Dinara
-Where am I?-
Feeling like her head was splitting in two, she groaned. She tried to shift to lessen the ache. It was no use. Everywhere hurt. Especially her shoulder.
-Think!-
She couldn't. Her mind was blank. So blanked.
Something was telling her, that this was bad. Wherever she was. It was bad. She had to go back to her family. Who were her family?
Her blue-violet eyes opened and her lips twisted. Glancing around, she tried to remember where she was.
This was some kind of a warehouse. She was on a small cot, IV inserted in the back of her left hand and she was in a Mickey Mouse shirt with bandages underneath. The room she was in was small and poorly lit.
She was a captive. Someone took her from her family. Again, who was her family?
Fear made her hyperventilate.
-I don't remember anything.-
***
It was evening when she came to. Her room was very dark, only a reflection of lights from the street can be seen from a small window.
No one came to her. No one offered food or water.
On wobbly legs, she tried to get up. She was able to. It was a small victory.
More alert, she glanced at the window once more. Presumably, she was kidnapped, there was only one sensible thing to do. Escape.
Go to the nearest police station and report herself missing. She snorted. She was one piece of work. Maman had always told her so.
She was jolted from her musings. Who was maman?
It was really frustrating her to no end. She would make sure to try harder later after she escaped this place.
***
She was being followed. Men. Two of them.
She didn't know she had skills, she was able to grab a gun from one of the guards and shot some of the men guarding the perimeters of the warehouse and she did it without batting an eyelash despite her injuries.
How to get rid of her tail? She was still hugging the shadows of the dockside, trying to look for the best place to hide.
She scanned her surroundings. Maria. That was the name written on a cargo vessel docked half a mile away. Okay. Think, girl! What else did maman teach you? Whoever she was, she had taught her a lot. Maybe she also knew how to swim.
Let's put that to the test.
"Hey, stop!" She didn't need to look back to check if those men were her captors.
Without the slightest hesitation, she jumped into the frigid waters. It was clumsy and her body went deep. She peddled her legs and arms weakly, spreading back and forth under the water, bringing her back to the surface.
I can swim. But her injured shoulder would not be able to hold on for too long. Shit!
Then gunshots thundered in the distance.
Holy shit!
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Dominic
Beau gave them the exact location of where the enemies were keeping Dinara.
It was a delipidated warehouse southwest of San Francisco Bay's western edge, near the Golden Gate Bridge. A lot of legal and illegal activities circulated in the area.
His shipping line was among the bloodline of the docks and he was quite familiar with the place.
With night vision goggles, they slowly approach the building.
"Everyone in place?"
"Yes, tzar."
"Good." He raised his hand to signal his men. At the count of three.
3 2 1...
The largest of his men kicked the door open and in a practiced coordinated movement they had their guns pointed at the men inside the warehouse.
"Drop your fucking weapons now!" Dominic growled. When one man hesitated, he unceremoniously shot him between his eyes. Dead in a heartbeat, he fell to the ground. "I won't tell you again."
He had his sights pinned to a familiar trembling man before him. Jordan.
"Tzar, Samuel made me do it."
"Samuel is dead. I skinned him alive. Exactly what I am going to do to you. Where is my sister?" His deep gravelly voice was harsh and promising death.
"She...she is not here." He continued to back away from Dominic.
"Search the area, Alec. Jordan and I will talk."
"No!" He began to cry and tried to run away from Dominic. One of the men effortlessly caught him and brought him back." "Tzar, I'm telling you the truth, she's not here."
The mafia tzar prowled towards him, his favorite knife glinting. "Spread his hands on the table."
"No!" Thrashing has done him nothing, the men tightened their hold.
With a weapon so thin and sharp, it was so easy to cut his thumb and pointy finger. He screamed from the intense pain. "Where is my sister?"
When no answer came, Dominic cut his middle and ring finger, the severed digits falling on the floor. "Nothing? You are tougher than Samuel. Remove his pants."
"No...please...she escaped. Two of my men are following her. Please." Fuck!
This was a fucking waste of time. His sister was out there.
"Kill everyone. Bring Jordan to the prison. I'm not done with him. Alec, let's go."
Where are you Dinara?
***
Dominic had always known his sister was tougher than she looked.
The men she shot point-blank at the alley behind the warehouse were proof of that. They had taught her well. Especially maman.
She was kept in a shed behind the building and she had escaped through the small window. -Good girl.-
But where could she be? He hoped she was on her way home. Beau and his mother would be happy to see her.
Hoped bloomed in his chest. Nevertheless, they kept searching for the whole area. He had to be sure she was no longer here.
After hours and hours of turning every stone and knocking on every door, still no signs of Dinara.
"She might be on her way home," Alec muttered. Breathing in and out from exhaustion.
He nodded. Agreeing. Though something was telling him otherwise.
"Assign men on every street from here to leading home. Send her picture to their phones."
"Yes, tzar." His general immediately began to make some phone calls while Dominic pressed his Bluetooth device hearing the incoming beep.
"Detka,"
"Dominic, we found Antoine Lemonte." She announced breathlessly. It was so fucking good to hear her voice, even better with positive news.
"We are on our way home." He signaled Alec.
"Where is Dinara?"
"I'll tell you everything on my way home, baby."
"You haven't found her." There was no recrimination lacing her voice, only sadness.
"Yes." He admitted through gritted teeth.
"I will help you find her, my love. I promise."
"I know."
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Unknown
Dios Mio! It's a body floating above the waters. Easily seen below the deck.
Without second thoughts, he dove and swam towards the small form. He might be aging but he was a strong swimmer. He could still rock his wife's world in bed.
Reaching the body, he gently cradled the dead weight in his arms and slowly swam back towards his ship. His men were waiting to help him and his slender cargo back to the deck.
Once safely aboard, he felt for a pulse. It's there but very faint. And he could see bandages peeking under the black shirt.
"Call my wife. She will know what to do." Glad he always brought his wife with him in every shipment transaction for the El Patrón.
His beautiful esposa was running towards them in her customary black boots and jeans and off-the-shoulder cotton blouse. She looked more like a rancher's wife than a ship's captain.
"Que pasa?" (What happened?)
"Let's check this poor soul in our spare cabin. Come on." He replied in their native tongue.
One of his men volunteered to carry the still unconscious body. His wife shooed them out as soon as they reach the room.
He will have a few minutes to take a warm bath and change his clothes.
He wondered what kind of trouble he had gotten himself into.
***
"Do you think we need to report this to the police?" He asked his wife. They both looked at the sleeping form comfortably dressed in warm clothes. What happened to this young one? Why a lot of injuries? Who would want to hurt an angelic and innocent face?
"No. Based on the bullet wound on her shoulder and the nasty bump on her head, this poor baby is in trouble. And someone might want to finish the job. I suggest we take her home until she recovers." He could see it now. His wife was already attached to the young lady.
"But...what about El Patrón? He doesn't like strangers."
"It's okay. I will tell him she is our niece." She gazed down at the sleeping girl fondly.
"Do you think he will believe us?"
"Don't worry, mi amor. I'll take care of it." It was useless arguing with his esposa. He just nodded and resigned himself to the inevitable.
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