5. Victor
VICTOR
The shove hits my chest hard.
My boots slide backward across the floor, but my reflexes are faster than the surprise. My hand snaps out and locks around a thin wrist. I raise my right arm to block a punch while twisting hard. I use the momentum to slam the attacker back against the wall beside the door.
My pistol comes up between us.
Pain explodes in my side from the sudden movement, and I grit my teeth to keep from making a sound. My breath comes hard and ragged.
But I don't let go.
The body beneath my grip is lean, compact, and stronger than it should be. A chest rises and falls rapidly against mine.
A familiar scent fills my nose, and I immediately know it's a woman.
The streetlamp outside flickers. The light strobes through the window, cutting across the darkness in the room, and it illuminates her face.
It's those cold blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and blonde hair pulled back tight.
The Russian.
The woman who stabbed me at Cornel's.
My heart slams against my ribs.
And now, she's here in Bogdan's house. At the exact same time as me.
Shock, fury, and something far more dangerous spiral through my chest. I press the barrel of my silencer between her breasts and push it against her sternum. I lean in, and my voice comes out low and rough to keep quiet.
"You."
Her lips curve into a careless half-smile. She doesn't even glance at the gun. She just keeps her eyes on me.
"Miss me already, Victor?"
The sound of my name in her accent hits different than I expected. Not like last time.
I shift my weight, grabbing her other wrist and pinning both wrists against the wall above her head while my other hand holds the gun in place.
The pain in my side screams, but I ignore it.
"I thought you might be dead," she says.
"And yet." I tilt my head and smile back at her. "Here I am. Still breathing. But you knew I wouldn't die. Not that easily. So why play games?"
She shrugs. "You don't like games? How's your side, by the way? I can tell it hurts."
"Thanks to you."
"You're welcome."
I lean closer. The heat from her body radiates against mine. Her pulse hammers beneath my fingers where I grip her wrists.
"Oh, don't look so upset, Victor. You survived."
I lick my lips and look down at her. "Because you wanted me to."
Her smile falters for a split second. It's so brief I almost miss it, but I catch the micro-expression before her mask slides back into place.
"Careful, Victor. Your ego's showing."
"Your hands are empty now, so I'm okay with it," I say, looking at her.
She glances up at where I've pinned her wrists above her head, then back at me. "For now."
The tension coils tighter. My pulse pounds in my ears. Every instinct I have is screaming at me. She's dangerous. She's a threat. She's the enemy. But there's another voice, quieter and far more reckless, whispering something else entirely.
The streetlamp flickers again. Her eyes catch the light, cold and unreadable.
"So what now?" she asks, her voice deceptively soft. "You going to shoot me?"
"I should."
"But you won't."
"Why not?" I ask, baiting her.
"Because you want answers." She tilts her head, studying me. "And because you're curious."
"Curious?"
"About why I didn't kill you. About why I'm here. What I said before. About what I want. Pick."
"I know what you want. The Volkovs sent you to finish what Cornel started."
"Did they?"
"I said, stop playing games."
"I'm not the one holding a gun, Victor."
I lean in closer, my voice dropping. "Then maybe you should be more careful."
Even in the darkness, I can see her gaze drop to my mouth for a fraction of a second, then back up. "Maybe. It would be a shame to kill you."
Before I can respond, the office door swings open, and a lamp in the corner turns on, flooding the room in a harsh, bright light.
"Who the fuck are you two?"
Bogdan stands in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his hair. His face is red, furious, and confused all at once.
I release the Russian and step into the center of the room.
Bogdan's eyes dart between us, his mouth opening to shout again.
"Cine dracu..."
I don't let him finish.
"For my family," I say, then raise my gun and fire.
The silencer does its job, and a muffled bullet punches through Bogdan's forehead. His body crashes backward into the hallway with a heavy, wet thud.
Blood pools beneath his head, spreading across the ground.
I lower the gun, and when I turn back, the Russian is already moving.
She lunges for the desk.
My gaze snaps to where she's reaching, and I see a blue external hard drive sitting half-buried under a stack of folders.
Nope.
I drop the gun and launch myself at her.
My arms wrap around her waist just as her fingers brush the drive. The impact sends us both crashing over the desk. Papers scatter everywhere, and the lamp topples over and shatters, plunging the room back into darkness.
We hit the floor hard.
She twists beneath me, her elbow driving into my ribs. The pain flares through my side, and I grunt, but I don't let go.
She's fast. Faster than anyone I've fought before.
Her knee comes up, aiming for my groin, but I shift my hips and block it with my thigh. She bucks, throwing me off her.
We scramble to our feet, and she comes at me. Her fist catches me in the jaw, followed by another blow. I block it and drive my elbow into her chest, pushing her back.
She smiles and comes at me again. She kicks me, and my left arm takes the brunt of the force. She tries with the other, and my right hand catches her leg, and I toss her backward.
We wrestle back and forth, her hair coming loose, and her long blonde hair flows down her shoulders. In the chaos, her shampoo is the only thing I can smell.
She headbutts me, and I stumble back. She goes to strike me again, and I grab her wrist, then twist, letting her momentum crash into me. I then sweep her legs and send her crashing to the floor. I jump on top of her, straddling her hips and pinning both her wrists to the floor.
We go dead still.
Both of us are breathing hard, our chests heaving. Sweat drips down my temple. The pain in my side is a roaring inferno, but I hold on.
She looks up at me, her eyes glinting in the faint moonlight filtering through the broken window.
Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, neither of us moves as we catch our breath.
"You've got to stop getting yourself into these positions with me," I say, smiling.
"I can't help myself," she says in a mocking tone.
I laugh and lean down, my face inches from hers. "My charm working on you now?"
Her gaze drops to my mouth. Slowly, deliberately, she licks her lips.
"Maybe," she says as her eyes drop lower.
Not to my gun.
To the unmistakable bulge pressing against the front of my pants.
She raises one eyebrow, amusement flashing across her face before she slowly looks back up at me.
"But I see my charm is working on you."
My pulse hammers as heat crawls up the back of my neck.
Traitor.
Every muscle in my body knows she's the enemy. She stabbed me. She'd kill me without losing a second of sleep.
Apparently, my body didn't get the fucking memo.
"Why are you here?" I ask, my voice rough.
"Why are you?" she counters. "What did he do to your family?"
I glance over at Bogdan's corpse, and that damn split-second distraction is all she needs.
Her hips buck violently, throwing my weight off-center, and her knee drives up hard into my healing stab wound.
Pain detonates through my ribs, and I gasp, unable to hide it, and fall slightly to the side.
She rips her wrists free, rolls out from under me, and springs to her feet in one fluid motion.
By the time I look up, she's on the desk.
She grabs the hard drive, vaults onto the windowsill, and lifts the window open.
She pauses, one leg sticking out, and looks back at me.
Her lips curve into a smirk. She brushes her hair behind her ear and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, as if brushing off the encounter.
"Better luck next time, pretty boy."
Then she's gone.
I sit on the floor, surrounded by scattered papers, clutching my side.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest.
At least Bogdan is dead for what he did, but now, there's no denying it.
The cold, calculating politician is gone.
She played me. Dare I say she fucking seduced me, and now, without question, she beat me.
Again.
I press my palm against my side, breathing hard as I stare at the empty window.
Next time, she won't get away that easily.
I push myself to my feet. A second later, I laugh and shake my head.
This just got a hell of a lot more interesting.