My eyes scan their way from the gun to the bloody heap of my husband in the corner of the room. His dead eyes stare up at me, and I shiver violently. "Fuck you, Pavel," I mutter to his dying corpse. God, I've been waiting so long to say that.
Ten years to be exact.
Tenfuckingyears.
Tears fill my eyes, and I allow myself a moment to grieve…not for the bastard who's lying dead before me, but for the childhood that he had stolen from me.
I catch movement in my peripheral, and I notice that the curtains on the balcony at the hotel across the street are moving. I stare for a silent moment, holding my breath, but no one emerges. I can't afford any witnesses right now. The gun trembles in my unsteady hand, but I know I would pull the trigger again in a heartbeat. I have been planning this escape ever since I was a young girl, waiting and waiting for the chance, andnothingwill get in my way.
Leaving behind most of my belongings, I scramble for my purse and tuck the gun inside. I need to get rid of the evidence somewhere far from here.
Dragging on a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved shirt, forgoing a bra and underwear, I pull the strap of my purse around my body and head for the balcony. I find a pair of sandals by the open door and slip them inside my bag instead of putting them on, because I'm going to need to keep my footing for where I'm going next.
By now, some people, having heard the gunshots, are probably calling hotel management, who in turn are calling the police. I need to get the hell out of here, and I can't risk being seen going through the hallways and lobby.
Having scoped the property out the moment we got to the hotel, I know that there is a fire escape at the corner of the building, a few rooms down from this one. I just need to crawl over the adjacent rooms' balconies to reach it. And then I'm home free.
Steeling my nerves, I crawl and jump over the cement and glass barriers until I reach the steel platform of the fire escape. Swinging my nimble body around the corner of the building, my hands grab the railing and pull myself up and over the railing. Then my legs carry me down the steps as quickly and carefully as I can, only slipping a few times.
At the bottom, there is a bit of a drop-off, but I'm willing to chance anything at this point. Lowering myself down on the bottom rung of the ladder, I swing and tuck and roll as I reach the ground.
I roll onto the gravel, skinning my hands and knees up pretty good, but I'm not hurt other than a few minor cuts and scrapes. Pulling my sandals from my purse, I slip them on my feet. Then, I turn towards the dark alley, intending to run, when my face collides with a wall of muscle.
As I stare up at the tall, handsome man with piercing steel-gray eyes, I know I'm in trouble.
CHAPTER 4
JACKSON
SHE'S EVEN MORE beautiful up closeis my first thought.
And my second thought — just as the woman raises her leg and knees me right in the crotch — isholy fuck, that hurts!
And just like a thief in the night, the woman disappears between buildings while I'm standing there in agony doubled over with my hand planted against the brick wall of the hotel.
Sucking in a deep breath and trying not to puke, I take a few seconds to gather myself, and my sore balls, before retreating back to my rental car parked on the street. I loaded my suitcases while the daring trapeze artist climbed over balconies and maneuvered down a fire escape. She's like some sort of hot ninja, and holy shit, her kicks are definitely lethal.
Kicking the car into reverse, I place a hand on the headrest of the passenger seat, look over my shoulder and floor it.
I know these streets like the back of my hand, and I'm guessing that my little fugitive does not. If she did, she would know that she's running straight toward the docks and, thus, a dead end.
Squealing to a skidding stop, I whip the wheel and put the car in drive, racing down a dark, narrow street, dodging the occasional tourist out on a nightly stroll.
The water comes into view as I ease up on the gas. Throwing the car in park, I dig into my medical bag in the passenger seat and prepare a syringe full of sedative just in case. I don't have a plan of action in place. I'm just going to go with the flow at this point.
I take a moment to breathe while filling the syringe, letting out an unsteady breath. I've never actually chased anyone before. And holy shit, the rush is incredible. My heart is beating hard in an erratic rhythm against my ribcage while the adrenaline rushes through my veins.
Tucking the capped needle into my jacket pocket, I step out of the car and look towards where the woman should be coming out of. The way she ran should lead her right to me.
I duck in behind a dumpster. Watching. Waiting. A thrill of excitement shoots through me and straight to my heavy cock, which still throbs in pain from when she kneed me in the nuts.
I hear her before I see her. Her panicked breaths escape her lungs in the quiet night as she runs straight towards me. Like an animal stalking its prey, I stay low and quiet and wait for the perfect moment to strike.
As soon as I see her pass by me in a blur, I stand up and chase her. It doesn't take more than a few strides before she's in my arms, her back to my chest. I lift her up off the ground, and she struggles, but she doesn't scream.
Holding her tightly against me, stealing her breath, I whisper in her ear, "I saw what you did."
My words affect her, and she stops struggling, but only for a moment. "Let me go!" she demands.
