28. Chapter 28 #2
She rolled just in time for Nikita to land on top of her, a fist already aimed for her face. Jackie raised her arms in defence, taking the onslaught with ease, thanks to the Dyneema plastic lining her sleeves.
Nikita lowered himself down her legs when he realized his attacks against her face and arms were ineffective. He punched at her sides, finding they were also guarded with more of the ultra-dense plastic.
Another angry grunt escaped him, and he tried to stand. He moved too quickly, forgetting the height of the vehicle in his anger, and slammed his head into the top. Another roar of anger loosed, and Jackie couldn’t help but laugh at how cartoonishly he fought.
“Fuck torturing you for Fraser,” Nikita spat as he pulled a knife from his pocket. “I’ll skin you alive and leave your corpse on his doorstep.”
Jackie didn’t let him say another word. Her foot raised and connected with his balls again.
The knife fell from his hand, connected with the Kevlar and hard plastic around Jackie’s abdomen, and fell to the floor.
Jackie swiftly grabbed it, maneuvering as fast as she could in the tight space while Nikita fell into the bench, whining about his balls.
She brought the knife up and stabbed him in the shoulder.
Stabbing Nikita in the heart would be too easy—and not how she planned on killing him.
He cried out again and kicked Jackie in the knee.
She felt her leg overextend back and crack.
She cried out in pain and fell forward onto him.
He punched her with his good arm, managing to get her in one of the few places on her side not covered by the Dyneema.
She heard more cracking sounds, but the adrenaline had kicked in enough to prevent her from feeling too much pain.
Jackie kept moving, bringing her fist down on his face until blood poured from his mouth and nose.
Two months of rage and anguish flooded out of her through her fists.
This man had taken Talia and allowed her to be hurt.
He had used Talia as a pawn to abduct Jackie.
All because Dimitri had conned some dumbasses out of some money.
As if Nikita and those same dumbasses had never done far worse.
Nikita had used her and Talia as pawns to hurt Dimitri, and Jackie couldn’t stand it.
She was not a pawn.
She would not be someone’s pawn.
Nikita’s hands fell limp beside him, and Jackie fell back to sit on the centre console, wedged between the two front seats.
She watched him while she caught her breath.
He was still breathing, so she hadn’t killed him with the onslaught, but he was unconscious.
She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt the tears on her hands and looked down to find broken skin and blood being washed away, one tear at a time.
She reached for the hidden zipper on the side of her suit and pulled out the gun and bullet, safely nestled under the firm plastic barrier.
While she did, she peered out the windows at her surroundings.
The lot was still ominously empty. No one had seen or heard the commotion in the car.
Somehow, it felt worse than if anyone had shown up.
Nikita’s men should have followed him out not long after he arrived.
Nikita’s head lolled around, and he groaned as he came to. Jackie scanned the area one last time as she loaded the small, palm-sized gun. She waited patiently for Nikita to fully regain consciousness.
Finally, he raised his head to look at her. His face was swollen, but his eyes were clear enough. “Why do you cry?” he asked, his voice now an even deeper rasp.
“I am not a pawn,” Jackie replied, though her voice lacked conviction.
Nikita’s eyes dropped to the gun in Jackie’s lap. He sighed, seemingly lacking the energy to fight anymore. When he met her gaze again, he asked, “Who is Neil Patterson to you? Why does the head of CSIS want you so bad?”
Jackie considered answering. Nikita wouldn’t be able to share the information with anyone. But her stomach turned as the words mulled around her brain. She wasn’t ready to speak them.
“Neil Patterson is a dead man,” she said instead. She turned the gun in her hand, examining it for a moment before raising it toward Nikita’s face. He didn’t flinch. He only watched, as if putting together the pieces of a puzzle. “Dimitri wanted me to return this to you,” she said.
The corner of Nikita’s face quirked up a moment. Just long enough to unsettle Jackie. "JP is slippery. You won't have an easy time finding him again. But, I do know he's already back in France."
Jackie lowered the gun slightly in surprise at that. "How long did you know about us and JP?"
Nikita made a strangled chuckling noise.
"I told him you two would likely be seeking him out after I told Fraser about selling the stray.
He came crying to me after your little dalliance last week, saying Fraser was going to kill him for it.
He admitted to what happened back on Halloween, and that he'd used the whole situation to extort more sex out of you. "
Jackie scoffed in disgust. "Why tell me all this? You're about to die anyway."
Nikita's unnerving smile returned. "Because he should have handed you over on Halloween. Instead he tried to play both of us, and as you see, I don't take lightly to being used or played. I just hope you take longer killing him than you are me. Make him beg."
"You're not begging?"
He reached up and pulled the knife from his shoulder with an agonized groan and tossed it aside. He grasped his wrist, lifting it before letting the arm fall, showing her he had no fight left to give even if he wanted to. "Be done with it."
Jackie didn't argue. She pulled the trigger. The shot was deafening in the enclosed space. Blood, skull and brain matter splattered the back seat of the car, coating the windows and Jackie’s face.
She glanced around the backseat, taking in the dead man and the gore he'd left behind. She leaned over into the driver's seat and threw up the contents of her stomach. Number three, and she didn’t think she’d ever get used to killing someone.
When she finished, she looked up to find two men racing toward the car. Two men who were too familiar to be here. Who hadn’t been invited on this particular mission.
She was waiting for them when one of the twins opened the door she’d been shoved through. Both were taken aback when they saw her, covered in blood and looking furious. She stared between them; they initially stared back, before looking over her shoulder at the dead Russian in the backseat.
“Who sent you?” she seethed.