“But then I decided that maybe a police station is not the best place to commit murder. Besides, I think making Gregor watch you die would be much better theater.”
“They’re asking about Jonas,” she said in a surprisingly even voice.
“Of course they are.” Piotr scratched under his chin. “That murder was supposed to distract them from the one you committed, remember?”
Lori leaned forward, scowling in the direction of the red eye. “It’s not my fault Jill got involved and complicated things.”
“See, but I think it is.” The chair creaked as Piotr adjusted his posture. “From what little I have seen? She has intervened so often that it would be prudent to assume her interference when planning anything.”
“You’re supposed to kill her, you know.”
Piotr shrugged, not that the woman sitting across from him could see it. He studied her for a moment, the infrared outline of her frame practically glowing. Were circumstances different, Piotr could see himself making a pass at her. But she had the stink of David Gregor all over her, and the sooner he separated himself from that man, the better.
“It seems I have had a change in priorities.” Piotr smiled, giving Lori a wink as he leaned back in his own chair. “I hear you tried to take care of that in my stead. Best leave that sort of thing to the professionals, love.”
Lori rolled her eyes again. “Gregor’s a problem for you now, you know.”
“I could snap him in two with little more than a flick of my wrist,” Piotr said, and somehow it didn’t sound like a brag. “Perhaps I will show you someday.”
A knowing smile crept onto Lori’s face. She assumed Piotr couldn’t see it, but as he boasted about being able to kill Gregor as if it was nothing, her mind flashed back to the files he had directed her toward, the ones that outlined the true purpose behind his overseas trip. Clearly, Piotr had not discovered that information.
“What’s the matter?” Lori teased. “The money not good enough anymore?”
Even if Gregor’s payments came to an end, Piotr was set for life. If nothing else, his homeland made sure he never went without. Mother Russia asked a lot of Piotr, but in return, she had treated him like a king. Piotr could live well into his elder years and not once hurt for anything.
But seeing Jill with his own two eyes had affected Piotr in a way he hadn’t expected. To know, beyond a doubt, that he wasn’t alone—that someone else had survived Project Fusion—had filled Piotr with unexpected hope. Not hope that he and Jill could ever team up in any way; she would likely never trust him enough for that. But if there were two of them, maybe they were more. Maybe the research Piotr had read wasn’t so far-fetched after all.
Maybe there was purpose beyond duty to country.
“Perhaps I am simply finished doing the bidding of others.” Piotr stood and came around to the other side of the table, grabbing Lori by the neck and lifting her out of her chair. “Perhaps I am ready to do something for myself for once.”
Lori opened her mouth to scream, but Piotr pressed his fingers against her throat to cut off her voice. Still, the commotion had drawn attention. Muffled shouts and banging on the door interrupted the moment, and Piotr responded by gritting his teeth and tightening his grip.
A gunshot rang out, and the door swung open.
“Put the woman down!”
“Drop her!”
Without even looking, Piotr could tell there were two guns trained on him. If the cops shot, they wouldn’t kill him, but he didn’t care to find out exactly how much damage they could do. Indestructible skeleton aside, Piotr was far from bulletproof. Still, he wasn’t about to just... listen.
“I said, drop her!”
“I heard you the first time, Detective.” Piotr glanced over his shoulder, smirking at the sight of the cop with the mustache cradling his gun in both hands. But the other cop was of far greater interest to him. So Piotr, suddenly bored with the whole thing, tossed Lori to the ground. Ignoring her pained coughs, Piotr approached with his hands up, cocking a sideways grin when he approached Ramon.
“I know you.” The smile grew as he watched a handful of uniformed officers join the detectives. “You have been following Jill.”
Ramon shoved the barrel of his Sig Sauer into Piotr’s chest, his grip tight and his arm steady. Though his nerves were screaming and he could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his brow, Ramon stood his ground. He even straightened his posture a little. “You keep her name out of your mouth.”
