The tight narrow aisles of the market made it difficult to see the source of the panic.
“Viktor,” I called out.
There was another crash, and then the overhead string lights in one corner of the market went dark. More screams, and a crowd of people burst around the corner and scattered in all directions.
Then I saw them. Viktor was battling furiously with a man dressed all in black, whose face was covered by a black balaclava. Their movements resembled kung fu, all measured twists and high, precise kicks. They were moving so fast, ducking and hitting, using everything around them to damage each other, that it was hard to keep up. A heavy cooking pot, a mirror and dangling scarves all became makeshift weapons. The masked fighter threw a table at Viktor, but Viktor ducked behind a pole and the full weight of the table crashed against the pole, bringing it down with sparks and strings of lights. Now the man had part of a light cord wrapped around Viktor’s neck from behind, but Viktor did this crazy flip, and then he was choking the man.
Someone’s booth got completely destroyed when Viktor’s opponent ran along the wall and kicked out a pole. It was a flurry of limbs, and the man was using part of that pole as a weapon. He was distracted when the roof of the flimsy booth crashed around him, but he swung from an overhead beam and landed on his feet. Viktor did this dive-kick thing and took him out from below the knees before twisting the guy between his legs. He almost had him pinned before the guy did some crazy twist and half ran up another beam before flipping himself over Viktor’s head.
I stood there, frozen, unable to process how violently and quickly they were moving. One wrong move and it would go very badly for someone. I was terrified for Viktor.
I looked around in desperation, trying to think of some way to help him.
But before I could think of any options, the crack of gunfire echoed into the air. Everyone froze, including Viktor and his assailant.
And then the man took off in the opposite direction.
Viktor looked wildly around before settling his gaze on mine. Then he was running toward me. Not a jog, not a saunter. He was sprinting.
A cry ripped out of me when he grabbed my hand and roughly yanked me behind him. “Run, Blaire.”
I struggled to keep up with him. I pumped my legs hard and my breath was stuck in my ribs, but I felt like I was being towed behind a horse. Viktor was dragging me through aisles and around corners while my bag flapped behind me.
I felt myself trip and lose my balance. I pitched forward and staggered awkwardly before landing hard on my knees. I could feel the pavement tear at my skin, but Viktor’s strong hold kept the rest of me off the ground.
He spun around and lifted me back to my feet like I weighed nothing. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I winced as I gingerly put weight on my legs. Everything below my knees was throbbing in a generalized pain.
He looked too serious. “Blaire, we have to run.”
I didn’t think I could move my body that quickly again. “I can’t.”
He kept looking above us. “Wrong answer.”
“I’ll try.”
“Stay close to me.”
My whole body hurt as I scrambled after him, but we finally got past the high, ornate market gates and burst onto the street. A long line of cabs waited.
Looking over his shoulder, he hustled me toward a cab. “Go, go, go.”
We clambered in, and I tried to quell my shaking body and panicked breaths.
“Drive,” Viktor ordered the driver.
We didn’t speak. I hunched fearfully down on the seat and listened as Viktor gave the taxi driver instructions.
“Turn here.”
“Go left, all the way to the lights.”
“Keep going.”
He made the driver do circles around the city before finally dropping us off near our hotel.
When we got out of the cab, my body had stiffened up so much I was limping.
He tucked me under his arm. “Almost there.”
In the hotel room, he led me to sit on the side of my bed before he drew the curtains. He stood between the curtains and stared into the darkness. The thought that he was looking for some sightless enemy made me really scared again.
“Are we safe?”
He moved through the dark and kneeled in front of me before he reached over and turned on the bedside lamp.
“We’re safe.”
My hands flew to my mouth when I saw the state of his face. He had a bleeding cut above his eye, and one of his eyes was starting to swell. There was also a large gash across his cheekbone that trickled blood before he had smeared it away.
“Viktor.”
He avoided my eyes. “It looks worse than it is. Tell me where it hurts.”
I looked down at the two scrapes on my knees. They stung, but they weren’t even bleeding anymore. “I’m fine.”
I watched as his big hand gently touched the top of one of my knees with care. Why was he worrying about me and my tiny scratches?
I took another look at his injured face and then promptly burst into tears.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VIKTOR
She was crying. Fuck.
I froze for a long moment as I debated how best to help her. In the end, I sat beside her. Then I wrapped my arm around her while she sobbed against my chest.
“You’re hurt,” she cried. “And it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. And I’m not hurt that bad. No need to cry.”
She lifted her head and gave me a watery look. “Have you seen your face?”
A short laugh punctured out of my sore ribs like a hammer. Goddamn, my body ached. That fight had been fucking brutal. That little ninja fucker had caught me off guard, and within moments of his attack I was in way over my head. All of my moves had been defensive. Most of that battle had been a fight just to stay alive.
Worse, while the guy kicked my ass, he had systematically pushed me and the fight further and further away from Blaire. It had taken everything I had to steer the fight back toward her.
Working not to groan, I stood up to get my bag. I kneeled before Blaire and pulled out my medical kit.
“What are you doing?”
“Stitching up my comrade.”
“I’m not the one who needs medical attention.”
I shushed her. “Let me do my work. It’s important.”
She watched me with big eyes while I carefully cleaned the scrapes on her knees and put a couple Band-Aids over the worst of it.
“Do you feel better?” I looked up at her.
With a soft cry, she launched herself at me, buried her face into my neck and breathed, “I was so scared to watch you fight.”
I wrapped my arms around her and then stood up, lifting her with me, ignoring how much it hurt my ribs to do that. Why does it feel so good to have her in my arms? I would cross no lines tonight, but would it hurt anyone if I comforted her?
I sat back down on my bed and pulled her pliant body down with me as I lay back. We didn’t speak as I rolled her onto her side and then curled my body protectively around her.
She snuggled tight against me and sighed deeply.
I allowed myself the luxury of burying my face into the back of her hair, deeply inhaling her feminine scent.
Tonight had been a shit show—and a preview of how bad tomorrow would really be. I was pretty damn good at hand-to-hand combat, but it was a miracle I hadn’t been killed. My attacker hadn’t held back. He had been trying to end my life, and he had come close a few times.