Cold As Ice: Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 3) (42 page)

Reynolds knew not to give him space and pressed his shoulder into Zheglov’s face while grasping his wrists and pulling apart with every ounce of strength he had.

Zheglov used the momentum of Reynolds’ hands pulling sideways and flung his own hands to the side while twisting his body hard, flipping Reynolds on his back, and gaining the upper hand. Without a nanosecond of hesitation, Vlad began pounding at Reynolds’ head with a furious rage and strength.

This guy was good but not good enough, Vladimir thought. But this has taken way too much time and we don’t have the detective. Finish him fast and get out of here.

He was hurt bad but didn’t stop moving. Kristen could see him clambering through a hole in the bushes as she rushed forward.

No hesitation. Get him.

When she broke through the gap of evergreens, he had got his back to the house and was raising the Desert Eagle to shoot her from a sitting position.

Now or never.

She held the trigger down, letting seven rounds explode from the barrel at near pointblank range.

No question he was dead, but she still moved cautiously, her gun never lowering.

Do I have another round in the barrel?

She kicked him and he slid from the side of the house, splay-legged, flat on his back, the gun a foot beyond his outstretched hand, his eyes staring lifelessly into the night sky.

Her fingers were nearly frozen from throwing her gloves down on the Keltto’s driveway, but she managed to get her hands on the extra clip in her outside pocket while sprinting for the front door. She pulled the spent clip and popped the new one in.

Reynolds curved his spine forward and then backward in a desperate movement, giving him the space to drive his knee into the Zheglov’s groin, loosening the vise-like grip of Vlad’s hands just enough for him to jerk his head forward and head-butt the Russian mobster in the mouth. Blood spurted everywhere, but he hadn’t caught him the nose, which would have immobilized him.

The fight was still on and the man was still on top of him.

Vlad’s mouth was a bloody maw with gaps where teeth were broken off, but he ignored the pain, throwing more tight, controlled, downhill punches. Reynolds jerked his head right and left but some were catching him. He knew the second one well-timed punch broke his jaw, probably finishing what the opening judo punch started. The pounding was taking a toll. Zheglov was sliding his knees up Reynolds’ torso to keep a grip on his body and keep him beneath him.

I should have told Conner what I had to say, Reynolds thought as he jabbed his fingers at Vladimir’s throat, giving him a temporary respite from the onslaught of punches.

I’ve got to get him off me or I’m a dead man.

As Don turned on Mrs. Conner’s street he laughed at himself. Everything’s so quiet. You should have just gone to see Debbie and sign the papers. It might be too late after stopping here. Then he heard a series of booming gunshots. He hit the accelerator, fishtailing left and right, but heading in the right direction.

The last thing his sister said to him was that his skinny partner was going to get him killed. She might be right.

As he braked to a sliding stop in front of the Conner home, he saw that the front door was blown off the hinges. Two uniformed bodies were sprawled on the ground. Conner burst through the front hedge and was racing for the gaping doorway.

Am I too late? I crash through the splintered opening, nearly tripping on the two bodies lying on the tiny living room floor. The bad guy is down but so is Torgerson. I can see her gasping for air like a fish out of water. Then I hear baby Kelsey cry from my mom’s bedroom.

I hear a feral roar and take two jump skips to the hallway.

Vladimir Zheglov was a disciplined fighter. He threw no long, wide-open punches like they show in police dramas. He tightened his elbows even more, protecting his throat and face and helping him keep his balance, no matter what Reynolds did to move him.

Reynolds anticipated Vladimir’s next punch perfectly and sunk his teeth into Zheglov’s wrist, clenching hard enough to loosen teeth in the effort to try to hold it.

Vlad bellowed in pain and yanked it away, losing some skin and tissue. But he didn’t stop punching. His violent world taught him the
simple lesson that you punch until the other guy can’t fight back and then you keep punching until he is dead.

Reynolds knew he was out of options—and strength. Adrenaline could only carry you so far. He lost the fight when he lost top position, he thought ruefully.

Zheglov felt Reynolds’ muscles relax and immediately stopped punching, bringing both hands to Reynolds’ throat for the kill. Amazingly, Reynolds’ hands met them there, stealing precious seconds from Vlad—maybe enough to save Conner’s life, Reynolds thought. When do the reinforcements arrive?

Vlad pressed down as Austin pushed back, fighting every centimeter of the inevitable. His larynx would be crushed and he would be strangled to death. Zheglov’s strength, gravity, and his quickly flagging energy combined to spell his doom.

You don’t quit until it’s over he yelled at himself as he pushed back with a hidden reserve of strength. But Vlad barely budged. His hands were now on Reynolds’ throat. He felt the flow of air being squeezed shut a millimeter at a time by a vice-like grip.

Bam!
With the explosion, Zheglov’s fingers were no longer crushing the life from him.
Bam.
With a second explosion, the Russian mobster slumped forward and rolled on his side next to Reynolds, his mouth and eyes wide open in shocked amazement.

Reynolds looked up. Grace Conner was frozen in place, still in a shooter’s stance, her .38 special pointing at the body.

Kristen and Squires crashed into the hallway a second later, weapons up.

Is it possible to scream with a question mark behind it? If so, I just did. Don and I got to Reynolds as my mom shot Vladimir Zheglov in the back.

Bam. Bam.

“Mommmm!?” was all that came out of my mouth.

85

“MOM, GO MAKE sure Jimmy and Kaylen and the kids are okay. Keep the kids back there, especially James. They can’t see this.”

I am nearly in shock from seeing my mom holding a smoking revolver.

She nods and turns toward the bedroom calm as a lazy summer day.

“Mom.”

She turns back.

I hug her hard and say, “Thanks . . . and good shot.”

I feel her shake as she pulls away to head back and take care of family. Okay, maybe she’s not calm. She might be in shock. But we’ve got a triage center here and there are critical needs to care for.

“Don, you get Torgerson.” I say.

He is calling the situation in and nods. He has a dazed expression that suddenly becomes alert. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

I double-check that Zheglov is dead and turn to Reynolds. He is breathing strong and steady. There is blood coming from facial wounds. I’m not sure where to start or what to touch with the wicked angle of his fractured jawline.

I breathe him in and lower my lips to his ear.

“I love you.”

I have no clue if he heard that. Maybe that’s why I said it now. Sirens are getting louder as help draws near. He’s hurt bad but he’s alive. They’ll know what to do. I don’t.

“Is Heather alive?” I call to Squires.

“Yes. But it’s bad,” he answers grimly. “How about Reynolds?”

“I think he’s okay. I’m going to head outside and check the uniforms.”

Man oh man.

Was this my fault? Did I not take things seriously enough? Did I get four people killed or seriously injured? What if Don had been two minutes earlier and Reynolds two minutes later? No doubt, Don is tough and capable, but no way could he have handled what I suspect Reynolds just did. I might have been attending my partner’s funeral and having to look Vanessa in the eyes.

I hate leaving Reynolds, but he’s going to live. I walk past Torgerson. There is a lot of blood flowing out, despite Don’s makeshift compress using his sweat jacket. I reach over to the couch and grab the first thing I touch, a quilt, and press it to her stomach to help stanch the blood flow. I think my great-grandma made the quilt like a hundred years ago. It’s a valuable family heirloom I’ve been told. Never knew much about great-grandma, but I’m sure she’d understand. Hopefully my mom will too.

I walk outside to the uniforms. I’m afraid to look. The first ambulance pulls in. Hope there’s more than a couple EMTs. I’d even welcome Thad, the guy with the knockout syringe, with open arms.