He curls his forefinger and taps it against my chest. “First, if you’d come to me, I wouldn’t have been paranoid about my position. I wouldn’t have felt the need to punish you by taking away your newest plaything.”
My fist smashes into his face before I even know I’ve thrown the punch. I drive forward, landing another blow and another in a red haze until he’s pinned against the restaurant frontage. Another blow and his head cracks off the concrete behind him as I roar in his face. Every piece of my self-control evaporating.
He retaliates. Swinging wildly, he lands a blow to my cheekbone that makes my brain ricochet inside my skull, my watering eye swelling shut.
I dodge the next, time lagging into slow-motion as my senses flood with the sharp hit of pain, the scent of his blood, the hunger to avenge, to smash apart the man tearing my world apart.
Snarling, I stamp at his calf, catching him in a headlock and using my hip to pin him against the wall. The flick-knife is in my inside pocket. I squeeze Andrej’s throat without mercy, then stretch my fingers to snag the handle.
I know vaguely that hands are on me, guards and members trying to pull us apart. My body absorbs their attack, ignoring their fists as I redouble my efforts to choke Andrej, squeezing until his legs sag.
When his weight is dragging at me, I release the hold. Fumble in my pocket for the knife. Grab the handle.
Then the interceptors overwhelm me. They drag us apart, tearing the weapon from my hand. Four men grasping my wild limbs and another on my back as I try to fight free, bellowing for blood.
With another two guards’ support, Andrej gains his footing and smiles at me, baring teeth coated in his blood.
“She’s fine.” He spits a crimson mouthful to the side. “A little scratch where I dug out her tracker.” Andrej swipes one forefinger over the other in a scolding gesture. “Naughty boy for not telling her about that. She looked ready to cry when I pulled it out of her. Especially when she’d just explained that you hadn’t fitted one to begin with.”
I get a hand free and use it to push one guard away, glaring until the others loosen their grips. They surround me, forming a human fence. The main doorman eyes me warily.
“My driver dumped her on the side of the road, but I doubt she hung around. I explained what I’d do if I ever saw her again. Even gave her a little taste.”
My arms are restrained before I can attack him again. The doorman advances with a Taser held loosely in his hand as a warning.
Andrej’s eyes glitter in the low light. He flicks me a smile as sharp as the penknife they wrenched from me. “Go behind my back again and I’ll be the one asking favours from Pavle.”
I lunge for the last time, the security detail bundling him inside while forming a barricade so I can’t follow.
Men stand in loose groups inside the foyer. The winding staircase to the main floor is lined with onlookers, distracted from the party by the entertainment outside.
The worry I had for Isabelle tonight—that someone involved in the kidnapping would spot her and try to harm her—is gone. A smokescreen blown away by the realisation Andrej didn’t want her held out as bait.
He wanted her out of the house so he could attack her, and by attacking her, hit back at me.
I lost her as a balm for a psychopath’s wounded pride.
I fall back a few steps, trying to gain control of my whirling thoughts. Trying to come up with a plan, an idea,somethingto act on that amounts to more than trawling the streets, hoping to spot her.
My men can do that in their sleep. Chances are if she’s scared enough to go to ground, they won’t find her.
The sole hope I have is that she knows where I live. Not my phone number. Not so much as an email address. But my house.
With no other idea occurring to me, I waste no time in going home.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
ISABELLE
The walk home is more comfortable than my trek to the skating rink, but my ankle is fed up by the time I draw close. I roll from side to side, pitching and yawing like I’m at sea.
I wish I could walk inside, shut the door, and crawl into bed. Pretend the last week had never happened and fall asleep, safe knowing that nothing in my life matters the slightest bit to anybody.
Maybe in the future that’ll be a possibility. Right now, I still have one last burst of activity left to put things right.
I don’t try to hide. My presence here is meant to be noticed. This is the only place in town I feel secure approaching, knowing that Baxter has eyes on it. Must do, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Why else would he let the man he knows had a hand in kidnapping his daughter stay breathing? Especially when others had been denied that opportunity just by dint of being the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time.
There’s a spare key under the pot plant near the garage. I nudge it out of place with my foot and give a relieved sigh when I see it sitting there. Shiny silver metal. Barely used.
