Page 66 of Double or Nothing
“I’ll enjoy killing you slowly,” he threatens. “Dimitri should have killed you years ago. I’ll make you suffer and will only let you die after you tell me what you did to Ivan.”
Natasha narrows her eyes at him. “Ivan? Is that bastard missing? I can assure you I’ve done nothing to Ivan, though I would gladly kill him if given the chance.”
“You’re lying,” he growls.
Each second feels like an eternity as I watch, frozen in place, waiting for an opportunity to jump in to help her. Natasha’s facial features are set in grim determination as she concentrates. One bad move and it’s over with.
Finally, she sees an opening and strikes with a swift, brutal move.
The switchblade glints under the harsh bathroom light as it slices through the air and buries itself deep into Igor’s thigh. He yells, a terrifying, animalistic sound that echoes off the walls. His strong, towering form, which once exuded power and control, sways as his leg betrays him, unable to support his weight.
Natasha seizes the moment, capitalizing on his momentary weakness. She doesn’t hesitate or hold back her pent-up fury; she plunges her blade in again, this time into his side.
His guttural roars become gasps, his ferocious power waning with every drop of blood that splatters onto the white tile. He goes down on one knee, unable to stand any longer.
Her hand comes up again, the switchblade poised high above her head when he reaches inside his jacket. A gunshot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes through the bathroom. The bullet tears through the fabric of his dark suit, and hits a bathroom stall behind Natasha, barely missing her by inches.
“Run!” I yell, yanking the door open.
We rush into the hallway to make our escape, only to be blocked by a sea of senior women wearing sparkly red hats and eye-catching, flashy purple dresses. Oh my God! The Red Hat Society has arrived in town.
“What is this madness?” Natasha mutters beside me. “Another American cult?”
“He has a gun!” I shout at them. “There’s a gunman! Run! Hurry! Go! Go! Run!”
Their reaction is immediate and loud. A cacophony of gasps, shrieks and startlingly crude curse words fill the space, adding to the chaos. The gray-haired women turn and rush back towards the casino, screaming about a gun at the top of their lungs.
At the word ‘gun,’ panic ensues inside the casino. Gamblers immediately abandon chips and cards, dropping everything in their haste to flee the casino. We stay within the crowd, allowing the human tide to carry us out along with it.
As the crush of people flood out the front doors and spills into the street, casino security in their black uniforms and radios rushes past us in the opposite direction, their faces set with grim determination.
Keeping pace with the terrified crowd, we exit and then move rapidly away from the casino. We go several blocks before slowing down. Finally, Natasha takes my arm and pulls me to a stop in a back alley that smells of old trash and urine. Leaning over, I try to catch my breath. Running in heels is a lot harder than it looks.
“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing up at her. She doesn’t have a single strand of blonde hair out of place or a drop of sweat on her face.
“I regret not killing him,” she spits out in a bitter tone.
“Maybe you did,” I say. “He was in pretty bad shape when we left him.”
She shakes her head. “No, it would take more than two knife wounds to kill Igor. He will live. Those two bastard brothers can’t be killed.”
I take a deep breath. It’s time to tell her about Ivan. She can’t go on believing Ivan is still out there somewhere, hunting her down.
“I need to tell you something,” I begin. “Please don’t be mad at me for not telling you sooner. I wanted to be sure I could trust you.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously at me. “What is it? Spit it out.”
“Ivan is dead,” I reply. “He was killed the night they came to the club.”
“Your men killed him?” she asks, arching an eyebrow at me.
“Yes,” I slowly admit. “They did it to protect me. They caught him breaking into my car at Platinum. He was waiting for me to come out.”
Natasha leans her head back against the building and rummages inside her purse for a cigarette. “Good,” she says. “One less fucking Russian for me to kill.”
“You’re not mad?” I ask.
She turns to give me a small smile. “Eva has security cameras at the club. The camera footage showed that something happened in the parking lot, but the images weren’t clear enough to tell exactly what.” She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “I knew you would tell me what happened when you were ready. I owe your men. They can trust me with their secret.”
