Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

I take out the car, come back and pick me up; if not, get clear.' He tapped Eddie on the shoulder. 'Here. Pull over right here.'
    Eddie shot a quick questioning glance over his shoulder at Nikitin, but he was already stomping on the brakes. Ilya bailed out of the car almost before it stopped moving. It was ironic that he was saving the life of the man he knew he would eventually have to kill. Nikitin had no compunction about killing his enemies, and there would be no quitting undercover work until he was dead. At the same time, Ilya wasn't going to allow Dylan to take over the trafficking network. He knew eventually someone would step in and fill the void once he'd taken down Nikitin, but he hoped to slow things down for a long while.

    He shoved a clip into his gun, checked his other and waited. He found a spot on higher ground where he had a clear view of the driver's side of the vehicle. He'd have to take him out first. That was imperative. With the driver dead, the car would be a hazard. The others would have to bail or ride it out and try to survive a crash into the river.
    Above the roar of the water, he could hear the powerful engine as the car rounded the bend and accelerated. The driver held it steady in his lane, making the target easier than anticipated. Their attention was on the road, trying to find Nikitin's car. Windows were rolled down, arms and heads hanging out. Ilya concentrated on one target. He steadied his arm and took the shot, drilling the driver through his left eye.
    The windshield fragmented, and the car slewed back and forth; then as someone tried to grab the wheel, it abruptly turned, spun and slid into the rapid current of the river. The car tipped forward, drawn into the powerful current. Water poured into the windows. Ilya heard a shout. Someone fired a wild shot. The car began to be dragged downstream, still sinking.
    Ilya made his way down the slippery slope and walked along the embankment. A head popped up, and without hesitation he took the shot. If any of these men lived, and they knew about Brian, the guitarist was dead. He kept his eyes on the body. It was torn loose from the car and carried away, the water rolling over and over the limp form.
    A second man emerged, coming up out of the water like a geyser, spewing bullets, aiming wildly, spraying the shore even as he fought to stay afloat. Dirt flew into the air all around Ilya's feet, splattering his jeans as the bullets came close.
    Ilya shot the man twice, a quick one-two as the river swept the bobbing head away. The bodyguard was certain he'd killed the shooter, but he raced along the bank to make sure. The body turned facedown, tumbled and churned, a red stain spreading, and then it was pulled under.
    Ilya waited, watching the surface of the water. No one could hold his breath that long, but if it had been Ilya, he would have gone out through an open window and swum downstream, letting the current carry him before sticking his head up and chancing it getting blown off. He began to jog along the river-bank heading downstream, reloading as he went and watching both sides of the bank as well as rocks the fourth man might be able to cling to.
    Movement caught his attention. At once he dropped to the ground. Bullets spat around him, one actually going through the sleeve of his jacket. He felt the kiss, the heat, and then he rolled, stretching out in a two-handed grip to steady his shot as he fired back. The gun bucked in his hand, feeling familiar, part of him, his aim natural. Where he looked he shot, and the bullet traveled true, striking his target.
    He watched the man fall back into the river. He knew his opponent was dead; he knew exactly where the bullet had hit. He turned and began to jog toward the freeway exit. Within minutes, he saw the car driving in reverse back toward him.
    Nikitin grinned at him as he slid into the car. 'Well done.'
    'Get us out of here, Eddie,' Ilya said. 'We have to clean this mess up. You rented that house, Sergei, and your prints are everywhere. I did my best to get rid of Brian's, but I had no way of knowing everything he touched.'
    'He'd only been there a few minutes when the strobe went off.' Nikitin took his hand off Brian and allowed him to sit up. 'If you wiped the glass and the couch, we should be good.'
    Brian pressed an unsteady hand to his mouth. 'No one knew I was going there. I had the taxi let me off several blocks away.'
    'Good, that's good, Brian,' Ilya said, praising him to