He regards me, still as a reptile. “Don’t make things difficult. If you keep on this way, I’ll really have no choice.”
“No choice but what? To kick me again? Take some neighbors hostage?”Just a little more time with my knife…
“How about your cat?”
I go still, trying to hear Señor Mittens.
“Cutting off his toes would be motivating, don’t you think? Or perhaps his tail, say…an inch at a time?”
Outrage and dread flood through me. That poor cat already lost a toe. He shouldn’t have to lose more because this subhuman trash is a psychopath. “Stay away from my cat, asshole!”
“Or how about your boyfriend? He’s coming, you know. I texted him from your phone. Most men dread hearing their women say, ‘We need to talk,’ but he seemed eager. I imagine he thinks he’s getting you back.”
Ohshit. Noah is undoubtedly capable. An experienced, in-demand operative. But he doesn’t know he’s walking into a trap. Even if I scream, it’ll be too late.
I can’t let him be ambushed. My knife cuts through the last of the twisted tape.Finally!
“I didn’t come this far to fail, Bobbi. My buyer is an impatient man. One way or another, you’re going to give me those dossiers.”
Trey is watching me too closely. I’ll never get a chance to free my legs before he shoots me.
Time for Plan B.
I smirk. “Trey, that bit about being a war vet was pretty good. Gotta admit, I didn’t see you coming. But now you’re starting to disappoint me.”
His eyes narrow. "What do you mean?”
“Oh my God, theyallsay, ‘I didn’t come this far to fail.’ It’s like in the B-movie evildoer training manual or something.”
“I warn you, Bobbi—”
“But people fail all the time. What’s the big deal? And why are you still chasing after some dossiers that don’t even exist? You must’ve made a fortune selling your country out. What have you done with all that money? Lose it betting on horses?” He frowns, and hopeful anticipation swells—along with a dread that this isreallygoing to hurt. I brace myself. I’m not going to go quietly. “No, wait. I know—you squandered it all because you want to live larger than you’re capable of! Expensive cars and wine. Maybe expensive women, too… I mean, nobody would want you unless you paid. And now this is your one big shot. You think you can get back to where you want to be with one last big score. Right?”
“You have no idea what you’re—”
“You know what? Even if you’re right and I’m British and know where the dossiers are, I’m not giving them to a loser like—”
“Shut up!”
He kicks me in the gut again,hard. Holyfuck, it hurts! Raw adrenaline pumps in my veins. I curl up, and he keeps kicking everywhere he can reach—my hips, back, and head. I roll around to lessen the impact and to make it harder for him to see what I’m doing and cut at the tape around my ankles. Don’t have to be as careful with the blade since my leather boots provide protection.
As soon as my legs are free, I swivel on the floor like a break dancer and kick him as hard as I can, catching him behind the knee. Shock flares in his eyes, and he crashes down. A shot fires from his gun, and a hole appears in the ceiling above us.
I slash at his right wrist hard, making him drop the gun. I kick it away, then thrust the knife at his eye. He twists, and the tip of the blade cuts a jagged gash on his temple.
“Cunt!” he screams. “I’ll kill your boyfriend in front of you, make you tell me where the fucking docs are, then kill you and your goddamn cat, too!”
He grabs my wrist, his thumb digging into the cuts. Pain burns, and my grip on the knife loosens. It falls with a clatter, but before he can jump on it, I kick it away.
We both regain our feet. Blood dripping from his face, he swings. I duck, then kick, aiming for the same knee but getting the shin. He curses, then lunges at me, the limp completely gone. His fist connects with my face hard enough to jar my brain. Something hot drips from my nose, leaving a coppery tang on my lips. Great, a fucking nosebleed.
We close, and I get in a good hard shot with my elbow to his sternum. Grunting, he twists to take himself off center-line and tangles his legs with mine to limit my leverage. We struggle, lose balance and collapse on the floor in a bloody heap.
The second we hit, I use our momentum to roll him onto his back and unload another elbow into his face, all my bodyweight behind it. In my peripheral vision is the gun he dropped. It’s not close, but probably within reach if I lunge for it. If I grab it, it’s game over. But he notices where my eyes have gone, and sees the gun too. And his arms are longer.
We both pounce. His hand closes over it before mine as he kicks me away.
He rolls, the gun pointed at me. Deadly exhilaration lights his eyes, while my head screams,Fuck fuck fuck!
