Chapter 14
Max
As I rise from the armchair, ice cracks off my shoulders and falls to the floor in shards. Getting here was a bitch.
Cold that’s burrowed through skin and muscle into bone stiffens my legs, but I force them to hold my weight.
The locket swings from my fingers, gleaming in the light before I tuck it back into the front pocket of my jeans.
I had the necklace safe inside my glove box when Nika attacked me in the parking garage, a smart decision in hindsight considering she patted me down while I was bound to a chair and unconscious.
I return my focus to the she-devil. A gray tank top stretches tight across her breasts. Her white cotton panties show off the pale expanse of those lithe legs and the curves and dips I felt grinding against me in that penthouse suite.
Good.
Her vulnerability clarifies the power dynamic. She’s exposed while I’m armored in layers of slick, waterproof fabric.
She backs up until her spine crashes into the wall. Truly scared, or just pretending? Either way, the result’s the same.
I’m catching her this time.
I lurch forward, and my right ankle nearly crumples. The pain—the result of a free-fall down the mountain that a tree was kind enough to break for me—aches. The bone’s not broken, but it’s more than just a strain. Stopping to treat it meant potentially freezing to death, so I trudged on.
The joint’s swollen as shit, but I’ll survive. Pain is just information I can acknowledge and ignore.
When I take another step, she bolts across the room.
I follow, plodding like a fucking pack mule. The sight probably looks scarier than it is. My ankle barely flexes, and I’m still half frozen.
After Nika disappears around a corner, the tink of rustling utensils hits my ears.
As I poke my head around the edge of the wall, I hear the tiniest snick. Metal sliding along calloused flesh.
I jerk my head back as a kitchen knife soars past. I risk another peek, and a second blade nearly chops off my nose.
Shit, are all her kitchen knives balanced for throwing? I can’t just wait around to find out.
Air rushes from my lungs as I duck and roll just as a meat mallet flies above and cracks into the wall. There’s nothing to hide behind, so I grab a metal garbage can and chuck it at her head.
If she wants to fight dirty, I’m down.
Nika dodges to the side. Food packages flutter around her, and the garbage can ends up in the sink.
But she’s not done. “You’re looking pretty sluggish. This should help.”
I spot a gray bottle in her hand and curse as I pull my parka up over my eyes.
The chemical stink of drain cleaner stings my nose as gel splatters over my sleeve. Through the snow and ice melting into my hat, I can’t tell if any gel landed on top of my head.
I rip the cap off with my clean hand before it can drip into my face and fling the damp fabric straight at Nika’s head. “I’d rather you have it.”
She leaps onto the counter like a cat. “I’m all good.” With strength she shouldn’t have, she rips a cabinet door off its hinges and swings.
The smooth wood is too slick for my gloved hands to catch hold of, and I take several blows as I lumber toward her. Each hit burns like fire as my nearly frozen skin fails to flex properly.
This brat is more trouble than she’s worth. She’s responsible for so much pain and suffering, including Sasha’s death.
Good thing trudging up the mountain gave me plenty of time to think. If I decide to kill her, I’ve already brainstormed a few ideas for a convincing story I can spin for Roman.
Nika maneuvers over the countertops as she heads toward the front room, using the height to her advantage and keeping that cabinet door held between us as a weapon and shield.
I spot a weird pale gray blob sticking out of the top of her underwear, but I can’t get a decent view as the almost two-by-three-foot door swings at my neck like an executioner’s ax.
I throw myself back. “Can’t you just throw dishes like a normal person?”
Hopping around hurts like hell. My ankle protests with each movement, and my skin prickles as the house’s warmth brings it back to life.
The heat has thawed my skin and clothes, causing ice and snow to slide from my gear in wet clumps. Backing into a half-melted iceberg, I slip and fall on my ass.
Nika takes immediate advantage of this, of course, and hurls the door like a frisbee straight at my face.
I clock her toes curling under her.
She’s about to jump.
Slapping one hand to the floor, I twist my hips to the side and kick off the white tile. As her legs start to straighten, I lunge toward her. “You’re not getting away again!”
I’m three stumbling steps closer when her knee dips.
She changes trajectory and launches herself at me. That amorphous gray blob sits in her hands.
I have no time to duck, and I’m already off-balance.
Nika hits my shoulders, her arms and legs twining around me like a monkey’s might. “Time to take out the garbage.”
