He releases a scream and jerks away while clawing at my face with his free hand.
Where’s your knife now, buddy?
I’m too busy keeping his talons away from my eyes to pull my own gun or knife. As I wrestle with his weight against mine, though, I spot potential salvation.
“Trinity, open that door!”
It takes her a second to realize what I mean. When she does, she races to the side of the car and yanks the handle, grunting with the effort of pulling the heavy metal aside.
As the train picks up speed, the wind whistling against our clothes draws Andrei’s attention.
Stupid mistake.
His distraction allows me the chance to land three quick hits straight to his face. Warm blood spurts across my knuckles as he groans.
The scent of rust wars with the fresh air whipping through the luggage car.
Andrei and I struggle in our battle for the upper hand. With all these suitcases, room is limited, but I manage to wrestle him closer and closer to the open doors, hitting and kicking and headbutting whenever I get the opportunity.
We probably resemble two kids on the playground at recess more than a couple of trained MMA fighters, but even if my moves don’t look impressive, theyareeffective.
The door hovers inches out of my reach.
I need to push Andrei off this train without him taking me along for the ride.
Too bad he wants to do the same to me.
As we near the edge, Andrei twists the fingers of his good hand into my shirt, using every ounce of his strength to manhandle me toward the opening.
For a second, I’m halfway out of the train, my already injured leg dangling out of the car.
Fear lances through me, colder than the biting wind.
If I hit the ground at this speed, I probably won’t die, but it will hurt like hell.
Good thing Andrei only has one good arm, and I’ve still got two.
I brace one elbow around the doorway, locking myself in place, and close my free hand around Andrei’s neck, choking him the way he choked Trinity.
See how this fucker likes it. Maybe he’ll stick with picking on someone his own size next time.
He tries to cling to my shirt and evict me, but instinct overpowers human will, and in a matter of seconds, he’s clawing at my hand instead of my clothes.
Once his grip weakens, I yank with all my strength and hurl him out.
If he yells, the wind swallows the noise whole.
Panting, I pull myself back into the car and roll onto the floor with a groan.
Shit. It’s over. Good thing, too, because my leg smarts.
“Brody!” Trinity crouches beside me, her hands fluttering over my torso. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding. Shit, your mouth?—”
“I’ve had worse.” I swipe my hand over my lips and grimace at the blood that comes away. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
She shakes her head, those copper waves flying. “No, I’m fine.” She glances at the still-open side of the train. “Do you think he’ll live?”
I sit up and scrub my hand through my hair. “Probably. Fucker’s like a cat. But he should stay down for at least a few days.”
