“Prez, I ain’t gonna back—”
“Authorized,” he cut in.
“What?”
“You got authorization to make the kill. Just Baranov, not Rick. The club’s got your back on any fallout. I’ll protect you. Clear?”
I rounded another corner, deep into the backstreets.
Through the haze of the heavy rainfall, I finally set eyes on what I’d been searching for.
My stomach lurched, bile rising into my throat. I swallowed it down and choked out to Slade, “Clear.”
I hung up and strategized rapidly.
There Natasha was, shoved up against the back wall of a run-down dive bar. That sick fuck, Mikhail Baranov had his left hand pressed to her back, holding her against it as his other was jerking down her jeans and panties. She was struggling and screaming at him, begging him not to take it there.
As I burst forward, the rear door flew open and Rick ran out.
“Mik!” he called, looking almost as horrified as I was. “Prez said to deliver a message, not to fucking well rape her! Shit!”
Mikhail snarled at him in warning and yelled, “Doing him a favor. Bitch needs taming. After this, she’s gonna be. Gonna fucking break her for him then he ain’t gonna get no more trouble from her.”
“You sick fuck, he ain’t gonna want that. Ease up. Now!”
He went for him.
But I was faster, the dumbass slower because of his hesitation from not wanting to hurt one of his own club brothers.
With a roar, I dug my gloved fingers into Mikhail's shoulders and hauled him off Natasha.
He lost his balance and crashed onto the wet alley floor, water and dirt soaking his clothes, skin and hair.
“Fucking shit. Just what we damn well need,” Rick groused as he took me in.
With him in shock and Mikhail momentarily down, I ran to Natasha.
“It’s okay, firecracker. It’s over. Nobody’s gonna hurt you now. I’m here. I’m here with you,” I told her, as I fixed her clothes back into place and gently eased her away out of the line of fire.
I didn’t want her seeing what was about to go down.
A goddamn execution.
She whimpered and clutched at me. “Cole,” she choked out.
“I know, baby. I know.”
She squeezed my hand and I kissed her fingers.
“I’m going to need you to wait just around the corner. I’ll be there in a few moments. Can you do that for me?”
I saw the worry in her eyes. She knew what I was going to do. For a second, I thought she was going to object, but then she hung her head resignedly and nodded.
“Steel Titans shit!” Mikhail bellowed, my peripheral vision taking him in getting to his feet.
I pulled back quick from Tasha and ordered, “Go.”
The second I saw her disappear out of sight, I turned my full attention to Mikhail and stepped forward. “Putting your hands on my woman is the last mistake you’re ever gonna make.”
“Cole,” Rick called. “You come at him and we’re gonna have a major problem.”
I scoffed. “You think we don’t already, dipshit? He tried to rape her! In what universe do you think I could ever let that go unpunished?”
“He got carried away.”
He was a fool thinking he could reason away such fucked-up actions. “He’s a sick piece of shit.” I glared at Mikhail, growling, “An out-of-control psycho who needs putting down.”
He charged me, going for a tackle.
I wasn’t an undefeated boxer on the underground circuit for nothing and I sidestepped him with my quick reflexes, then caught him off guard with a brutal uppercut to his throat.
As he was choking, I slammed my elbow down into the center of his back, drilling deep for good measure. One of his knees buckled and I took it the rest of the way with a sweep of my motorcycle boot to his ankles. He went down hard, grunting and wheezing as he collapsed onto the sodden ground on his front, only just managing to brace himself with his hands to avoid shattering his face.
“Cole, stop!” Rick called out to me.
Mikhail rolled onto his side and cursed me out in pathetic choking rasp. “Gonna finish what I started with your little bitch. Just… wait. Gonna make you watch.”
There wasn’t a fucking chance in hell.
Even if it had briefly occurred to some virtuous part of me to pull back from going for the kill, there was no way now.
There would be no stopping.
No mercy.
I stalked to the heap of Mikhail groaning and struggling to get onto his knees. It was just as I’d figured from what I’d heard about him. He was all hardass talk and bluster, no real skill when it came down to the meat of it, meaning hand-to-hand combat. Just another thug hiding behind his size and a gun.
“Cole, last chance,” Rick warned me.
As I took another step, I saw him running at me.
Big mistake.
Reacting real quick, I snatched my knife from my ankle holster, snapped my wrist down to dislodge the blade, then caught his tackle before he could make much of it. Using his weight against him, I spun him into a boarded up window. As he was reeling from that, I drove my blade down, crucifying his hand and securing it to the plywood.
He screamed out into the night, writhing and fighting to pull it out, to free himself.
I turned away, swallowing down his bloodcurdling screams and stalked back to Mikhail.
Seeing he was almost to his knees, I slammed my boot into his side, hard enough to crack a rib or two. More screams. Choking.
All nothing but distractions.
I blocked it out.
And then the real brutality began.
Fists. Boots. Elbows. Knees. Headbutts.
A red haze of rage engulfed me, my goal of ending him my only focus.
In no time at all, he was nothing but a mass of bloodied flesh and broken bones.
And then… he was nothing at all.
I shot bolt upright, my breaths coming fast and strained.
It took me a moment to readjust my eyes to
