Page 104 of Fierce Pursuit

Her life depended on it.

“If she’s dead, there’s nothing that’s going to protect you from me. What kind of coward uses a woman as a human shield? Do American men not have enough balls to fight on their own? All this next day delivery and climate control make you weak?”

I was laying it on thick. But I knew these men probably had no idea what they’d walked into and the veins pulsing in dead man number one’s forehead told me my words hit home.

“The kind that is going to make it out of here alive,” he shot back.

“Unlikely,” Marina said, and the man squeezed her throat tighter and pressed the gun to her temple hard enough she bit back a wince.

Good girl, she wasn’t showing weakness. She knew that would only encourage them.

“Hurry the fuck up,” dead man number two said, talking to dead man number one who was still taking cover in the doorframe.

He was so far out of his league it was hardly the same fucking sport. He was a kid, barely twenty, who was probably used to stealing candy from babies, and cash out of grandmas’ purses. This was at a whole new level, and he wasn’t prepared.

He ran into the room, eyeing me warily as he tucked his gun into the back of his pants.

“You don’t want to do this,” I told him.

“Shut the fuck up,” number two yelled.

“Do you know who I am? What I am?” I asked number one, ignoring number two.

“If I don’t, they’ll kill me,” he said, glancing over to Marina, an apology in his eyes. Yeah, he did not sign up for this shit. But it was too late now.

“I am Konstantine Nikolai Ivanov,” I said, and watched the realization wash over his face.

Fear, genuine fear, painted his features.

He may not have recognized me on sight, but he knew the name.

“What do you think is going to happen when my people find you?” I asked.

“Shut the fuck up, or I will kill the bitch,” number two screamed again, and I wondered if he was on something. Powdered courage maybe? The way he was shaking and his eyes started bouncing around, I knew he was on something. That made him even more unpredictable.

Fuck.

Number one grabbed the bag and just scraped all the money and the guns into the duffel. His hands shaking so badly several of the bound stacks fell to the carpet, and he struggled to pick them up.

One of them shaking because of drugs, the other OD-ing on adrenaline. Fucking fantastic.

“Do you have it all? If we miss a single fucking thing he’s going to?—”

“You shouldn’t worry about Solovyov,” I said. “You’re never going to see him again. I’m going to kill you before you get the chance.”

Marina clenched her jaw, and I could see her shoulders tightening as she subtly moved her arm. She was getting ready to throw her elbow back into his gut and try to get away.

I met her eye and shook my head.

This was not some Hollywood movie where she could distract him long enough with one gut punch and get away from him.

Maybe if I had my gun in my hand, but even then it was too risky.

If she missed, if she hit his ribs instead of his solar plexus, or he was too high to feel it….

No, it was too risky.

Of course, I would kill them before they left the room, but I refused to jeopardize her life.

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