Page 13 of The Stalking King

Then I text Lia again.

Maksim: You’re doing a great job. I know you’re scared, but this will help me get the people who threatened your friend and ran that man off the road. And yes, this will help ME, but you don’t have to do it for that reason.

I watch as she reads the text. Her shoulders tighten and then relax. There’s something dangerously intoxicating about watching her from a distance, just like through the CCTV. It’s like I’m there but not there. With her but not with her. It’s the only safe form of connection—if that word means anything here—for a man like me…

Which makes me a hypocrite for insisting on taking on this job myself.

But I need it done right. If someone hurt her and I send one of my men…

I’d never forgive myself. Worse—for my guard—I’d never forgive him either.

Finally, I spot a hooded figure stalking across the street. I move slowly. Then Lia leaps from her car and waves her arms at the man. Her voice carries across the street.

“You think I’m scared of you?” she yells. “I’ve been through worse than a standoff with a lowlife like you!”

I admire her even as I wish she would’ve stayed in the car. The man jogs toward her. I move faster, rushing until I’m right behind him. He turns when he hears me. His face is in shadow, but I recognize Eli Flemmings, Conrad’s ghost-faced fixer.

His hand goes to his pocket. My instincts kick in. Thirteen years of sambo, a Russian martial art similar to MMA. I leap forward and punch him in the face, grab his shirt, and kick out his leg so he falls to the ground. I collapse on him, establishing control.

He bellows when I grab one of his arms and twist it with an Americana. His shoulder makes a loud pop as it dislocates.

He roars out in pain. I keep pressure on him.

Lia rushes to the other side, diving on his legs, laying herself across them to stop him from thrashing.

“What are you doing?” I growl, though a delirious grin on my lips.

This fierce, beautiful woman might be just as crazy as I am.

“Helping,” she hisses. “You got a problem with that?”

A moment later, a car pulls up, screeching to a stop. Anton leaps out, one of my most trusted generals. He’s bald on top, covered in swirling tattoos, with a short beard. He takes out a gun and presses it against Eli’s head.

“No more struggle,” Anton growls in a heavy Russian accent. “Time to go.”

Content that he’s got it under control, I stand. Lia bolts to her feet and stares in disbelief as Anton drags Eli into the trunk of the car and drives away.

She turns to me, shock on her face. Her eyes are glistening like she’s holding back tears.

I don’t plan it. I probably don’t have any right. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave her there looking like she’s on the verge of tears.

I take her shoulders and pull her against me. She lets this happen for what feels like a long time. It’s probably only a second or two, but it means a lot. She wraps her arms around me and pulls herself in. But then she pushes me away.

“What the hell is going on?” she hisses.

“Not here,” I grunt. “We need to leave. Now.”

“But—”

“Do you want more trouble at work?” I demand. “It’s a miracle nobody saw us.”

She looks around the parking lot, her mouth falling open in shock when she realizes I’m right. It’s like she didn’t remember where we were until I pointed it out.

She moves toward her car.

I quickly step into her path. She stares up at me, expressive eyes full of fire and pain. But there aren’t any tears clinging to her anymore. She just looks angry.

“I thought I had to leave?” she snaps.