by Lane Hart
“It’s not her fault,” a man replied.
Another woman argued, “I’m not even that drunk!”
Despite only hearing parts, it was obvious the conversation wasn’t about the missing guard, Russian gangsters, or finding us.
With Kira’s help, I ensured the comatose guard would stay that way a while longer, and then dragged him behind the desk to hide him from view.
“What’s the plan?” she whispered, leaning over the unconscious man.
I beckoned her closer. “Follow my lead.” Then I kissed her hard and fast.
She didn’t argue. Not even when I dragged my thumb over her bottom lip, smearing her lipstick further down her chin. In fact, her dazed eyes welcomed me to do it again.
Instead, I ran my lipstick covered thumb over my collar and loosened my tie.
With her hand in mine, I lead the way to what I hoped would be our chance at escape. I paused to mess my hair a little, and then yanked the door open on a whimsical laugh. Together, we stumbled into the hall, taking our hostess and her companions—the drunk couple from the lounge—by surprise.
“Oh! Excuse us,” I faked nervousness, running a hand down the front of my suit.
“What the hell?” Brittany Alexander was no slouch. The woman was half her husband’s age, and possibly twice as savage. She played the game, knew the score, and had no qualms about proving it.
“Would you believe we were looking for the restroom?” Kira dared.
The face of the young, drunk girl crumpled. It seemed she might break down in tears but instead, she doubled over in hysterics. The young man she was with looked to me with wide, shocked eyes. It was a look of recognition, although I had no idea who he was.
“You have a lot of nerve, crashing my party, entering where you’re not invited… Fucking in my husband’s office,” Brittany seethed.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “We should be ashamed. If it’s any consolation, you throw a fabulous party, and we only made out a little. I couldn’t talk her into fucking.”
The young girl snorted a laugh and then fell backwards onto her ass.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Brittany complained, her arms flailing in exasperation.
The young man crouched to the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you to your room.” He helped her to her feet and lead her away, but not before throwing another suspicious look in my direction.
“We’ll just show ourselves out.” I moved to leave, pulling Kira after me.
“No.” Brittany sidestepped in front of us, blocking our path. She stood like a sentinel, with her hands on her hips and her nose in the air. “I don’t know who you are. I honestly don’t care. But I know my husband was interested in you.” Her eyes trailed to Kira. “He was very interested in you.”
“We were just talking,” Kira offered. “Nothing serious.”
Brittany’s laugh was hard and heartless. “No one just talks to Bowen. If he wants you, he’ll have you. It’s just a matter of time. So, you’re going to do us both a favor and get it over with now.”
“I don’t understand,” I interrupted. “You want your husband to sleep with someone else?”
“It’s better that way.” Her lips twisted to an ugly scowl. “He takes his cruelty out on someone else, then comes back to me when he’s done. He always comes back to me, and he’s always nicer when it’s over.”
Kira’s hand held hard to mine, her grip almost painful. “Sorry,” she whispered, giving me one final squeeze. “I tried.”
She threw herself at Brittany, who attempted a scream, but the strangled cry caught in her throat when Kira’s hand clutched hard around it. Brittany’s head hit the wall like a hammer, but Kira’s momentum didn’t stop. Their bodies crashed roughly as Kira applied more pressure, putting her weight and muscle into her grip on the panicked woman’s neck.
It all happened quickly, but I watched it unfold as though in slow motion, enraptured by the graceful, brutal elegance of Kira’s every move. Gone was the soft smiling girl I’d caught a glimpse of—the one I’d been drawn to kiss. This was the wildcat. A fierce and deadly creature.
Such a beautiful fucking thing.
As Kira’s threat loomed large above her, Brittany’s façade crumbled. The cold, bitter bitch disappeared. Her face was awash in agony, eyes filled with terror. “Please,” she squeaked. “Please.” A desperate tear tumbled down her cheek, pleading for mercy.
But Kira didn’t let up. She was merciless.
