Fuck. There’s got to be another way in.
I see a door to my right, rusted over. When I hear the machine gun pause for a moment, I take to my feet and sprint that way as my men return fire behind me. I make it to the door, yank it open.
I’m almost inside when I feel a hand seize my ankle. The unexpected touch sends me tumbling to the floor in the dark hallway within. The man who grabbed me falls in. I spot the glistening edge of a knife blade before the door slams shut, trapping us in the pitch black.
I deliver two quick heel strikes to the man’s face. His nose crunches under my boot, but it’s not enough to stop him. His knife bites into my calf in one long slice. I roar as pain explodes in my lower leg. The hot rush of blood starts to fill my boot.
I need to move quickly, or this bastard will slit my throat in the dark and leave me here to die. Swinging my injured leg around his throat, I pull him into a chokehold with my shin cutting off his airway. I use my free hand to grab his knife-hand wrist and twist hard. Bones crack beneath my grasp. I hear the knife clatter to the floor.
The man is thrashing in my grasp, but when he reaches up and punches blindly into my groin, I let go with a pained grunt. The sickening lurch of his blow makes my stomach churn, but I don’t have time to think before he’s on top of me, raining punches down. Half of them miss, but enough land on my face and shoulders to disorient me.
I throw a blind punch back and get lucky, connecting with his jaw. The man falls to my left and I roll on top of him immediately.
Time to end this.
My hands find his throat and begin to squeeze all the air from his body. I can feel his fingers scrabbling over my face, looking for my eyes. I bite down hard on his thumb and taste the coppery tang of blood. He screams hoarsely; I don’t let go.
Only when his thrashing has stopped and the man is strangled beneath me do I finally relinquish my grip and slump to the side. My breath comes in ragged gasps. The pain in my calf where he knifed me is a bitter throb, sharp and relentless.
I’m running out of time. I don’t even know for sure if Gino is here, or if Annie is. And if he catches word of our suicidal assault on his headquarters, there is no telling where he might take her away to. This is my last—and only—chance to save her.
I stagger down the dark hallway, trailing blood. There’s a dim light at the end of the tunnel, streaming down weakly from overhead. I reach out and find the cold metal rungs of a ladder. Don’t think; climb. I mount it and make my way up.
At the top, I push aside a manhole cover and find myself in an empty hallway. It’s silent, aside from the occasional pop of gunfire from far away, muffled by the walls. But I stay on guard. Down the hall, a light is on in one of the rooms. Someone is talking and shadows dance across the floor. I take a breath and narrow my eyes as I inch my way closer.
“It’s got to be Nikita?”
Augustin’s voice, I realize.
“Of course it’s him. We have his little girlfriend. Did you think the Lavrin hothead wouldn’t try to come and rescue her?” Gino laughs. “He’ll die trying and I’ll get what I’ve been waiting for.”
“Go to hell,” Annie spits at them.
My heartbeat races the moment I hear her voice. She’s alive. I swallow and push on. Failure isn’t an option. Not when it comes to protecting Annie. But I don’t know the layout of the room or where she is. Or if they have a gun pulled on her.
Please, Dad, if you can hear me, watch over Annie and keep her safe.
I inhale and exhale a couple of times, then charge toward the door, throwing my body into it. As I crash into the room, I take quick count of everyone. Augustin and Gino are unguarded. Annie is held down to a table by Augustin gripping her arms, while Gino wrenches her legs apart. The Italian’s pants are unzipped and unbuttoned. I can see the ugly head of his cock protruding from his boxers.
I hurl myself at him. No fucking way is the bastard going to rape my little bird.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Annie
An hour earlier
Not again.
Not again. This can’t be happening to me again.
“Why so glum, princess?” The Italian’s thick accent wrenches me back to reality.
He reaches across and pats my leg, his touch lingering longer than I care for, his face moving a little too slowly as he takes in the sight of me. Then he grins, and as he does so the temperature in the car falls a little. It’s a Cheshire grin of sorts, the kind that’s so wide it’s more as if he wants to eat everyone than say hello.
“Don’t worry, little girl. We’re going to have so much fun, and soon the memory of Nikita will disappear from your mind, no?”
I sneer and quickly wish I hadn’t. Gino tenses and his eyes are unblinking. No way will he make me forget Nikita, not when I’m carrying the man’s baby. And not when my heart belongs to him. No, the only way Gino could ever make me forget about Nikita would be if he kills me.
Goose bumps pepper my skin at the
