met Irene's panicked gaze and whispered almost inaudibly, "Stay close."

  Irina immediately nodded and stood with Yelena as the Widow drew her pistol. She quietly stepped to open the thin cloudy door then stepped back once it's opened, and rounded the corner after a second, aiming her pistol around. Irina followed, stepping quietly. She desperately wished she had some kind of weapon, anything. A frying pan would even work; she's seen the movie Tangled, and that thing messed up plenty of people.