Brittany’s eyes bugged as she struggled to breathe, her hands clawing at Kira’s tight hold.
Still, Kira didn’t relent.
But I could see a tremor in her arm. It was a tiny detail that someone else may overlook or explain away as fatigue or strain. I knew better. I’d felt that same tremor right before she’d stopped fighting me. When guilt and reluctance had taken over her features and she’d been unable to look me in the eye.
Kira was a capable weapon, but she had a terrible flaw. One that could cause her to misfire at any moment. It was an unpredictable problem that could mean the difference between life or death.
Emotions.
She not only had them, she let them rule her. Which meant her threats would always be empty and her formidable power would always be cut short. On her own, she’d never make it—not in this underground world of liars, thieves, and murderers. Not in the world where I lived.
Her shaking arm dropped from Brittany’s neck. The manicured, billionaire-bride gasped for air like a porn star sucks dick—with a whole lot of drama and noise.
“Quiet,” I demanded.
Kira turned to me with lost uncertainty.
“We’re leaving,” I insisted, glaring at Brittany. “And you’re coming with us.”
“What?” Kira gasped.
My only reply was a sharp look that warned her not to question me.
Kira backed off as I roughly grabbed Brittany by her boney arm, pulling her away from the spot where she was cowering.
Immediately, the rich bitch started complaining. “No! I’m not going anywhere!”
“Shut up,” I snarled. “One more sound from you and it’ll be my hand around your neck, and I promise you, I won’t let go.”
There was no time to wait for a response, but I was confident that the scared shitless glint in her eye confirmed her understanding. Keeping my fingers gripped tight, I lead her toward the exit, hoping she’d be enough leverage to keep us alive.
Kira kept pace, our hurried steps gaining speed as we made our escape. I was on high-alert, ready for a strike at any moment, but we made it to the service elevator without a problem.
“I don’t like this,” Kira breathed.
She shifted beside me as I willed the elevator to move faster, tapping the call button repeatedly.
“Me neither.”
Finally, the doors slid open to an empty car.
Brittany needed a nudge to get on, but at least she did it in silence. I clasped Kira’s hand again, and we stepped in together, blocking our hostage from leaving.
When the doors closed behind me, I took a steady breath. Nothing had gone as expected, and I didn’t have a clue what came next, but I needed to stay rational. Calm and collected. I had to keep my shit in order.
Focusing on logic, I attempted to put the pieces together. What I needed was a plan.
Right now, it would be easy for me to walk away. I didn’t owe Kira anything, her story likely wouldn’t change my circumstance, and I wasn’t getting paid. We weren’t even fucking. And now that it was confirmed I was dealing with Nikolai and his goon Sasha, I knew there was only one solution—their deaths or mine.
So, yes, I should leave her to fend for herself. Forget her. Keep on task of caring for me and mine.
Yet, I couldn’t.
My hero complex had reared its pitiful head, reminding me of how I’d started in this business in the first place. There was a reason I sloughed off emotion, a reason my only friends were the ones I’d paid, and it wou
ld be stupidly capricious of me to forget that. Falling back into hero-mode now would not only be foolhardy, but dangerous. Yet, no matter how cold, detached, or busy I was protecting my own, I couldn’t just walk away and hope she’d be all right. Hope she’d find her sister and not end up dead in the process.
She needed help, and as crazy as it seemed, I wanted to be the one to give it to her. I had to stick with her—to do the right fucking thing—and I couldn’t even identify why.
Maybe it was that hitch in her voice and anguish in her eyes, or her beautifully hard-headed perseverance. Whatever the reason, I wanted to slap on my armor, shiny cape and all, and kill every asshole who dared to even look at her wrong.
Shit, maybe Finn wasn’t the unstable twin, after all.
Kira leaned into me. Breaking my thoughts, she whispered in my ear, “Do you think Sasha will be waiting for us?”
Sasha. The name sliced my gut. Not because I feared or loathed him. ‘Til now, I hadn't cared one way or another about Sasha Belkin. He was merely a problem to solve. A man to kill. But Kira said his name in a way that was familiar, almost intimate, and it filled me with irrational jealousy.