With a swipe of his left arm, Piotr grabbed the gun out of Ramon’s hand, pushing the young detective back against the wall before pointing the weapon at Detective Stevens. The officers opened fire, but Piotr was so swift, so graceful, that each bullet dug itself into the wall behind him.
Piotr cocked a brow when Stevens’ eyes went wide. His thumb rested on the safety and he locked eyes with the detective, practically daring him to make a move.
To his disappointment, Stevens lowered his weapon.
“How much trouble would you be in, Detective, if I pulled this trigger?” Piotr chuckled and removed the clip before dropping both it and the weapon at his feet. He turned his attention back to Ramon, who was sitting on the floor rubbing his shoulder.
“What do you want?” Ramon asked.
“You are going to give Jill a message for me.” Piotr’s smile disappeared. “You will tell her that I was not lying when I said she and I want the same thing. But if she gets in my way, I will have to deal with her.”
Stevens sucked in a breath. “And what makes you think you’ll walk outta here?”
Piotr closed the distance before Stevens could react, disarming him before bending the detective’s right arm behind his back. Stevens yelped in pain as his wrist was on the verge of breaking, and Piotr grabbed his neck with his other hand.
“Either I walk out of here,” Piotr growled, eyes fixated on the uniforms still aiming at him and enjoying the fact that they were all shaking, “or you spend the next few weeks with your arm in a sling.”
Then, without waiting for either detective to respond, Piotr released his grip and disappeared around the corner. The uniforms shouted in unison before following, holstering their weapons and calling for backup. Their voices echoed in a nearby stairwell as the heavy door slammed against the cinder block wall, their footfalls more reminiscent of a herd of stampeding elephants.
A gunshot rang out before the stampede continued. More uniformed officers joined the chase, a stream of navy blue pouring into the stairwell. They wouldn’t catch Piotr, and even if they did, would strength in numbers be enough?
After gathering his footing, Stevens hoisted his gun again—but Piotr was nowhere to be found. “Shit,” he grumbled, holstering his weapon before turning back into the interrogation room and raking a hand over his face.
Ramon was helping Lori get back to her feet, leading her to the chair she had just spent the last couple hours in. The two detectives locked eyes for a moment, before Ramon shook his head and turned to glance at a random spot on the floor.
“So,” Stevens said, shaking his head, “what now?”
CHAPTER 31
“Were you followed?”
Stanley Erikson emerged from the shadows, black and orange ball cap pulled down low over his face. He cringed at the sirens whining in the distance, his shoulders hunched. He glanced in every direction his eyes could see, scratching at an imaginary itch under his chin. Paranoia was not his idea of a good time, but when it came to stories like this, it appeared to be the standard.
Finally, he expelled a breath and shook his head. “No. You?”
“Bit hit-or-miss getting out of City Hall undetected,” Jill said with a shrug. “But I managed.”
“I think my office is being bugged,” Erikson admitted, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Yesterday, I explained the story I’m working on to my editor. Other than you, he’s the only person I’ve told. Last night, I find a note on my windshield: Back off or else.”
<
br /> “Well, this is deep shit.”
Erikson pursed his lips. “So you’ve seen what’s on the flash drive.”
“Some of it.” Jill shook her head, leaning back against a brick wall. They were only two blocks from her former place of employment. The Seventh Precinct was just a quick stroll away, and sometimes, Jill thought she could still feel the badge and service piece on her hip. But she didn’t even have her trusty sword these days. “If my hunch is right, you’re in danger.”
“So you think I should stop.”
“I didn’t say that.” Jill cocked her head to the side. She was so used to having long hair that it was weird to not have to brush it out of her face. “I just want you to know what could happen.”
“I’m aware.” Erikson chuckled. “I’ve read enough thrillers in my day to know poking the shady billionaire isn’t necessarily the greatest thing for my health.”
“As long as we’re on the same page.” Jill glanced over her shoulder this time. “What do you know about Dr. Lo?”
