Page 77 of Covert Vengeance

He leapt on the bastard’s back, aware that the shooting had stopped, but unable to stop and assess what had happened. He knocked the knife out of Stanislav’s wet grip and clamped both arms around the asshole’s neck, locking him in a chokehold, ducking his head in tight as the retaliating blows rained down on his head and shoulders.

You’re not touching her. You’re not fucking getting near her.

Stanislav’s body began to go slack. Jesse maintained his grip, refusing to let go until he was sure Stanislav was going under.

Stanislav stopped struggling. His unbroken arm flailed once, twice, then went limp as he slumped in Jesse’s hold.

Jesse let up on the pressure and reached one hand down to fish for his weapon.

Finding it, he glanced over his shoulder at Amber. She was coming toward him, holstering her weapon. She appeared unhurt, and his heart started beating again.

“I’m out of ammo. Is he dead?”

“No.” Breathing hard, battling the urge to put a bullet in the motherfucker’s brain, Jesse shoved to his feet. “Got the cuffs?”

“Yeah.”

Jesse wasn’t the one who should finish this.

With one hand he reached down, seized Stanislav’s hair, and wrenched upward.

Stanislav dragged in a heaving breath and released it an enraged snarl, flailing his unbroken arm up to try and break Jesse’s grasp. When he saw Amber he made a sound like an enraged bull and lunged forward.

Jesse shoved him in the opposite direction, sending him reeling.

Unarmed and outnumbered, Stanislav stumbled, caught himself before he fell. He stared at them both as a taut silence spread through the tunnel, his shoulders and chest heaving, water dripping from his hair and face.

“It’s over,” Jesse told him, voice cold.

Stanislav leveled one final hate-filled stare at them, then turned and raced away down the tunnel.

Jesse drew his weapon.

“No,” Amber said, catching his shoulder.

He turned to her, flipped his weapon over and extended his arm, handing it to her. “He’s all yours.”

AMBER TOOK THE pistol from him, searching his eyes in the dim light afforded by the submerged flashlight now trapped against the tunnel wall.

Jesse knew. He knew this was personal for her, how important it was to her, and that she needed to be the one to end this.

Turning to face Stanislav, his silhouette barely visible now as he neared the next turn in the tunnel, she raised the pistol and fired once.

He cried out, grabbed the back of his left thigh and fell headlong into the water.

Amber stalked toward him, Jesse a few paces behind with the flashlight. He wouldn’t interfere, knew Stanislav was hers, and damn she loved him for it.

A torrent of emotion bombarded her as she approached the downed man. She’d been trained to operate with a cool head, never letting emotion interfere with her decisions or reactions. Now she all but trembled with it, remembering the hell this man and his lover had put her through.

Yury was struggling to get to his right knee, unwilling to surrender. Not that she was surprised.

“Hands in the air, asshole,” she called out.

His shoulders were heaving, his uneven breaths echoing off the tunnel’s walls. He turned his head, nailed her with a look of pure hatred. “You think I’m scared of you, bitch? I know all about killing Valkyries. Come and get me.”

“Oh, I am.” She was fired up, goosebumps racing across her skin as she neared her target. She was tasked with capturing him, sanctioned only to kill as a last resort in self-defense. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. “Hands behind your back.”

“Fuck you,” he snarled, sneering in defiance through busted lips.

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