Close Protection

Chapter 7 Milosh

7 MILOSH

The first sign that something was wrong was when I couldn’t hear Daphne’s footsteps on the stairs, but I didn’t think too much of it because this is such a large house. But, when I hear what I assume to be her bowl dropping and smashing, I get up to help her clean the mess, only to find her being strangled by a guy twice her size.

White-hot rage runs up my spine as I see Daphne in such a vulnerable position, but I swiftly damp it down. This isn’t the time to lose control.

Because of where I’m standing neither of them can see me, giving me an advantage. As she quickly loses consciousness I run through my options.

With the lighting so dim, using my gun wouldn’t be safe for Daphne so that’s out. From this angle my knife would only wound the guy and probably make him more angry, likely leading him to take that frustration out on her, so that’s out too.

I survey the kitchen, quickly considering what else could be used, then it comes to me.

Quietly rushing to the cabinets, I open up the pots-and-pans drawer I saw Josh, their cook, go into earlier, and pull out a large cast-iron skillet. Stalking over to the kitchen entrance, I stop abruptly as I remember the secret door leading from the kitchen straight to George’s study from the schematics I was just studying. I look around, trying to locate it, before spotting it at the far end of the kitchen. Walking over, I open the door quietly, and briskly walk through the room to get right behind the man.

‘Honestly, choking you would’ve been pretty hot under different circumstances,’ the guy says to the nearly unconscious Daphne. ‘But hey, maybe next time, yeah? When you’re tied up in my—’

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to finish his perverted sentence because I strike him over the head with the pan. He drops to his knees in the doorway, releasing Daphne in the process.

‘If a girl has to be unconscious for you to get her into bed,’ I spit, thrashing him with the pan again, ‘I think you need to ask yourself if you’re the problem.’ I deliver a blow to his airway, following it up with a few kicks to his back to make sure he’s down before dropping the pan and rushing over to Daphne who is lying among the shards of glass and broken ceramic on the cold, wet floor, unconscious.

I drop down next to her and begin assessing her injuries. Placing two fingers on the side of her neck, I feel a steady pulse. Then I look for any glass shards that may have been caught in her skin, checking to see if any had been wedged anywhere lethal. Confirming none are life threatening I brush them off her, then wrap my hands around her jaw and tilt her head back to feel for breath. ‘Daphne? Daphne, wake up.’ Feeling my panic rising, I drop one hand to her arm and gently shake her.

‘Come on, Daphne,’ I whisper, ‘wake up for me.’

She starts stirring and her eyes flutter open slowly. ‘Milosh?’ she whispers.

‘Daphne? You okay?’

‘Gu—’ she groans.

‘What?’

‘Gun,’ she says, catching her breath. ‘Milosh, he has a gun.’

I turn around and see that she’s right.

The intruder is on the floor, stretching towards a gun that must’ve fallen out of his pocket and is now in front of him, just out of reach. I pull out my knife from my right pocket and throw it towards his hand. It rips through his flesh and pins him between the floorboard and the door of the study, leaving him screaming, and temporarily immobilized. He’s so loud I’m shocked George doesn’t immediately come running down the stairs.

‘Wow,’ Daphne gasps. I turn back to her, only to find her staring in shock at the knifework I suddenly feel pretty good about. ‘How did you do that?’ she asks, searching my eyes for the answer.

‘Training, Miss Green.’

‘Agh!’ the intruder cries. ‘You stabbed me, you prick.’

Ignoring him, I scan Daphne over. She’s sitting up now, but still looks a little out of breath. ‘Can you stand?’ I ask, walking away from her and over to the large inconvenience who’s currently staining the floor with his blood.

‘Um…’ She gets up slowly, testing her balance, wobbling for a second but righting herself almost instantly. ‘Yeah, I’m good. What do you need me to do?’

‘Go and get some cable ties and tape, and I’ll secure him.’

‘I think there’s some in the laundry room downstairs,’ she says as she starts walking towards the basement.

‘Wait.’ I shake my head. ‘Don’t go down there; I don’t know if he came in alone.’ She stops abruptly and walks slowly back to me. I drop to my haunches and unbuckle my belt, yanking it swiftly out of the loops. This’ll have to do for now.