Yes, I really was losing my mind.
“I don’t know what you want but you’re not going to get it,” Brittany interrupted. “You can’t outrun my husband. No one can.”
Kira seethed, “Lady, we don’t give a shit about your husband.”
She was right. Bowen Alexander was the least of our problems. He was a measured man. Predictable. With a public image to protect. Not like the Russians.
Sasha may only be the right hand of a madman, but that still made him a lunatic.
I pulled Kira closer, stroking my thumb over the side of hers. “We’ll see who’s waiting when these doors open. Better be prepared.”
“Here.” She snaked her free hand under her dress, producing the gun she’d stolen from the guard and revealing a hell of a lot of leg in the process.
My confidence bolstered. “You’re trusting me?”
“With the gun, yes.”
“Only with the gun, kitten?”
“Yes, Corbin.” She smirked, her voice smooth and inviting. “Only with the gun.”
The elevator shuttered to a stop as we reached the first underground parking level. Reluctantly, I let go of Kira’s hand, so I could drag Brittany to the front of the car. With the gun at her head, she didn’t put up a fight.
“Stay behind me,” I ordered Kira, and she listened.
I was ready for a barrage of gunfire, but when the automated metal parted, the only thing that greeted us was silence.
With a hard shove, I sent Brittany into the open. If the Russians were waiting to shoot, I had no guilt making her their target. But when she stumbled out the door, nothing happened.
She looked around uncertainly before turning back to me with a racoon-eyed sneer. “There’s no one here.”
Regardless of the silence, and even with the calm ridicule in her voice, I didn’t trust her.
Waving my gun, I motioned for her to get back on the elevator. She understood the threat and did as instructed, but not without a dramatic sigh and roll of her eyes.
As soon as she was in reach, I grabbed her again, pointing the weapon in her face. “If you’re lying to me, I’m going to put a bullet in your head,” I growled.
“Stop.” Kira boldly stepped out from behind me, into the open doorway.
My heart pumped erratically. “Don’t,” I warned as her toe inched over the metal grate.
She turned to face me, and with a sad shake of her head, stepped backward onto the concrete.
“No!”
I pushed Brittany aside, tossing her carelessly across the elevator. Kira’s golden eyes widened as I tackled her, throwing my body around hers like a shield. The momentum took us to the ground, sending hot flames of pain searing through my stitched-up arm as we landed.
But still, nothing fucking happened.
No screams. No gun shots. Not even a passing threat.
Just Brittany Alexander laughing and cursing at us as she disappeared behind the closing elevator doors.
“You fucking idiot,” Kira raged, slapping hard at my chest. “Get off me!”
Slowly rolling to the side, I took a hard look around the empty cavern. The sight of cars, concrete, and bad fluorescents made me suspicious. It was too easy. There should be armed guards, crazy Russians, or even a pissed off party-goer to slow us down. It made no sense that we could simply walk away, unscathed.
With Brittany headed back to the penthouse—back to blab to her husband, no doubt—we didn’t have time to lose.
“Come on.” I tried grabbing Kira’s hand again, but she refused, giving me a hard glare.
Her rejection sat heavy on my chest. I didn’t recognize the sensation, but I rationalized it away as a strain from the fall. “We need to get out of here,” I urged, pushing back the unneeded softness.
“Well, you wanted to be in charge. So, lead the fucking way.”
The Lambo sat in the back corner of the lot, like a pretty picture of salvation. When I clicked the fob, the car’s lights flashed bright and sexy.
“Seriously?” Kira ran a finger over the hood, impressed appreciation lighting her eyes. “This is a gorgeous machine.”
Her hair was a tangled mess, one long lock of it curled around her throat, dirt was smudged down the side of her dress, and her face was dotted with perspiration. Still, her disheveled beauty put the car to shame.
“Get in,” I clipped, done with my own mood swings. Done with feeling out of control.
