Georgia stopped, instinct telling her she’d gone as far as she could. “You’ll have to take her,” she said to the other woman. Georgia removed Holly’s arm from across her shoulders and placed it across the other woman’s instead. “I can’t go any closer.”
“Wait, where are you going?” Holly blurted, voice tight with fear.
“I’ll wait here until you enter the police station. Just tell them the truth about everything that happened—except that one of our guys was hurt.” The cops would start figuring out things soon enough. The team didn’t need them showing up at the hospital already linking Heath to the op.
She gave a terse nod at the other side of the street. “Go.”
The two women hesitated, looked at each other, then started off. At the corner they stopped. Holly turned back to call to her. “Wait, what’s your name?”
Georgia shook her head and jerked her chin at the police station. The less they knew about her and the others, the better. The team was going to have enough problems trying to cover up this shit show as it was.
She waited until the women had struggled up the concrete steps and entered the station before whirling and running back to the car. Miguel had pulled up behind a building just out of sight. He threw open the door for her and she jumped in. “They’re in?” he asked.
“Yes.” She strapped on her seatbelt, anger burning deep in her gut. They’d been so close to pulling off a perfect op. Had been moments from getting out of there unscathed. Losing Heath was a blow to the entire team, and Chloe…
Jesus, Chloe was going to fucking explode when she found out.
****
Kiyomi dropped the balaclava and straightened to face Tarasov.
This wasn’t how she and the rest of the team had planned to do this, but with Marcus and Chloe taking on the handful of security personnel upstairs, she’d seen the bodyguard appear at the top of the stairs and gone after him, knowing he would be protecting Tarasov.
And not a second too soon, because Tarasov had been about to enter this room. If she hadn’t made her move when she had, she would have lost her only shot.
Now the two of them were trapped in here together. At least no one else could get in the way. And in the meantime, Marcus and Chloe could more than handle whatever happened upstairs.
Tarasov’s eyes flared in shock as he stared at her.
“…yomi… are you?” Marcus’s worried, disjointed voice came through her earpiece. By now he would be clearing the second floor with Chloe. This room must have seriously thick walls to interfere with the signal.
She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, ready for anything.
More static hissed in her ear. Urgent words from Marcus, then Trinity. The noise was too distracting. Irritating. Like the hair-raising scrape of fingernails on a blackboard.
A quick tap turned off the earpiece. As silence engulfed her, her focus narrowed to the enemy waiting across the small room.
Seeing him up close was harder than she’d expected. Reminding her of the night she’d found Julia. Seeing what the animals had done to her.
Ruthlessly, she blocked the rush of emotion, shoving the memories and feelings into a vault at the back of her mind. She had to stay sharp. Couldn’t let emotion cloud her mind for even an instant.
She’d already taken down two men to get to him. Much as she craved being able to avenge Julia by killing Tarasov here and now, she had promised Marcus she wouldn’t. Besides, a predator like Tarasov would suffer far more by going to prison. There he would finally taste karmic justice and experience what it was like to be preyed upon.
He was crouched on the balls of his feet as he stared at her, tattooed hands up in a fighting stance that told her he was used to using his fists.
She sized him up, letting her hatred for him wash over her. He and his Bratva brethren were all thugs, trained to fight dirty and take what they wanted.
But with his weapon lying outside this locked room and no one to save him, it was down to hand-to-hand. While he had the advantage in size and strength, she was fast, and trained in skills he could only imagine.
Confusion flared in his dark eyes for a moment. “Who the hell are you?” he bit out, his accent holding a slight British edge.
“You’re about to find out,” she answered, her blood pumping, muscles warm and limber. She feinted toward him. He dodged right, eyeing her warily, scanning her for a weapon.
She feinted again. He moved to the other side, anger stamped into his features. She had a blade strapped to her calf, but she wasn’t pulling it unless it was absolutely necessary. In this confined space, a knife could be turned on her in the heat of a fight.
Realizing that she was taunting him, his face reddened, the muscles beneath his trimmed beard bunching. “You got a death wish, bitch?”
His expression said it all. He arrogantly assumed he had the upper hand because he was a man, knew some Krav Maga and a few other street fighting tricks.
Well, she knew all that too. And a lot more besides.
Letting action speak for her, she dropped down and kicked his feet out from under him. He hit the floor hard on his ass but leapt to his feet in a practiced motion, fury contorting his features.
Do it, she silently taunted him.
With a bellow of rage he came at her.
She ducked the tight punch he threw at her face, used his momentum against him and caught him upside the head with a quick elbow as he pivoted. He staggered sideways, his shoulder crashing into the wall while she danced back and readied herself for another attack.
He pivoted to face her again, baring his teeth in a feral snarl.
He didn’t realize it, but his ego posed the greatest danger to him. Soon enough he would lose his cool because he wasn’t gaining the upper hand against her and make a mistake.
The moment he did, she would seize the advantage and stab him with the loaded syringe waiting in her thigh pocket. Eden had loaded a dose strong enough to knock him out within five seconds, and keep him out for fifteen to twenty minutes.
Kiyomi held his hateful stare, ready for whatever he dished out. Yeah, come on. Come at me and see what happens.
She tensed when someone pounded on the other side of the door. “Luka!” the muffled male voice shouted, barely audible through the soundproofing.
Tarasov lunged forward to throw a hook at her jaw, his other fist going in for a jab at her ribs. She ducked, blocked the jab with her forearm and danced out of range.
Before she could reset, he reached to the side and hit a switch on the wall. The lights went out, plunging them into blackness.
Now it was real.
She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him. Could hear his quickened breathing and sense his movement as he shifted to her right. She reached a hand down, going for her thigh pocket.
The door suddenly clicked open, the narrow strip of light revealing Tarasov still across the room from her, and a man entering the room.
If he got in it would be two against one, and even with her blade, in this confined space, she would be in trouble.
Kiyomi ran at the door and slammed her weight into it, crushing the man in the opening as he tried to enter. He howled, jerked back and disappeared from view. She reached out with her foot to kick the door shut and started to turn to face Tarasov, but he slammed into her from behind.
He drove her into the wall with his big body, his coffee-scented breath hot on her cheek. “I won’t kill you yet, malyshka,” he purred in her ear. “But by the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish I had.”