Skull’s concerned face showed and disappeared behind the window a couple of seconds before Victoria’s footsteps could be heard. Peter pulled up his mask and retreated into the shadows.
She still saw him the moment she stepped through the door.
Her eyes went round, and her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Only slightly bigger than Pain, she wouldn’t be much of a fighter against him, but he could still see her brace herself, her body stiffening as she glared at him through the dark.
He took a slow step forward to allow her a full view of what she was up against. Their gazes locked, and she swallowed hard, darting a desperate look at the bed.
“Looking for this?” he said in a low voice, showing her the holstered gun in a slow, careful move.
She squinted at him and took a quick step to the nightstand.
“If I were you, I’d think twice before I tried anything,” he said even as she edged closer to the other gun. “I’m not here to kill you, Kathryn.”
She didn’t stop. That alone told him a lot about her.
“Suit yourself.”
He lunged at her just as she grabbed the gun with both hands. Peter halted, so close, his shadow covered her from top to toe. He wondered if she’d actually do it—if she’d try to shoot him the first chance she got. But she just held the gun against his chest, not realizing it was lighter than usual.
He went still, curious.
“Don’t move,” she hissed, scowling. It made her otherwise attractive face look severe, all sharp edges and slits for eyes.
But even with the gun in her hands, she was scared, he could tell. Her hands trembled, and perspiration showed on her forehead. She wasn’t a killer, even after everything she’d done. He’d suspected as much when he found that empty magazine in the AK Chad had stolen. It meant that the person behind all this, despite the nasty agenda, still tried to maintain some kind of safety for those involved.
What the hell had happened to make her do all this?
She took a step back, and Peter followed her. “The fuck you doing? I said don’t move!” Her voice was husky, as if from years of smoking.
He took another measured step forward and to the side, cutting off her path to the door. The barrel of the gun pressed into his chest.
“Move again, and I swear to God, I’ll shoot you!”
“No, you won’t,” Peter said.
He raised a hand, and Victoria’s eyebrows flew up when his fingers wrapped around the gun and pushed it to the side.
She pulled the trigger then, a stubborn grimace on her face, and it clicked a few times before she realized the gun was useless. Her eyes rose to meet his, and she tried to free her hands, but he’d already wrapped his fingers around her wrists.
“No point in fighting,” he said, never changing his calm tone. “It’s over.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s far from over.”
Taking the gun from her hands, he tossed it onto the bed. He let go of her wrists, and she jerked back as if he’d burned her.
“You know who I am?” he asked.
Her eyes darted to his graying hair. “I do. Killing me won’t change anything. It’s already started.”
“What?”
She refused to reply, her lips pressed tight as she stuck out her chin.
Peter smiled beneath his mask. “Fine. You’ll tell me all about it at headquarters. Ready to go?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”
It was as if the final piece of some puzzle had fallen into place in Victoria’s head. One second she stood glaring at him, and the next she shoved his chest with both hands and bolted to the door.
He had to give it to her—the woman was a fighter.
Yanking her back, Peter knocked her out with a single well-aimed, measured blow. He’d known he’d have to do this when he broke into her apartment, and after everything she’d done, it should’ve felt good. But it didn’t.
His fingers pulled down her collar. Human.
Peter thought about what she’d said as he dumped her on the bed. It’s far from over. Something in her voice had made him uneasy. She’d sounded scared and desperate, yes, but also confident. As if she really believed it.
He let out a weary breath. Once again, there were more questions than answers.
He walked through the hallway, snatching a gray winter coat off a peg; then swung by the kitchen and turned off the stove. He grabbed a black case that sat on a chair, her phone from the table, and switched off the lights.
Having found nothing else of interest in the apartment, he handed Skull the case through the window and turned to the bed. He could sense Skull’s eyes boring into his back as he wrapped the woman in the coat and picked her up.
“Afraid she’ll catch a cold?” Skull muttered, taking Victoria from him through the window.
“We do need her alive and capable of answering our questions.” Peter ignored Skull’s skeptical look, since he was too busy trying to squeeze out the window.
Once he got outside, he took Victoria’s limp body from Skull and looked back at the apartment. “That was…”
“Unsatisfying?” Skull prompted.
Peter nodded quickly. “Totally, yes.”
“It would’ve been better if she were a big thug that you could beat half to death.”
“Maybe there will be,” Peter said with a hopeful smile. He turned in headquarters’ direction, patting Victoria’s back. “Let’s hope she’s got something for us.”
Chapter 30
Dave stared at the computer
