Page 6 of Warlord’s Empire

She started moving again, flinching at the explosion of broken glass as a stack of dishes hit the floor. They were threatening to kill everyone if they didn’t give her up. God, she hoped the kitchen staff wouldn’t out her, but at the same time, she understood. None of them owed her anything and why would they die for her?

The ideal scenario was the bad guys going straight out the back door while van guy ran around the front of the building to see if she went that way.

Crouching by the storage room, she braced her shoulder against the heavy door, then crawled through the small gap she’d made. She softly closed the door behind her, then turned her attention to the muffled shouting on the other side.

Where was the hotel’s security? Whenever she stayed at this hotel, she spotted them everywhere. It’s part of the reason the Prime Minister’s office liked to book it. She didn’t remember seeing them at all as she was running through the lobby.

She turned and found herself looking at shadows created by a set of dim utility lights high up on the wall. She squinted, thinking she could see stairs and moved forward, her arms outstretched against the wall as she tried to walk cautiously but also speedily. She needed to find a place to hide, and quick.

A high scream from the kitchen had her gasping. Oh god, were they hurting someone?

The rush of adrenalin shooting through her made her move faster and less cautiously. She stumbled when she hit the stairs and almost pitched headfirst down them. She held the knife tighter as she clutched the railing to steady herself while she scrambled downward into the dark. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the storage room door crashed open.

She braced her back against the wall and used her arms to guide her as she moved as fast as she dared. Her hands touched metal, then bags of something. Shelves filled with kitchen supplies.

“Saskia Koba, we will find you.” Light flooded the basement and the thundering of feet came rushing toward her.

They knew her name. Why did they know her name? Who were these guys?

She turned but was greeted by a dead end. There was nowhere to go and nowhere to hide.

One of the thugs, the couch guy, advanced on her, a gun in his hand.

“Saskia Koba.” His voice held satisfaction.

She lifted her chin and forced calm into her voice as she said in Russian, “If you know who I am then you know what’ll happen to you if you hurt me.”

He grinned at her, showing a gap in his teeth. “We’re not worried. We’ll be protected.”

“The Bratva does terrible things to traitors,” she snapped, hoping her bravado would work. The other guy, the one who’d been going through her hotel fridge, joined them.

“We do not answer to the Bratva,” Couch guy said.

Saskia clutched the knife with both hands and waved it back and forth between her attackers. “Get away from me.”

Fridge guy smirked and showed her his gun. “You brought a knife to a gun fight.”

“Nice one, Indie,” she said sarcastically. “Why don’t you go raid some tombs instead of picking on me? If you know who I am, then you know who Jozef Koba is. He’s on his way and he’s not going to be happy if you hurt me.”

Hearing Jozef’s name made Fridge guy pause, but not for long. “Koba isn’t here, little girl. There’s no one to save you.”

A shudder slid down her spine. “Then why don’t you come and get me? You have me trapped, defenseless.” Except the knife, which was shaking in her hands. She’d have to steady herself if she were to have any chance of fighting her way out.

The thugs exchanged uneasy glances. Saskia thought she understood. They’d managed to kill Aurelia without drawing attention. After chasing Saskia through a hotel, past a bunch of kitchen staff and into a basement, they weren’t going to be able to do her quietly.

“Come with us,” Fridge guy said, reaching for her.

Idiot.

She slashed the knife and connected with his forearm.

White of bone flashed as his flesh split open. He screamed and lurched back, his fingers clutching the gaping wound spewing blood.

Couch guy lunged at her, knocking the knife from her hand as he slammed her into a shelf. She hit her head so hard she blacked out for a few seconds. When she came to, she was on her back, her satchel trapped underneath her, Couch guy standing over her, his gun pointed at her head.

“Not here,” Fridge guy said weakly as he cradled his bleeding arm close to his chest.

“There’s no choice,” Couch guy said. “We have to get the job done. Boss will clean up after.”