‘Go and have a look in your father’s study to see if there’s anything else I can use to tie him up.’ I instruct her, keeping the guy still as she walks past him. I know no ones in the study and from here I can still see her.

With my boot-clad foot holding down his free hand, I lean over and fasten my belt around his feet, tying a little tighter than necessary. I look back into the study to check on Daphne who’s filing through her father’s desk drawers. In my peripheries I see the intruder straining to look into the study, smiling when he see’s Daphne.

‘I bet she’d look real good freshly fu—’

Before he can say another word I bring his free arm up towards me and twist it the wrong way, breaking his wrist with a loud crack.

He screams out in pain. ‘You bastar—’

‘Shut your mouth,’ I spit, ‘or I’ll break each finger individually.’ I lean closer into him. ‘And that’s not a threat. It’s a promise.’ And just like magic, guess who stops talking?

I keep grasping his broken wrist with one hand, adding just a little bit of pressure to discourage the guy from doing anything stupid, and search his pants and jacket pockets, finding a burner phone and a wallet. I put the phone on the floor and open up his wallet. ‘Stefan Mikelson, age thirty-four.’

‘Good for you, you know my name,’ he remarks.

The man has the sass of a Chihuahua.

‘I thought I told you to shut your mouth,’ I respond, snapping his thumb back, offering a right hook to his jaw. Leaning over, I pick up his discarded gun, take the blunt edge of the handle and smash it into his temple, knocking him out before he has a chance to make any more irritating quips. With his head turned, in a very uncomfortable position, I see a faint tattoo on his lower neck. Moving his sweater down, the full tattoo comes into view. It’s a skull, with the eyes in the shape of letter D s, and a chess knight set atop it.

The Daveeno tattoo.

‘Is this okay?’ Daphne comes up beside me, slightly breathless, before offering me the duct tape.

‘Yeah, this can work.’ Dropping the gun I take the tape from her, ripping off a piece and covering his mouth.

‘Is his hand supposed to bend that way?’ she asks, her delicately arched eyebrows drawing together in concern as she chews on her plump bottom lip.

‘Nope.’

‘Huh,’ she murmurs, looking up at me. ‘Maybe you really are as good as they say, Mr Petrov.’

‘Just doing my job, Miss Green.’

She searches my eyes with such intensity that I feel my blood start to heat. My gaze falls to her mouth as it parts, as if she’s about to say something, before we’re interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

‘Do you think that’s one of his friends?’ Daphne whispers, looking nervously over to the unconscious nuisance in front of us.

‘I don’t know. Stay here.’ I grab Stefan’s gun from the floor in front of me and quickly cock it, moving slowly towards the door, pausing when I hear talking and… moaning?

‘Shh, you don’t want to wake everyone.’

Is that…?

‘Everyone’s asleep, gorgeous, it’s just you and me.’

Yup.

I turn the corner, only to be met with the sight of Henry pushing Amelia against the front door as they make out. I put the safety of the gun back on and clear my throat just as Henry starts kissing his way down Amelia’s neck. Her eyes open slightly at the sound of me, and the haze quickly leaves them as she comes to her senses and swiftly pushes Henry off her.

‘Milosh, oh my goodness!’ Amelia breathes, pulling her dress down briskly. ‘What are you doing up so late?’ Upon hearing Amelia’s voice, Daphne turns the corner, and at the sight of her bruises and the bloodstains on her pyjamas, the Harrises quickly jump into parental mode.

‘What happened?’ Henry demands, any trace of desire or humour gone. I simply pocket the gun and lead them towards Mr Inconvenience so they can see for themselves.

‘I’ll call the police,’ Amelia declares, taking in the scene.

‘No.’

‘What?’ Both she and Daphne look at me as if I’ve told them I decided to take up knitting as a career.

‘No police,’ I instruct again. ‘This guy –’ I give him a little kick, just because I can – ‘clearly wanted something here that he couldn’t find at George’s work. Me and Henry will search the house to make sure he didn’t come with a friend. Then we’ll wake George, question him and go from there. But for now, no police.’