“Not much.” Erikson huffed a sigh. “He was an Army doc for several years before he got kicked out for bribery. Specializes in prosthetics, was real tight with Dr. Roberts for a while. Operates outta France now.”
“Any idea who’s funding his latest science project?”
The sound of gunfire echoed into the night, interrupting the conversation. Jill tackled Erikson to the ground. They both grunted when they landed on the pavement, and Erikson grit his teeth as his shoulder popped out of joint. Jill pushed back to her feet, gazing up at the surrounding rooftops. That was no ordinary gunfire; she knew sniper fire when she heard it.
They only had a few more seconds before their assailant reloaded. Jill grabbed the collar of Erikson’s coat and dragged him into a secluded corner of the alley, hoping the shadows afforded them enough cover. Jill trained her ears for the next shot, but was met with the hustle and bustle of downtown Baltimore instead.
“Sounds like I asked the wrong question,” she whispered.
Erikson gritted his teeth and hissed. “Or the right one.”
“Stay here.” Jill emerged from the shadow, her eyes still trained skyward. She could barely hear Erikson trying to talk her out of this, knowing that she was putting the target on her own chest... but hey, she’d been shot before and came out of it alright. She wasn’t confident Erikson would have the same fate.
Sure enough, the sniper fired again. The bullet landed inches from Jill’s feet. A warning shot. Which, considering how precious sniper bullets were and how long one of those guns took to load... whoever was firing at them was either incredibly confident or damn foolish.
Maybe a little bit of both.
Finding a fire escape ladder to her left, Jill sprinted and leapt into action. She climbed along the rusty, swaying steps as fast as she could, knowing full well whoever was on the rooftop would likely be gone by the time she got there. But if they were busy reloading, and it took them just a few more seconds to gather their bearings and make a run for it...
Sure enough, by the time Jill got to the roof, there was no one to be found. They weren’t on any of the surrounding rooftops, either. But Jill did find the black bag that undoubtedly held their weapon. But the bag was empty, and the weapon itself was nowhere to be found.
Then she heard Erikson scream.
“Shit!”
She tore back down the fire escape as quickly as her legs would allow, taking the steps three at a time whenever she could. Once she reached the second story, Jill leapt to the ground. Thankfully, her ankles were laced with titanium, so she could take the jolt of a landing. Now in a crouch, Jill looked up to see Piotr standing in front of her, Erikson in a chokehold.
Jill frowned. “Piotr?”
“It seems you have made a friend.” Piotr’s smile grew when Erikson clawed at his forearm, which only made the Russian tighten his grip.
“And here I thought we were on the same side.”
“We are.” Piotr’s smile was disturbingly genial, and Jill just now saw the rifle slung over his shoulder. “You and I want the same thing.”
“And killing the journalist who’s investigating the man you want to bring down won’t help,” Jill muttered, crouching deeper into a defensive posture.
“The journalist will just cause more problems.” Piotr’s smile disappeared, and he squeezed his arms around Erikson so tightly that his eyes bulged and his mouth hung agape.
Jill charged Piotr as fast as she could, peeling him away from Erikson and tossing him up against the wall. Piotr laughed, shrugging Jill’s hands from his shoulders before headbutting her. The sound of metal on metal reverberated as Jill staggered back. Piotr used the space to bumrush her, tackling her to the ground and raining punches down on her.
Jill brought up her arms to shield her face... but it left her sides exposed. One of Piotr’s fists knocked the wind out of Jill, and she curled into herself. He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her off the ground as he stood. She wrapped her hands around Piotr’s wrists, but they wouldn’t budge.
“I want David Gregor in a body bag.” Piotr’s lip curled into a sneer. “I do not wish to see his conspiracy unravel and take me down with it.”
Erikson got back to his feet and snuck up behind Piotr. He punched the other vigilante in the back of the head... only to yelp in pain when his fingers shattered against Piotr’s titanium-reinforced skull. The reporter dropped to his knees, cradling his mangled hand against himself. Piotr barely even glanced over his shoulder.
