The vicious thrill of violent anger sang in Wynn’s blood, but it wasn’t enough. His ferocity demanded consumption in full. He turned on Sergey.
“Is that how you remaining Russians fight? No wonder all the intelligent ones fled your pathetic existence.”
Sergey withdrew a revolver from his jacket and yanked Svetlana closer to his side. He caressed the gun barrel down the side of her cheek, mussing the veil covering her face.
His wife’s whimpers of panic cut sharper than any finely wrought blade. Blood thundered into Wynn’s curling fists. “Let her go.”
“I never wished it to come to this.” Sergey stroked Svetlana’s cheek with the gun barrel. “I’m sorry, kroshka, but your execution will save my family. It will be a noble death.”
Svetlana jerked away from the deadly caress. Fury snapped in her eyes. “Be a man and end it here and now. I’ll never go back to Russia!”
Rage boiled in Wynn’s blood, spilling into his veins as he stalked toward his prey. “Let her go now or I swear I’ll kill you myself before you step foot on that train.”
“Sadly, you’ll never have the opportunity.” The gun flashed up and pointed directly at Wynn’s heart.
With a cry of alarm, Svetlana threw her arm up and smacked into Sergey’s hand. The gun tumbled and skittered under a pile of broken trolleys. Knocking Svetlana aside, Sergey scrambled after the gun, but Wynn lunged and caught him around the middle, throwing him to the ground. They grappled across the filthy floor grunting and swinging limbs.
Sergey writhed like a snake as he jabbed Wynn in his ribs. Wynn used blunt strength fueled by murderous rage to pummel the weasel into a sniveling mess. Svetlana’s screams, screeching wheels, and train whistles withered under the numbing instinct to kill. An instinct born into man and honed into a soldier to destroy any threat with primal viciousness. The battle peace, the Tommies called it. When the world fell away and calmness descended, allowing a man to do what must be done. Wynn no longer saw the bloodied face and black eyes of his enemy but Svetlana’s terrified face, her cries of heartbreak, her feet dancing in the moonlight, her peaceful face as she slept next to him. He fought for her.
“Wynn!” And just like that, her cry pierced the blackening numbness, pulling him back before the last vestiges of his humanity disappeared over the edge.
Clutching Sergey by the lapels, Wynn rocked back on his heels as the rage in his blood hissed its restrained vehemence.
“You will hang for your crimes of conspiracy to kidnap and murder. I will personally wait until your legs stop twitching on that rope before I pronounce you dead, then have your worthless carcass carted off and tossed into a nameless cesspit.”
Sergey grimaced, revealing the blood staining the crevices between his teeth. “I’d l-like to see you t-try.”
The train behind them slumped forward, digging its wheels for traction against the steel rails. A long belch of black smoke erupted from its chimney stack. A beastly thing, it howled forward, tugging the cargo compartments behind it into motion.
Wynn stood and jerked Sergey to his feet. Sergey ducked his head and bit down hard on Wynn’s hand. On instinct, Wynn released his grip and Sergey jumped out of reach.
He backed slowly toward the moving train, eyes darting for an open side door to lunge into. “I’ll return for you. My family is worth more than you ever could be—”
A ball of black hurled into Sergey. He flew backward off the platform and disappeared onto the train tracks below. A scream tore, then a sickening thud. The train wheels picked up speed. Thump. Thump. Thump. The train pulled the last of its beastly bulk from the platform and the thumps silenced.
Ana, deathly regal in her travel suit of black and gray, stood calmly at the edge of the platform staring down at the track. Ever so slowly, she turned and clasped her hands calmly in front of her.
“He will not be returning.” Her gaze settled on Svetlana. “You are safe now, Svetka.”
Whistles, shouts, and pounding boots shattered the eerie stillness as the police came running. Leonid, gripping his bandaged arm, pushed his way to the front of the group.
“What is happened here?” He peered over the edge of the platform and stumbled back, crossing himself. “Holy Father of Heaven. Preserve us from evil.”
“He jumped.” Coming to her feet, Svetlana walked over to stand next to Wynn. She took his hand and pressed her shoulder to his, blocking her mother from view. “There was no place for him to go and he jumped.”
Wynn threaded his fingers through hers and nodded. “He jumped.”
Leonid considered them both for a long minute before finally adding his nod to the conclusion. “He jumped.”
Like locusts, the police swarmed the area until their droning rose above the chugging trains on the upper level. The rat-faced accomplice was hauled from the pile of boxes where he’d been struggling back to consciousness and handcuffed between two burly sergeants.
“Looks like we’ll be having a prime witness, lads,” the chief officer said as the rat was taken away. “A good ol’ fashioned interrogation ought to bring us a few more names to round up as we’ll be having no red commies here. Your Grace, sorry to be pestering you after a trying day, but we’ll be needing you to come down to the station for a few questions. Formality and all.”
“I’ll see the ladies to the hotel first, then happily answer all questions.” Propriety or not, Wynn slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. No chance on earth was he leaving her side anytime soon. Given their history, she might order him to, but he was of a mind not to listen.
“Right. We’ll be seeing you there.” The officer touched the brim of his hat in respect to Svetlana. “Ma’am.”
The police milled all about Wynn and Svetlana, like rushing waves around an island. Her head was tilted down, the veil muting her features, but Wynn knew if he were to lift it he would see heartbreak and sadness.
“Are you all right, Svetlana?”
She turned into him and bent her forehead to touch his shoulder. “I thought you were to call me Lana.”
Her voice was soft and fragile, like petals bruised on the ground after a bitter storm. One billow of wind more and they would crumble to fine dust, but even crushed petals linger with sweetness for he could describe her words as nothing but that. They wrapped around his soul as an intoxicating balm he wished to drown in. “Do you wish me to call you Lana?”
“Yes.”
A single word, but, oh, the hard-fought victory in it. Wynn dropped his mouth close to her ear. “Then, are you all right, my Lana?”
Her face tilted so that her mouth hovered enticingly close to his. “I am now.”
More than anything he wanted to kiss her and wash away everything that had driven them apart, but this was not the place. Not surrounded by barking policemen, morbid onlookers, and the stench of grease and smoke. Later, when death did not hover so close in memory.
Raising her gloved hand to his lips, he settled for brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “I’ll take you to the hotel.”
Svetlana pulled herself from Wynn’s arms and walked over to put an arm around her mother. “Come along, Mama. We’re free to go now.”
Ana’s shaking hand reached up to clasp the gold cross suspended about her neck as Svetlana escorted her toward the stairs. Gone was the avenging angel, returned once more into the aging princess who leaned into her daughter for support with a closeness never before encouraged.