Betrayed (Undercover #3) by Helena Newbury Page A

my chest went cold. We’d left the handcuffs on the bed.
    Olaf stepped close to me and stroked my cheek. “You must have enjoyed being tied up in the warehouse. Were you sorry when you were rescued?”
    I glared at him. I wanted to scream at him, tell him how he couldn’t be more wrong. How Luka was the polar opposite of him and his men.
    “Don’t worry,” said Olaf. “When we’re done with these two, I know just where I’m going to take you. You’ve been there before, when your boyfriend beat up my son. You’ll be a very popular attraction.”
    I spat right in his face. He stepped back, staring at me in disbelief. Then there was a flash of chrome and my head snapped back. It felt as if I’d been hit by a truck. I staggered sideways into one of the gunmen, tasting blood. I groggily realized I’d just been smacked across the face with a gun. But it had been worth it, just to break the arrogant bastard’s cool.
    And it had an unexpected bonus. With everyone looking at me, Luka had a second to launch himself at Olaf, knocking him to the floor. Yuri knocked the heads of two of the thugs together and they crumpled to the floor. That only left the one I’d stumbled into, and he was still off balance. Vasiliy kicked out his legs and sent him crashing down.
    We were free—but in a few seconds, they’d all get to their feet and we’d be dead. And we were still trapped—God knows how many armed men were downstairs.
    “My room,” snapped Vasiliy as Yuri hauled him to his feet. “Quick!”
    Luka punched Olaf once in the face. He looked as if he’d gladly carry on all through the night, but he obeyed his dad and grabbed my hand, picking up one of the gunmen’s handguns at the same time. The four of us staggered out of the room and across the landing, then through another bedroom door. As soon as we were inside, Vasiliy threw himself against the door, slamming it shut and sliding thick bolts across. A half-second later, the first of the gunmen slammed his fist against the other side.
    My eyes scanned the room. There was one door, half-open, leading to a bathroom and no other way out. Why had Vasiliy brought us in here? To buy time? The men outside pounded and kicked at the door. They’d be through in seconds.
    Vasiliy clutched at his chest, the red stain on his shirt spreading rapidly. He nodded Luka towards the ornate, cast-iron fireplace. Luka crouched, gripped both edges of it...and hauled the entire thing away from the wall.
    It hadn’t been fixed there, just rested there under its enormous weight. Behind it was an opening to the chimney...and the rungs of a ladder.
    I looked at Vasiliy.
    “Is not first time people try to kill me at home,” he said in English, the pain making him pant it out. He waved Yuri to the ladder and the bodyguard started to descend. Then Vasiliy himself. He touched his bloody chest by way of explanation. “If I fall, I won’t take you with me.”
    I went next, followed by Luka. The rungs were iron, bolted into the wall and coated with a thick layer of dust. Far below, I could hear water.
    We climbed quickly but as quietly as we could. We knew there were still gunmen waiting downstairs and, if they heard some noise from behind the walls, they’d know where we were. But there were also the men trying to break into Vasiliy’s room, above us. All they had to do was reach the fireplace and fire down into the hole—we’d be fish in a barrel.
    At last, I reached the bottom and splashed down into freezing, knee-deep water. We were in a tunnel with a curving roof, scarcely big enough for me to stand up in. The men had to crouch-walk. “Is old sewer,” said Luka in my ear. “Don’t worry—not used anymore.”
    We could hear voices above us—were they into Vasiliy’s room? We stumbled down the sewer towards blinding whiteness….
    ...and emerged into crisp daylight. The snow had stopped and we were crunching our way out of a small opening set into a muddy bank by the side of the