Gritting her teeth, Jill slammed her forehead into Piotr’s. It didn’t do the damage she had hoped, but it did make him lose enough of his grip that she pulled herself free. She then socked Piotr in the stomach. When he doubled over, she got him square in the jaw with a vicious uppercut. The blow knocked Piotr back, and his lack of balance eventually caused him to fall.
Jill was on him before he could get up, cocking an eyebrow as her foot rested on Piotr’s crotch. “Go ahead.” She smirked, ignoring the dull throb in her side. “Something tells me these aren’t made of titanium.”
“I go down,” Piotr warned, “so do you.”
Jill shrugged. “I’m already a fugitive.”
“You cannot trust the journalist.”
Actually, Jill thought Erikson was one of the few people she could trust anymore. After all, he had every opportunity to out Jill to the masses. He could have—and probably should have—written the front-page story that ended her double life, yet he never did. He put his concern for the city above his own professional well-being, and if that didn’t tell Jill she could trust him...
“But I can trust the Russian?” Jill shook her head.
Piotr kicked Jill’s leg aside before springing back to his feet. He swung at her, but Jill ducked the blow and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her momentum sent Piotr into the wall, the back of his head slamming into the brick so hard that chunks of it fell to the ground. She punched him in the face, sending a stream of blood from his nose. Jill then grabbed Piotr by the neck, her thumb and forefinger pressing against his windpipe.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she said. “You’re gonna get the fuck out of my city and never come back. If I see you again, I will kill you.”
Piotr laughed. “No, you won’t.”
Piotr was probably right. After all, Jill had never intentionally taken a life, and she wasn’t keen on starting. For one thing, it was just wrong. After devoting her life for so many years to bringing down those who had taken lives, becoming one of those people herself was unthinkable. To say nothing of the fact that her family already had one murderer in it. She didn’t need to add to the count. But if she could get Piotr to think she might make good on her threat...
“You really wanna find out?”
“I could break you.”
Jill kneed Piotr between the legs, taking perverse satisfaction in the way he doubled over as the breath knocked out of him. When he did, she grabbed the sniper rifle from over his
shoulder, pulled it free, and slammed the butt of the weapon against the back of his head. He dropped face-first onto the pavement and she jammed the barrel of the weapon against the base of his skull.
“Would you survive if I pulled this trigger?”
Piotr lay there in silence, writhing in pain.
“I see you again,” she said, hoisting the gun over her shoulder, “we’re gonna see if ‘bulletproof’ is one of your powers.”
She kicked Piotr in the side of the face for good measure, a blow that rendered the other vigilante unconscious. Huffing a breath of relief and satisfaction, Jill turned and helped Erikson back to his feet. Part of her screamed to deal with Piotr with a little more finality, but time wasn’t exactly on her side—and being absolved of Freeman’s murder aside, she was still a fugitive.
“C’mon, we gotta get you some medical attention.”
Erikson cringed and gritted his teeth. “And then what?”
“Then you go into hiding.”
CHAPTER 32
It had been three hours since the vigilante had attacked Lori, and aside from a department-employed physician coming to make sure she wouldn’t require hospitalization, no one else had come for her. How long could the police hold her? Granted, she was guilty of the crime of which they were accusing her, but Lori knew enough to know that sitting in Interrogation for hours on end after being interrogated was outside the norm.
Her lawyer hadn’t even shown up. Where was he, anyway?
That guy was so fired.
When the door swung open, Lori sat up straighter, ready to give whoever was walking through hell... but she clamped her mouth shut once she saw the black man in the thick-rimmed glasses take the seat across from her. Instead, Lori folded her arms over her chest and scowled at Captain Richards.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he began, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the table. “No matter what else has gone on lately, I am still the captain of this precinct, and I will not tolerate any foolishness.”
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