Page 21 of The Enemy's Defector
Three more times, he smacked the wood until it gave way.
Rain sheeted down. Caught in a deluge against the precipitation that wouldn’t let up, we climbed out and ran toward the cargo van that was parked nearby.
“Go. Get in. Go!” He urged me ahead of him, holding the gun he’d taken from my hands once I’d cut the rope binding his wrists together.
I ran for the driver’s side and hopped in. The keys were still in the ignition—that was how naively trusting the men were here—and I didn’t wait to start the engine.
Nik darted around to the passenger side, firing at the men who surrounded us. He climbed in as I hunched to avoid being hit through the window.
“Go!”
Before he’d fully closed the passenger door, he resumed shooting out the window at the men who were determined to stop us.
With my heart banging so wildly against my ribs, I crouched as low as I could as I sped away. Ramming into gates and fences, I plowed over every obstacle until we were on the road away from the estate. No matter how much distance I put between us and the men now speeding after us in cars, I kept my foot on the pedal and concentrated on getting us away.
“To the west,” Nik ordered, staggering through the van to reach the back windows. Even though this was a cargo van and a wall should stand as a partition between the cab and the cargo area, it was all open. He skidded and slipped as he crossed to the back and used the gun to smash out one of the tinted rear windows. From there, he had a better aim at shooting at the men chasing us.
With my frantic speeding and his accurate marksmanship, he deterred the men chasing us and I took us further from where we could be caught or killed.
Only once I was on the main road, more like a highway, did he return to the passenger seat.
The rain hadn’t let up, pelting the windshield without pause. Back and forth, the wipers whipped and cleared the glass so I could see. My vision was fine, regardless of the lackluster driving conditions, but I saw no direction of where to go.
Tunnel vision had limited me for too long.
I’d focused on nothing but finding evidence of Anton killing my father to think about anything else.
Then once I had that proof and knew that Nik was captured, I’d honed in all my efforts to find him.
Now that I had—miraculously, almost—I wasn’t sure of where to go now or what to do.
I hadn’t logically thought that far ahead. I hadn’t given enough attention to the next step.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice so ragged. Breaking the heavy silence with that question, he cleared his throat and stared at me. Feeling the intensity of his gaze, even from my peripheral vision, was too much to bear.
I tore my focus from the road and looked at him, cringing at the bloody mess he was.
The last time I saw him was the night he’d taken my virginity. That night when we met uptown and I had tried to hack into the surveillance feeds so he could tell who’d trespassed in his home to poison his father. We’d both caved that night, kissing until we crossed too many lines.
That night, he was strong and sexy. Bold and confident. Alluring and too tempting to resist. If I could linger in the peace of not being threatened to death, I could so clearly recall every sensual detail. How his dark hair hung over his brow as he pounded into me without patience. How the taut skin of his biceps proved his power as he hovered over me. How his fingers expertly touched me and made me wet for him, then how intensely he’d gripped his bare dick before lining it up to my pussy as I spread my legs wide for him.
“Katerina,” he said, his tone edged with impatience as I zoned out at the wicked memory of him having sex with me. The enemy fucking me.
I cleared my throat and nodded. If he was asking if I’d live, sure, I would. The hits I’d taken were less than what he’d been subjected to. Red welts and abrasions would line my neck, but I could breathe now. Scars would heal.
“You’re not,” I replied. “You’re not all right.” I furrowed my brow at the depth of how much I hated to see him in any amount of pain. It pained me to see him wounded like this. I was used toviolence. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen the results of it. But on him, I loathed it.
He heaved out a deep sigh, slumping against the seat. “I’ll survive.”
I nodded again, not looking at him a third time. He would. I’d seen to it that he’d have a better chance to survive. It would all be for nothing if I didn’t get him to safety, though.
“I’ll take you home and?—”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet.”
I frowned at him. “You’re hurt.”
“Then I’ll recover and be hurt somewhere else. I can’t go home yet. Not until I know who did this. Not until I can be confident I wouldn’t lead someone to my family.”