My vision blanks, and I find myself choking on a lemon-fresh scent that sticks to my lips and tongue. She wraps a heavy-duty trash bag over my face, pulling it taut behind my head.
Genius. Using anything and everything at hand as a weapon.
If I could breathe, I might commend her.
My body reacts as all human bodies do when suddenly deprived of oxygen. My lungs heave, my chest constricts, and my mind scrambles with primal panic.
But it’s not my first time dealing with something like this and probably won’t be my last either. So I push all those instincts aside and do what I do best.
Fight back.
With her legs around my chest, under my arms, and her upper body strength keeping the bag in place, dislodging her will be hell.
I’ve faced worse odds, though.
Not able to see, I end up shoulder-checking the wall, stumbling to the side, and dropping to my knees.
Nika rides me down, yanking the bag tighter and wrenching my head back. “Just fucking die already!”
Instinctively, I halt my fall with both hands, then correct myself and collapse to my right. Rolling over onto my back, I crush Nika’s leg. She grunts but doesn’t relent.
Stubborn and strong. If not for the fact that I’m the one she’s trying to kill, I’d admire her tenacity. Not everyone can take a hit like she can and barely flinch.
There’s no slack in the plastic. No air in my lungs.
But I can hold my breath for over four minutes, and that’s a long time for her to maintain this position.
Then again, I’m not sure I want to risk my survival against Nika’s grudge-fueled stamina. She’s already surprised me plenty of times.
Attacking her directly, when I could literally be dead within minutes, is too risky.
Ignoring her and everything else, I bring my hands together, fumble the glove off my right one, and jab my fingers into my mouth.
No good.
I’ve got no nails to break through plastic designed to flex and handle broken glass. All I can do is snap my jaw closed and grit my teeth.
I try again. And again.
My eyes start to bulge from the carbon dioxide. I’ve already pushed myself just to get here. Lactic acid’s built up in my muscles, and I’m fatigued enough without the added asphyxiation.
What strength I have left fades second by second. Ringing pierces my eardrums.
Digging in with my fingers, I push the plastic over my canines until it tears. Once I have that opening, I rip myself a breathing hole and suck air into my burning lungs.
Now I just have to get her off my back and under my control.
Smashing her into a wall or grinding her into the floor won’t work. She’s too resilient. Even pinned against the wall by her throat at the hotel, she didn’t quit until she’d drugged me.
Excruciating pain it is.
Grabbing Nika’s foot by the heel and pad, I start twisting. Either the ankle will break, or she’ll have to shift her leg.
She doesn’t grant me the time.
Instead, she slams her other heel into my side, at the front of my kidney. Thank God I’ve still got my parka on. The padding saves me from the worst of that pain, but the impact still draws a curse out of me.
She knocks my grip on her leg loose by bringing her elbow down against my ear.
I’m still trying to catch my breath when she spins out from under me and darts away.
Motherfucker.
Lucky her. She didn’t have to climb a damn mountain over the last few hours.
I pry the bag off my head and spin around to watch where she goes. Can’t have her bringing a knife down on me.
Nika reaches the fireplace and whirls to face me, wielding a new weapon.
“A fire poker. That’s basic.” I drag myself to my feet, taking my time and ensuring I’m stable before I get within her striking range. If I go rushing in, she’s likely to crush my skull.
“Basic, but effective.” She holds the poker with both hands, ready to swing.
Raising my fists into a boxer’s stance, I shuffle forward and slightly to the left.
Nika moves as well, keeping me directly in front of her. Well-trained, but also predictable.
As I dart forward, she swings like she’s going for a home run. I have no doubt this woman could hit one out of the park. I drop and roll under her swing, my muscles screaming from exertion.
Nika spins away, expecting an attack from behind.
Instead, I continue my roll, heading for the pillow on a small rocking chair. With the cushion in hand, I stand, holding the pillow up along my forearm. I can improvise shields too.
She’s already shifting into a batter’s stance, clearly preparing to break my arm.
Then I remember her trick in the suite.
With my left hand, I reach back, grab the arm of the chair, and fling the whole piece of furniture at her head.
She releases a startled squeak, ducks, and tosses the fire poker to the side so she doesn’t stab herself.
She’s not quite fast enough to evade completely.
The lightly padded back of the chair hits the top of her head, knocking her off-balance.
I’m on her before her vision can clear.
I jump on her back, grappling her wrists and yanking them together. Knowing she’ll think her way through this if I give her any time, I lower my feet to the floor and hoist her up.