The Lambo roared to life, its power at my command and the engine raring to go.
It was a potent yet reassuring thrill to have a beast like this under my charge. I took a moment to settle into it, keeping all my other feelings locked down tight.
I drove with caution, surveying the garage and anticipating trouble at each turn. Even when we moved into busy New York traffic, I remained alert and vigilant.
“I need to go home,” Kira murmured.
I glanced at her, hoping to understand where her head was at but getting distracted by her beauty instead. Her face was a pinch of concern, her breath was short and rapid, and the material of her dress had bunched, falling between her legs—smooth, toned, bare legs. Legs that I remembered felt exceptional when they were squeezed snugly around my waist.
“Can’t,” I answered, dragging my attention away from her long lines, and the sheath with her blade that was strapped around her upper thigh.
“But I have to,” she argued, her hands clutching hard at the seat, anxiety lacing each word.
This was Kira, I realized. Not the wildcat, but the woman. And shit, even though I’d found her, I still knew nothing about her.
“You can’t.” My voice was unshakable, despite the tightness of my throat. “Not unless you want to lead the assholes tailing us to your front door.”
She twisted in her seat, her hair whipping around her as she strained to see out the rear window. “Fuck!” She slammed the seat hard with her hand. “Fucking motherfucker!”
“Whoa, kitten,” I soothed, daring to run a hand over her knee as we stopped at a red. “Take it easy on the car. It’s a rental.”
Her eyes stayed fixed on the traffic behind us. “You have to get us out of here.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll lose them once we’re out of the city.”
“Out of the city?” Her head whipped back to me, her golden eyes vicious. “Where the hell are you taking me?”
“If you trusted me with the gun, then you can trust me in this car. Just think of it as another loaded weapon. Okay?”
Her scowl intensified. “The light’s green,” she hissed, pushing my hand off her knee as she retreated to her side of the car, her eyes glued to the side mirror.
We drove at a crawl through Manhattan, and it became even more obvious that the black Escalade, three cars back, really was shadowing us. Every lane change and turn were mimicked
. Every red light I tried to run, he followed.
From this distance, and with the darkly tinted windows, it was impossible to see who was driving, but I had zero doubt the vehicle was carrying Nikolai’s thugs, likely with Sasha at the wheel.
Finally, we hit the freeway, but the Escalade continued tailing us. They picked up speed, the grill of the large SUV taking over my rear view as they eliminated their distance.
“Bodhi!” Kira’s panic invaded my composure, threatening to knock me off course.
With a sharp breath, I regained my balance. “It’s all right, kitten, I got this.”
I tapped the paddle shifter and slammed my foot heavily on the accelerator. The Lambo shot forward like a rocket, jolting us back in our seats. Riding the wave of exhilaration, I white-knuckled the wheel, keeping it all under fucking control.
“Oh my God.” Kira looked back over her shoulder as I weaved in and out of the slower moving traffic. “We’re going to lose them. This car is amazing!” she marveled, turning to me with a laugh. “How fast does it go?”
“I’m not sure.” My laser focus shifted, stealing a glimpse of her beauty. “Want to find out?”
“Fuck, yes!”
I smiled and shifted another gear.
Kira
The car was flying, and so was I.
It had been a night of calamity. Fuck, it’d been an entire year of catastrophes, each one worse than the last. But in a bright yellow Lamborghini, traveling down the highway at death-trap speeds, I felt free of those burdens.
Free from all the searching, chasing, and fighting. The misery and misfortune. Even from Sasha and his merry band of killers. I was free to simply be alive—to enjoy riding in a fast car.
The feeling stretched and consumed me. It was a rushing, building sensation. Like an orgasm, only better. This was liberation.
Bodhi shifted gears again, blowing past traffic and breaking a handful of laws in the process.
Watching him was thrilling. The man drove as though he were possessed. As if he had no fear. Like he was one with the car gods. And each time I thought it was impossible to go any faster, he’d nudge the needle just a tiny bit more.