To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) (52 page)

Relief fluttered in her chest when he dropped the gun on his lap with a huff and turned his attention back to the road. Nikol’s shoulder slammed against the door when Sergei pulled hard on the wheel and swung the car around to make a second pass along the avenue where one of the informants had spotted Ivanov. Nikol hit the answer on the car’s bluetooth system when Sergei’s phone buzzed.

“Sergei?” An unfamiliar voice burst across the speakers.

“
Da.
What is it, Yury? I do not have time for your whining.”

Yury stammered. “I thought I was supposed to handle the collections today at the market. Did you pull me?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sergei spat.

“I just saw Dmitriy walking into the market. Why would you send a nerd to do my job? You told me this was mine.”

Sergei eased back in his seat and a curtain of calm settled across his expression. “You saw Dmitriy? At Udelnaya?”

“Yes. I just said that. Should I leave?”

“No. Follow him. I am on my way.” Sergei’s hand shot out and gripped Nikol by the back of the neck. He yanked her by the hair toward him and planted a bruising kiss on her lips. Nikol jerked back, wincing in pain and pulling at the seatbelt that had cut into her shoulder. Sergei laughed at the disgust he must have seen in her eyes and narrowed his own. “You will learn to like my kisses.”

Fury almost choked her, but Nikol held her tongue. Sergei’s temper was uncontrollable. To provoke him further in the speeding car could quite possibly leave her brain splattered on the window. Sergei punched the gas and the car surged forward in the direction of the Udelnaya flea market and his prey. The time had come. Nikol began to strategize her next move in the deadly game she had been playing most of her career.

Nikol’s hands were slightly cramped from the death grip she had on the dashboard and the “oh shit” handle above the passenger window. The streets were filled with heavy midafternoon traffic, and Sergei, in his fury to reach the flea market, almost rear-ended every double-parked car and ran every red light they encountered.

Mother of God!
Nikol squeezed her eyes shut as Sergei planted his foot on the pedal and accelerated through another red light, swerving around the white semi pulling into the intersection. When the truck’s horn sounded, Nikol could have sworn that her life passed before her eyes. She was not impressed. When she could pry her eyelids apart, she glanced at Sergei from the corner of her eye. The grim set of his mouth and grip on the steering wheel said it all. He was pissed—rip-roaring pissed—and out for blood.

Skidding to a stop in front of the market, Sergei killed the engine and barreled out of the car. Curses rolled from her lips as she struggled with the seatbelt and bolted after him. Nikol tracked him as he ran into the market, talking urgently on the phone.

She picked up her pace, following Sergei through the obstacle course of merchandise, clotheslines, and tourists. Adrenaline was her fuel. She couldn’t let him find Dmitriy and Ivanov on his own. If so, they were dead men, and valuable information would slip through her fingers. With a burst of determination, Nikol caught up to Sergei. “Do you know where he is?”

Sergei slowed to a walk and she followed suit. He scanned the place, searching for his targets. “This way.” A wicked gleam shone in his eyes, a sick sneer pulled at the corner of his mouth.

He inched his hand into his jacket and she heard the cocking of his gun. Nikol’s heart raced, her breathing accelerated. She was aware of each movement, each patron around them. The hustle and bustle of the market sounded loud to her ears. Unsure of Sergei’s plans, she followed his example and palmed the grip of her HK concealed under her jacket as she waited for the right time to act.

*****

Dmitriy took the last box from Tatiana and set it in the trunk of the dilapidated older model Lada Riva.

“That’s the last of it.” Tatiana brushed her hands off on her torn skirt. “We can leave now.” Her voice was tight and strained.

He turned and gave her an encouraging smile. “Stay here. I will get Ivanov.”

“No. I am coming with you. With my help we can move him faster.”

Dmitriy smiled broadly and grasped her hand. “Come then.” Turning to Yakov, he called out, “We will be right back with Ivanov.”

“His wound will need a thorough cleaning as soon as we get to the farm,” Tatiana worried.

Suddenly, she jerked his arm and Dmitriy looked over his shoulder at her. Tatiana’s hand covered her mouth and her eyes were wide open. “What’s wrong?” He turned his head in the direction she was staring and his heart bottomed out—Sergei. And he had company. His eyes darted to Ivanov and, on contact, he could see that Ivanov also realized something was up by their expressions. Dmitriy waved his hand behind him and hissed, “Run Tatiana.
Run!

