Chapter 3
Nika
Max spins away from me, his boots splashing through water as he circles the nearest car.
He’s stronger than me. That’s just physics. He stands over six feet tall with a medium build and defined muscles. Not the kind of guy who expects to get jumped in parking garages.
But with strength comes predictability. Strength moves in straight lines, follows patterns, and relies on force.
With my speed, I don’t need any of that. Dimitri taught me how to fight against bigger and more formidable men. I understand how to pit someone’s momentum against them, how to dodge and feint without telegraphing my intentions, and how to get up close before someone even senses me.
I’ll use my own unpredictable fighting style to beat him.
He ducks behind a sedan, disappearing from view. The garage goes quiet, leaving only the ambient noise from outside. Rain hammers the upper levels and blows in from the open sides. Somewhere below, car doors slam. Distant voices waft up from the sidewalks.
Max hides. He clearly doesn’t trust his strength against me.
I anticipated a mindless brute, but he’s smarter than I suspected.
A good quality in a man. Too bad it won’t keep him alive.
I drop into a crouch and scan the ground beneath the parked cars.
Nothing.
He must have tucked himself behind a tire, or maybe he hopped onto a running board or bumper.
I inhale through the nose and exhale through barely parted lips. Silently, just the way Dimitri trained me.
Max remains quiet too. He’s skilled, but I’m better.
He’ll expect me to go low, sneak along the ground, and use the vehicles for cover. That’s the logical strategy.
So instead, I’ll go high.
The nearest vehicle is a silver SUV, its hood slick with rain that’s blown in and runoff from the upper levels. Pressing a hand on the hood, I jump up and land with my toes on the very edge, where the fiberglass won’t flex.
Dimitri insisted I practice this maneuver for months. He taught me to navigate unstable and slippery surfaces, learning to distribute my weight so precisely that I become a ghost.
One more step and I’m on the roof. From my new vantage point, I can observe the entire garage floor.
Max crouches behind a dark blue sedan two spots away, a gun in hand. He studies the rearview mirror of the vehicle in front of him, hunting for me.
I shudder at the sight of his weapon. I don’t do guns. Years ago, I convinced Dimitri to get rid of his small arsenal.
For the second time today, memories from the island threaten to close in, but I lock them down.
I need to move before Max sees me.
Reaching into my pocket, I extract a half-eaten granola bar and chuck it toward the cars on the opposite side. The open wrapper flutters, then taps on a window before tumbling down.
Max spins on his heels.
Leaping from hood to hood, I treat the cars like stepping stones. With three long strides, I’m above him.
I launch onto his back and grip his hair with my free hand, jerking his head up as I slide the knife along his neck.
When he falls forward, I ride him down. His right hand, the one with the gun, flies out to the side, and I kick the weapon away.
It clatters onto the concrete, skittering under the sedan and out the other side.
I’m not heavy enough to knock the wind out of him, or maybe he’s just too big. Either way, his breathing remains easy even with me clinging to his back, my knees on the frigid floor as I straddle his ass.
My pulse hammers with adrenaline and something else I refuse to name. Annoyed by my reaction, I give him a little shove.
He lies rigid beneath me. “Nice moves, Nika.”
Hatred burns through my veins, but I remain calm. “Thanks.” My hips rotate, molding to the tight curve of his ass as I bring my leg back under me.
A strangled noise escapes him. “What are you, a fucking cat?”
Is…is this asshole laughing?
The bastard really does have a death wish.
“Meow.” I hold my knife against the side of his throat. He resists for half a second—fueled by instinct, maybe, or pride—then yields.
As he tips his head, our gazes lock. Those arctic eyes radiate cold fury.
Our position shorts out my brain. The heat against my groin, his hardness against my soft, sensitive skin. His body beneath mine, his back rising and falling with each ragged breath. I’m acutely aware of every shift of his muscles.
My core tightens.
No.
I crush the ridiculous attraction.
Focus on the mission, on the locket. On the reason you’re here. To kill this man and hurt Roman.
The pelting rain reminds me of a different, more tropical storm.
Of rain falling so violently, it felt like the sky was trying to drown the earth.
Of the sight of my mother’s body slumped on the ground, blood pooling beneath her.
Roman towering over her with his fingers grasping the delicate chain around her neck.
White-hot rage courses through my body, incinerating all other emotion. “Where. Is. My. Locket?”
An unflinching Max holds my gaze. “Not on me.”
I press the knife harder, piercing his skin. Blood wells in the shallow cut. “Liar.”
“It’s somewhere safe.” Despite the crimson drops trickling down his neck, he oozes calm. “Kill me, and you’ll never see it.”
I picture the gas station he stopped at right before he parked here. He could be telling the truth. He could’ve stashed the locket there or in another location...or maybe he’s lying. Maybe he hid my prize somewhere on his body.
When I take too long to decide, Max surges upward. Even with his arms and legs splayed, he manages to fling me backward.
In an impressive show of flexibility from someone his size, he draws his legs up while I’m still airborne. The action slides the knife along his neck, drawing even more blood.
My back hits the ground, and I tuck my chin, rounding my spine to protect my head. Moving with the impact, I flip over backward and land in a crouch, ready for the next assault.
I brace for Max to charge me. Instead, he veers toward his truck. From under the vehicles, I glimpse him snatching up his backpack and darting for the stairs beyond the exit sign.
Sheathing my blade, I trail him at a walk.
A parking garage is no place for murder, anyway. Too many cameras. Too many angles.
Killing Max on the streets or in a back alley is a much better option. Then I’ll claim the locket, dispose of his body, and be back at headquarters sipping tea before Dimitri even knows what happened.