Jordan’s pressed so close, I can feel her fast but steady breathing. She stares with huge eyes, but she isn’t screaming or breaking. She holds herself together.
My brain tightens to a pinpoint as I race through scenarios in my head. Three armed men against Jordan and me. We have no way to call for help.
I tip my head back to scan the desk.
Cut-glass pen holder. Leather blotter. Green banker’s lamp. Bronze bull paperweight.
The lead guy’s coming up on the right. Three steps. Two.
I catch Jordan’s eyes and mouth a single word.Stay.
She nods before flattening to the floor.
I rise up just enough, snag the bull, and sling six pounds of bronze over the desk.
My aim is true.
It hits Dracula’s wrist with a dull, wet crack. He yelps, and his pistol clatters to the hardwood and slides.
Before the other two can react, I vault the desk, my body operating on autopilot. The moment I land, I drop in a crouch, sweep out a leg, and snag the ankle of the closest man.
He falls hard. Once his head cracks against the corner of the desk, he doesn’t move again.
Even with him temporarily unconscious, I’m still outnumbered.
Adrenaline rushes my system as I finish shedding any remaining facade of civility.
Let’s have some fun, boys.
Chapter 33
Kirill
The third man—taller and broader, with a wisp of a moustache on his face—steps right over his downed partner.
The way he adjusts his stance is fluid. Economical.
Professional.
His gaze tracks my chest as if mapping out entry points for bullet holes.
Dracula, meanwhile, cradles his mangled wrist but doesn’t back off.
They close in on me from opposite sides, working together to drive me into a kill box.
A standard two-man takedown. Pin. Overwhelm. Subdue.
Moustache goes high with a wide right cross meant to snag my eye, thrust up my guard, and draw my defense.
Meanwhile, Dracula drops low, aiming a shoulder tackle at my knees.
If they manage the move, I’m finished.
I handle the low man first.
Always protect the base, because once you lose your legs, the fight’s already over.
I pivot, delivering a side kick straight into the injured guy’s shoulder. My foot lands heavy, full of kinetic promise.
