Selene tuned them all out for a moment. She had an idea, a messy, uneven prism of a thing that wasn’t pretty or elegant. But it might work. It might mean they could walk in and see what shape her boys were in before either shit flowed or bullets flew.
“What do these guys know about what happened in Pennsylvania?” Selene asked.
Everyone looked at her.
“Why do you ask?” Owen was studying her.
“I have an idea.”
Selene took a breath and started talking.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Someone’s coming,” Luca whispered to him. Oscar didn’t say anything in reply, mostly because he couldn’t thanks to the half a roll of duct tape wrapped around his fucking head.
“Not more of the crew. Someone new. They sound worried. They’re using some slang I don’t know and—”
Luca stopped talking abruptly, and a second later, the sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of their kidnappers. The group had swelled from four to six people, and one of the two newcomers was clearly the boss. He couldn’t understand what anyone was saying, but he heard the boss called Andrej.
Andrej dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. The fact that the dude was smoking while wearing a tracksuit with a gun tucked in the back, and was basically a walking, talking Eastern European stereotype, was seriously pissing Oscar off.
Being pissed was a lot easier than being scared.
Though Andrej looked less intimidating than the others, who were in what looked like all-black military fatigues, it was obvious he was the leader. And right now, he was barking orders.
With the bad guys in the room, Luca couldn’t translate for him, so Oscar had to try to read everyone’s body language. Whatever was about to happen was bad. Really, really bad, based on the way Luca had stiffened. Oscar grunted—the only noise he could make—to remind Luca that he had to act like he couldn’t understand when they spoke Serbian.
Luca turned his head, his eyes wide.
What the fuck was that expression supposed to mean? Dammit. Oscar had no fucking idea.
Andrej continued giving orders, and two of the five men ran out, one returning rather quickly with a chair, setting it down. Andrej took a seat and crossed his legs, ankle on knee. Then he seemed to change his mind and sat up straight, taking a fresh cigarette from his pocket and sticking it in his mouth. The other men arranged themselves, one just behind Andrej’s chair, the others near the windows.
Andrej adjusted his position again. What the actual fuck was going on?
The sound of footsteps grew louder, and Oscar frowned. At least one of the people coming in was wearing high heels.
One of the two guards who’d left entered again, holding aside the plastic.
A mountain of a man stepped through—6’5” with a shaved head, medium-tone skin, and wearing a belt with a gun and knife, one on each hip.
Oscar froze because he knew the man. It was Ridley. One of the MPF. Was one of the task force members a traitor? Working with these guys, the Bellator Dei, or both?
That would explain how the mercenaries had found them.
Ridley moved to the side and a woman stepped through.
Dark hair fell in a perfect curtain around her lovely face. She wore a blood-red dress, a white fur stole, and black fuck-me heels.
Selene.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
More men came in behind her—Owen, Vadisk, Rodrigo. They arranged themselves around the room, each one armed to the teeth.
Another Serbian man brought up the rear, and Vadisk bared his teeth at the man as he skirted around from behind them to join his compatriots.
“Am I hallucinating?” Luca breathed.
Oscar made a noise and shook his head.
“Any idea what she’s doing?” Luca asked again, his lips barely moving, though no one was looking at them.
Selene surveyed the room, chin held high.
It was a really good supervillain look.
Oscar swallowed the hysterical urge to start laughing and was now glad for the presence of the duct tape.
“Do you speak English?” Selene demanded.
“Yes.” Andrej lit his cigarette. “Do you speak Serbian?”
“There is literally no reason I would bother to do that.”
Andrej bared his teeth. “I’d watch your mouth, pretty lady.”
Selene made a face like she’d just watched a dog eat its own poop. “First of all, secondhand smoke kills. Put it out.”
Andrej took a deep breath and blew it at her.
Selene tapped Owen on the shoulder. “Shoot him.”
Owen hesitated for half a second before raising his gun, and Oscar saw his gaze slide toward her, knew the moment Owen realized this plan was probably