He listened to what his man had to say, and began to laugh. He turned to the monitor and enlarged one of the images.
Within seconds, Karl appeared on the screen with the Lazar girl. He said something sharp, and wrenched her hair back until she looked up at the camera, her lovely eyes full of defiance.
She looked a bit the worse for wear, but still mouthwatering. Those mil, trembling lips. That pale skin that would show every little mark. He hadn't needed the worthless Riggs after all. He had wasted his best assassin for nothing. The girl had come to him on her own.
“Bring her to me,” he said. He could hardly wait to conclude this tedious business with Lazar.
Then it would be playtime.
She hated feeling stupid, as well as terrified. Novak wrenched her wrists up behind her and twisted. A blaze of agony flashed through her nerves, and she hovered for a second on the verge of fainting before Novak forced her onward.
Karl, the thug who had jumped her, opened a heavy, carved mahogany door and stood aside to let them enter. He leered horribly as she passed. She could still feel his damp, clinging hands on her body. She wondered if she would ever be able to wash the feeling away.
More to the point, if she would ever have the opportunity to try.
Victor was waiting in the big, shabby library. His face was grim, and he looked unsurprised to see her. Karl and another of Novak's men took up their positions on either side.
“Hello, Kurt,” Victor said. “Is this unpleasantness necessary?”
“Most unpleasantness is, Victor,” Novak replied. “Please bear in mind that you put me in this position. You have only yourself to blame.”
Victor's eyes met hers. A faint smile touched his lips. “Good morning, Katya “ he said. “I am distressed to see you here, but not surprised. You have to be at the center of the action, no? You simply cannot stay to the side, where it is safer.”
“You saw me on the monitor, didn't you?” If there was one last useful thing she could do, it was deflect their attention from Seth.
“Yes.” Victor looked her up and down. “Your sense of personal style is evolving at a lightning pace, my dear. What's this new look you're sporting? G.I. Jane? It has a certain wild, scruffy charm, but I prefer the Dolce & Gabbana, myself.”
“I look like this because I've been fighting off Ed Riggs,” she said.
Victor's ironic smile froze into a mask. “Riggs attacked you?”
“Everybody attacks me,” she muttered sourly.
Novak wrenched her arm up, and she arched back with a hiss of pain. “Stop whining,” he said. “Riggs is my man now. He spilled the entire sordid tale to me last night. Seduction, blackmail and murder. What a family, eh? When it comes to squalid secrets, it rivals my own.”
She met Victor's eyes. “So it's true.”
Victor shrugged. “A small part of a much larger truth,” he said coolly. “Congratulations for fighting him off, Katya. I'm sure you were more than a match for that imbecile. You did kill him, I hope?”
White-hot fire flashed through her arm as Novak forced her slowly to her knees. “No,” she croaked. “Not my style.”
“No?” Victor looked disappointed. “One must make allowances for inexperience, I suppose. For heaven's sake, Kurt, let the poor girl up. There’s no need for such theatrics.”
“Squeamish, hmm?” Novak pushed Raine's chin up with the gun barrel, forcing her to look up. “You and I are going to play such exciting games,” he crooned. “Get used to this position.”
She barely managed to shake her head. “Not,” she hissed.
“Enough.” Victor's voice rang out sharply. “This is vulgar and unnecessary. Let us discuss terms.”
Novak pulled her onto her feet with a smug smile. “How unlike you to get right to the point, Victor. Usually you talk in circles for hours. You must be nervous. Ill at ease. Was it something that I said?”
“Enough,” Victor repeated, in a stony voice. “What do you want?”
Novak leaned towards Raine and sucked her earlobe between his teeth, biting hard enough to make her yelp. “Everything, my friend,” he said. “The gun. The videotapes—all of them. Your niece. Your pride, your peace of mind, your sleep at night. I want it all.”
Victor made an impatient sound. “Don't be melodramatic. We've done business amicably for years. Why this sudden hostility?”
Novak assumed a hurt expression. “But you betrayed my friendship, Victor. You played with my most tender sentiments. And now, I am going to play with yours.”
Victor did not break eye contact with him. “Katya, I am very sorry,” he said, very softly. “You do not deserve this.”
Raine wiggled, trying to evade Novak as he thrust his tongue in her ear. She froze suddenly into place when he stroked the underside of her jaw with the gun. “That's for damn sure,” she said fervently.
“Your niece is even more exiting than Belinda Corazon,” Novak crooned. “Wilder, more challenging. I will be curious to study this videotape, Victor. To see what feelings are aroused, so I can compare.”
Their conversation in the vault suddenly flashed back, word for word, and with it, sudden comprehension.
Victor had been bluffing this monster with a dream. He had no videotape to bargain with. She met his bleak gaze, and read the terrible truth in his eyes. There was no need for words. There was no way out of this chamber of horrors.
“Is this what you meant when you told me that the Lazar dreaming could be useful?” she asked.
'This is a fine time to criticize me,” Victor said curtly. “I made this deal before you came back into the picture “
“Shut up!” Novak shrieked.
Raine flinched as spittle sprayed across her face. Novak swung the gun around and pointed it at Victor. “Listen carefully, Victor. These are the terms. I have a secret room all ready for your lovely niece. For every hour that you make me wait for those videotapes, I intend to—”
A high, arched library window burst and shattered inwards. One of Novak's men flew through the air and slammed onto the dusty floor, clutching his chest. Then the whole world seemed to explode.
Novak was screaming, Victor was yelling. Novak flung her away and whirled to face the new threat, which seemed to come from all sides. She spun through the air and hit the wall, hard. Karl shot wildly towards the library door. A single blast responded, and Karl pinwheeled his arms and fell to the ground, clutching the red, viscous mess that had once been his throat.
Another blast, and Novak grunted, knocked to the floor. Time warped into silent, syrupy slow motion as he struggled up onto his elbows and glared at Victor, his face twisted into a gargoyle's mask.
Novak lifted his pistol and aimed it at her. Victor leaped in front of her. The force of the shot slammed him back against her, pinning her against the wall. She felt a hot sunburst of pain in her back. Victor sagged, sliding down against her body. She caught him beneath the armpits. Novak lifted the gun and pointed it at her again, his lips stretched out in a gruesome death's-head grin.
Another deafening explosion, and the gun flew out of his hand. A horrible spray of red fountained out Novak bent over the ragged mess of his hand, mouth open in a soundless scream.
Another blast. He jerked, clutching his thigh and thudded facedown to the floor.
No air. Her lungs were a vacuum. Her heart a burning coal. And the earth was dragging Victor down with a force she could not resist.
Too late. He'd failed, he'd missed. Raine was sliding down the wall behind Lazar and the world had ended, here and now. He skidded to a stop and dropped to his knees in the spreading pool of blood. “Are you shot?” he demanded.
She stared up at him, uncomprehending. He tried to pull Lazar's body away from her so he could see how badly she was hurt.
“No!” Her arms tightened around the wounded man.
“I need to see if you're hurt, damn it!”
She shook her head. “He took the bullet for me,” she whispered.
