He didn’t have time to argue about his CPR methods. Now that she was back, all he wanted to do was live. With a low groan, he got to his feet. They needed to get in the water, swim as far as they could. Just a chance. He would carry her as far as he could and then take whatever fate she suffered.
Live or die, he would do it with her.
He hauled her up even as she protested. “Ian, put me down. It hurts.”
Limping, he started for the port side. He would do whatever it took. Getting her out of here was the most important thing in the world. “Can’t, baby. We have to get out of here. Nelson is going to blow the ship.”
She shook her head. “No. Not ours.”
“Maybe he’s lying, but I can’t take the chance.” God, he hoped the bastard was lying because their time had to be up.
“Ian, we’re fine. Watch his boat. Watch his. Got into the water to do it.”
Her words hit him with a flash of hope. His wife was smart and kind of really fucking mean, and it would totally occur to her to hand Nelson back his surprise. He turned to the boat that was speeding away from the yacht. He could have sworn he saw Nelson standing at the bow, watching. He seemed to be holding something in his hand. Nelson waved. The asshole.
And then Nelson’s motherfucking boat exploded.
Ian stood strong as the concussive wave hit the yacht and made it list back and forth. His arms tightened around his wife and despite all the pain, he threw back his head and laughed.
Eli Nelson had just gotten taken down by a girl. A woman. Ian Taggart’s woman. It was surprisingly better than taking the fucker down himself.
The yacht continued to move, and Ian stumbled to the chaise. He laid his wife down, her gorgeous body barely covered. She had a wound on her arm, but it didn’t look serious. Dropping to his knee, he could hear the sound of Nelson’s boat hitting the water again after flying apart through the air. He would bet there were a whole lot of body parts flying around, like the best fireworks ever.
Charlie was still pale, her hand on her chest, rubbing it like it pained her. He hoped he hadn’t broken anything. “So it was a good wedding present? I didn’t get you one the first time.”
She was alive. He breathed her in. She was alive. His wife was still with him, his future right in his arms. “Best present ever.”
He kissed her as the Coast Guard started shouting in Hindi and the world was complete chaos around them.
“Tag?” Knight’s voice came over the line again. “Tag? Do you want to explain what the bloody hell just happened?”
Ian took out the earpiece and tossed it over the side of the boat.
And got back to kissing his wife.
Chapter Twenty
Saint Petersburg, Russia
Two Weeks Later
Ian moved alongside the tourists, blending in as they crowded into the packed Peter and Paul Fortress. It was a rare sunny day in Saint Petersburg, and it looked like the citizens were out in droves. It seemed to him that the minute the sun came out in Russia, all its citizens dropped whatever they were doing and found a patch of grass to lie on.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t be lazy today. Today was the day he gave his wife her life back.
After today, everyone got to go home. Even his brother, who was back in the States at the safe house with his small family and Adam and Jake’s. Avery was staying with them while the rest of the team took care of business. Chelsea had chosen to return to the States with Sean. Damn, but he hoped she was there when he and Charlie got back.
His brother had only punched him once. Sean even waited until after the doctors had pulled the slug out of Ian’s leg to do it. Simon had taken a worse thrashing, but seemed to have given as well as he got. Sean had been pissed as hell that Ian had ordered him out, but they were already back on speaking terms.
All in all, it had been a damn fine op.
He walked through the bricked archway that led to the fortress as the tour guide spoke in her heavily Russian-accented English.
“The Peter and Paul Fortress was built in 1703 by Peter the Great. He feared attacks from Sweden so he decided that this island at the delta of the Neva River would be the best defense. The fortress was founded on May 27th and this is now considered the birthdate of the city of Saint Petersburg. If you will all follow me, we will go to the cathedral.”
That was Ian’s cue to break from the herd.
He walked toward the right hand side of the fortress, cobblestones at his feet. Damn cobblestones were all over the city. He had no idea how a person was supposed to run on the things. At times like this he was happy to be an American where the streets were usually even. If he had to run down his prey here, he might break a leg.
And since his thigh still ached from the bullet he’d taken, he wanted to avoid it if he could. He wanted his prey nice and contained.
Above his head the sky was a brilliant blue with puffy white clouds. To his right, the Peter and Paul Cathedral rose from the cobblestoned ground around it, an angel and a gold cross at the very top of its spire.
To his left was his destination, though not the final one. A building made of light-brown, almost gold-colored bricks housed the still-working mint. Dusan Denisovitch stood outside wearing very Western looking jeans, a T-shirt, and Ray Bans. It was fitting he’d chosen the mint as their meet-up spot since Ian was about to make the young man a whole lot of money.
Or he was about to get murdered in front of a bunch of tourists. It was a risk Ian was willing to take because he wanted it all. He wanted his wife and his family. He wanted a home.
“Dobroye utro, Mr. Taggart.” Dusan said good morning with an almost formal tip of his head. The man was roughly Charlie’s age. He pegged him at thirty or so. A ripe age to want to move ahead in the world.
“Zdravstvujtye.” A simple hello, or as simple as Russian ever got.
Dusan smiled. “Your accent is good.”
He shrugged, taking in the four men surrounding Dusan. The young man’s muscle was out in force. At least Ian knew Charlie’s cousin was taking the meeting seriously. Or he was about to get jumped. His wife kept chiding him for his wretched pessimism, but until he actually pulled this off, he would just wait to see if someone was going to pull a gun.
“He’s already in the cathedral,” said a voice in his ear.
Luckily, Ian had backup of his own. Alex was in position outside the cathedral watching their prey. He’d spotted Liam as they’d walked in, ready to come to his aid should the second in command of the Denisovitch syndicate become unruly.