The sound of her pounding feet disappeared in the distance about the same time a loud group of Japanese tourists following their guide hurdled down the path toward Sergei and became the perfect cover. Dmitriy stooped low and, mingling with the crowd, hurried to Ivanov’s side.

“What is it?” Ivanov rasped, pain coating his every word as Dmitriy looped his arm over his shoulder in a rush to get out of there before Sergei saw them.

“Sergei,” Dmitriy responded under his breath.

“Fuck! We must have been spotted.” Ivanov flashed the sweater showing the gun tucked in his waistband. “Tell me when.” Ivanov hissed through his teeth.

Dmitriy gave a slight shake of his head. “No, Ivanov. He is not alone. We need to go, now!” Dmitriy helped him to his feet. As they straightened, the tourists who had been their shield moved down another aisle and Dmitriy’s eyes collided with Sergei’s.

Snared by Sergei’s gaze, Dmitriy whispered under his breath, “He saw us.”

Ivanov’s head slumped down. “Damn it. So close.”

Dmitriy swallowed hard. Concern for their lives warred in his heart. He took a deep breath and called out, “What are you doing here Sergei? Shouldn’t you be with my uncle?”

Nikol’s pulse fluttered and revved as adrenaline flooded her system a second time. Shooting a wary glance at Sergei, she knew from the serene look on his face, the glazed gleam in his eyes, and the twisted smirk on his lips that he had transcended to his happy place—the world in which he was master and all were there for his pleasure, which ran from pain to torture and defilement.

“Your uncle is the one who sent me. He wants you home. You have work to do.” Sergei’s tone was condescending and full of contempt.

Sergei closed the distance in a cocky gait. Dmitriy shifted to the side, leaving Ivanov to stand on his own two feet. “Ivanov! Look up,” Sergei’s voice rose and spit shot from his mouth. “I want to look in your eyes when I plug a bullet in your head.”

Ivanov lifted his head, eyes full of rage, and glared at Sergei. Nikol’s brows rose in surprise when he spoke in perfect Russian. “What kept you so long? Glad to see you still have a big hard-on for me. But as I told you before, I do not swing that way.”

As the words died from Ivanov’s lips, Sergei yelled, his face contorting in a snarl. Nikol watched as, in a fluid movement, Ivanov pulled a gun from under his sweater and shoved it under Sergei’s chin.

“Gun!” someone yelled. Tourists and vendors alike screamed and scattered in all directions.

“Cocky son of a bitch!” Sergei yelled, reaching for his own gun.

Shit! Shit!
Nikol’s mind screamed and she made her move
.
Suddenly everyone froze. Sergei cursed, his finger flexing on the trigger. “Don’t,” Nikol bit out, digging the muzzle of her gun into his temple.

Sergei dropped his arm. “Think about what you are doing, little Nikol,” he sneered, pressing his head harder against the cold metal barrel of her HK.

She spat at his feet. “You should have done what you were told for a change. I cannot let you kill them both.” Sergei shifted and Nikol pulled back the hammer. “Do it and you drop.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ivanov withdraw his gun and Dmitriy drape Ivanov’s good arm across his shoulders. She yelled at them, “Get out of here. Go!” Ivanov hesitated, eyes puzzled and assessing. “
Run!
” Dmitriy tugged on his arm and they both blended into the crowd.

“No!” Sergei swung his arm back.

Nikol dropped to a squat and kicked his legs out from under him. Sergei’s yell of rage mingled with the echoes of the shot that blasted from his pistol when he hit the ground. Pandemonium ensued as people—tourists and vendors—scrambled for cover. She blocked the sounds of running feet and screams from her mind, narrowing her focus on the lowlife in front of her.

Sergei flipped back to his feet and, in a fluid move, kicked the pistol from her grasp. Nikol shook her hand, hissing at the pain that burned up her arm. Sergei laughed low in his throat as he swung a right hook aimed at her temple.

Anticipating the hit, she blocked it, grabbing his wrist and countering with a right hook to his face. Sergei caught the punch before it reached his jaw. He grinned tauntingly. His grip, a vice squeezing the bones of her fist, brought tears to her eyes as she fought through the pain.

“Give up now, little Nikol. I know you. Know your moves.” Her heart shifted into overdrive, a thin film of perspiration covered her skin, and frustration fanned her anger as she struggled to release his hold.

