Manipulative Attraction

47. ⚛️ To The Rescue

The three black SUV's parked three blocks away from the derelict plant located just outside the city limits. Fifteen men, armed with the best weaponry the Istochnik offered, emerged from the vehicles and melted into the darkness of the night.

"What was the purpose of the video H778? You know I've fallen for Jeannie Jones. That hasn't changed. Right now, she is being held by her godfather Demetri Petrov, and I need—"

"Right now, H778 said, interrupting Thorne mid-sentence, "you need to listen. I'll not have Demetri doing to you what he did to Jeannie's mother."

"Why do you care?" Thorne asked brushing aside his niggling feeling. He had to rescue Jeannie. Anything beyond that was a distant blip on the radar. "Demetri won't live long after Jeannie is safe."

H778 breathed a sigh of relief into the speaker. "That's what I was hoping for 59638." She paused for a second and then continued, "Darkness has fallen. It is time to take Drake's team to Demetri's location. They have the coordinates and are awaiting your instructions."

Ivan Egorov hated working for Demetri. The man did not pay well, and he always regulated Ivan to outside duty.

Tonight, isn't so bad, Ivan thought. There was a nice moon out and the breeze, although chilly, reminded him of his hometown of Novosibirsk.

The air, circulating through the rundown manufacturing plant brought back fond memories of Ivan's late father's garage where he and Ivan had fixed hundreds of cars.

Now, his papa's garage was just like the building he was helping to guard—nothing more than a skeleton of its former glory. His papa was dead along with his mother and he had been destitute. True, Demetri had plucked him from the streets, but he had more than repaid him. After this last job, he was moving on.

Ivan crushed the last Sobranie cigarette he'd stolen from Demetri's private stash with the toe of his boot. He wasn't averse to thieving from the Ice Prince Demetri from time to time. It kept things interesting. As a matter of fact, Demetri would probably—"

He didn't need to see it. He could feel the serrated blade pressing against his throat. One wrong move and his blood would splatter on the cracked concrete.

"How many inside?"

His attacker's voice sounded like boulders knocking against each other as they tumbled down a cliff.

"Comrade, please. I will tell you all you want to know. There is no need for violence."

The knife pressed into his flesh. Ivan felt a warm, wet trickle run down his neck. "We are not 'comrades.'"

Ivan's sharp-witted mind searched for an out to his situation. Did they want Demetri? Well, he would happily lead them to him. He would even help them do their worst to those who resisted the takeover.

Those diehards, Anatoly, Svetlana and maybe one or two others wouldn't go down without a fight. The rest would be happy to see Demetri hang.

In one form or another, the Ice Prince had cheated, tricked or coerced his teammates into doing his bidding. With the salary being substandard, the loyalty the team felt towards Demetri was nil.

"We may not be comrades now, but if I lead you inside, we could become them, no?"

The silence stretched on for what seemed like hours, but in reality, it was less than a minute. In that time, with his life hanging in the balance, Ivan had already sweat through his thin cotton jacket. He let out a sigh of relief at his attacker's next words.

"Okay, comrade. Lead us to your former master."

Ivan went ahead, scouting out each room. He helped to minimize casualties by luring Demetri's guards to drop their defenses by pretending to bum a cigarette.

When the unsuspecting guard fumbled in their pockets for a lighter, the intruders, covered from head to toe in black jumpsuits and thin balaclavas, jumped them from behind, knocking out the guard with a powerful sleep agent injected into their skin. The zip-tied the hands of Demetri's guards and placed in a storage room with two burly men standing watch.

In no time, the Men in Black captured the guards without incident. Now came the hard part, rescuing the prisoners.

"Comrade," Ivan said, waving the tall man over. "The next part will be... complicated. You must travel down a narrow corridor, then down a flight of metal stairs and lastly, you will come to the place where Demetri holds the prisoners."

The tall man's green eyes bore into Ivan, and under his intense stare, Ivan quickly averted his gaze to a crack in the wall.

"How many guards are between the prisoners and us?" Green Eyes asked.

"Just two. Svetlana and Anatoly. They will be in the kitchen to the right of the stairs. If we hurry, and are silent, we can surprise them."

Green Eyes nodded. "We will take it from here."

Ivan felt a pinprick in his neck. His mouth grew into an "oh" of surprise.

Ivan swayed on his feet as the sleep agent took hold. He became unconscious before slumping to the floor.

Thorne took off his balaclava and motioned for the eight others to do the same. With Thorne, were Dalton and Quentin. The six others were members of Drake's team.

"Listen up," Thorne whispered as the men came to order, their weapons cocked and ready. "The two guards left are the most dangerous as they're loyal Demetri. One is a woman, the other a man. Underestimate neither of them. They're highly trained agents that will not hesitate to kill on sight."

He let the information sink in. Some men shuffled their feet, eager to start the perilous part of the mission.

The danger didn't worry Thorne. He thought only of Jeannie. What would happen to her when they came down the stairs? Would Demetri cut his losses and run, or would her godfather do the unthinkable and destroy what Thorne held dearest?

Yes, Jeannie was the dearest thing to him. When the film of Valeria had ended, Thorne had shut down, nearly reverting to the shell of a man he was before Jeannie came into his life.

Jeannie Jones was not her mother's daughter. She wasn't a killing machine, but a loving, warm-hearted woman. She was smart, beautiful, and she was his. He would do anything to protect her.

Thorne's team went in single file down the narrow corridor. So far, they hadn't run into any cameras. Who knew what awaited them down the stairs? Someone had to find out, and it was his job to do so.

Thorne halted the men behind him with a fist in the air. He circled it and pointed to the ground, indicating that the others should stay until he gave them the signal. Dalton and Quentin broke ranks pushing past the men in front until they reached Thorne.

"We're going down first." Dalton made as if to move past Thorne, but he grabbed the lanky man's collar and held him back. He wasn't quick enough to grab Quentin. The stocky man slipped past him and was down to the first level before Thorne could do more than blink.

Quentin made the all-clear sign, and ignoring Thorne's glare, made his way to the third riser. Thorne gave the signal to follow. Dalton moved in front of his leader to follow quickly behind Quentin, almost catching up to him before all hell broke loose.

Svetlana and Anatoly appeared in the kitchen's doorway, holding the dinner trays for the prisoners. The steam from the beef stroganoff wafted up to the men, and they gave an appreciative sniff.

Quentin, his gun held out in his hands before him, bounded down the steps. When Anatoly dropped his tray to reach for the weapon in his waistband, Quentin fired.