Hatred colored her voice and her mouth curled in contempt. “You know nothing about me. And I am not your little Nikol!” As the last words spilled from her lips, she tightened her grip on his wrist, jerked him closer, and kicked him in the middle of his chest.

Sergei grunted as air rushed from his lungs. His body hunched over, curling in on itself. Without missing a beat, Nikol took a step forward and jabbed her right arm upward. The uppercut connected with the underside of his jaw. Another grunt filled the air as his head snapped back and the force of the punch twisted his body, dropping him to his knees.

Sergei breathed heavily, a mix of blood and spit dribbled from his mouth as he scrambled back to his feet. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he eyed her with contempt. “Your ass is mine. I will take great pleasure in keeping one of your fingers as a trophy,” he growled before rushing her and throwing a strike at her jaw.

Nikol wasn’t fast enough and took a solid hit to the shoulder. The force of the punch was staggering, almost knocking her to her knees. As his momentum turned him sideways, she caught her balance and bounced back, grunting out loud, as she delivered a powerful left hook to his kidney.

Sergei expelled a loud ragged breath and slumped over. Before he could recover, Nikol swung her fist back, catching him on the cheek, and followed with a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. His head popped to the side and he lost his balance, catching himself before he fell. “Bitch!” he yelled, backhanding her.

Throbbing pain radiated from Nikol’s cheekbone and a soft cry escaped as she went down on her knees. Sucking in deep gulps of air, she scrambled to her feet and spun to face him. Sergei stalked toward her, but before he could reach her, she delivered a reverse back kick to his jaw, dropping him to the ground.

She lifted his head, digging her fingers into the sides of it, and swung back her knee. Before it connected, Sergei grabbed her leg and twisted it to the side. Nikol cried out as she slammed back against the ground. The impact drove the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping like a guppy on dry land.

Rolling to all fours, she almost retched when the toe of Sergei’s shoe slammed into her gut. The force of the kick lifted her body from the ground and dropped her on her side, agony a painful lover squeezing her chest.

Sergei thrived on her pain, taunting her. “Did I hurt you? Are you having fun yet?” Sergei’s voice held a rasp of excitement, savoring the anticipation of his victory and having her at his mercy.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, and there was no way in hell she would fall to him. A flash of light hit her eye and glancing left, she spotted her gun lying on the ground, just out of reach. Hope gave her a new burst of energy. As Sergei circled behind her, she leveraged off her hands and kicked back at him with both feet, knocking his legs from under him. He landed on his stomach with a heavy thud.

Nikol rolled sideways out of his grasp, sliding the back of her hand along the dirt and under the grip of her pistol. Wrapping her fingers firmly around it, she lifted it from the ground as she continued to roll to her knees. Sergei’s battle cry, “Bitch! You die!” filled the air as he ran at her.

Her pulse was loud in her ears and her vision narrowed to Sergei’s chest. She held him in her sights and popped off two consecutive shots. Blood bloomed from the holes burrowed into his chest. Her breath hitched when he dropped to his knees and looked up at her. Her death hovered in his eyes as he began walking on his knees toward her with an outstretched hand. “Fuck you, bastard!” she yelled, squeezing the trigger again, riddling him with bullets until he lay flat on his face, a pool of blood encircling him.

Swallowing hard, Nikol fell back on her elbows and let out a small gasp of relief. Wiping the sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand, she painfully rose to her feet and rested her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Silence filled the air, followed by the shuffle of tourists and vendors emerging from their hiding places. When the murmurs started and sirens sounded in the distance, Nikol knew she needed to move. Pushing from her knees, she stood, studying Sergei’s lifeless body as she returned her gun to her waistband.

The bastard was really dead. She now had a target on her back. His death was not without witnesses—one of them Mikhailov’s man, to whom Sergei had spoken earlier. Dusting off her hands and pushing her hair from her face, she winced when her fingers brushed her cheek. Turning on her heel, without a backward glance, Nikol headed off in the direction Dmitriy had dragged Ivanov.

*****

As they weaved through the busy market, a shot rang out. Screams filled the air, people scurried and scattered around them, herding them down the trail toward the parking lot. Trevor felt like a pinball bouncing between Dmitriy and the panicked crowd. He gritted his teeth when his arm collided with a woman’s purse. Red colored his vision and his knees buckled.