Page 116 of Redemption

Unprepared, he fell back but didn’t stagger away. He charged, roaring to life, swinging as she ducked, grabbing her hair and yanking her back. Victoria crushed her weight on to his insole and let him hold her hair, using his strength as a fulcrum as she pulled back and crashed onto his kneecap with both feet.

Stumbling, he went down, releasing her. She wanted his life, wanted to make sure he stopped selling women. Victoria dropped on top of him, wrenching his arm back. Damn it!He flipped her, but she twisted, crawling around his back, biting and clawing as he kicked.

She rounded his side and swung hard, punching his mouth and then clamped both hands on his throat. “You willneversell me or anyone else again.”

His face turned red, his arms struggling. She had one pinned as his other flailed, and she couldn’t shake her tunnel vision, couldn’t get rid of Ivan’s face in her memory, of him hurting her—then she blinked, pulled out of her trance and came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

“Let him go,” the Russian ordered.

Maybe Vashchenko was already dead. She didn’t care. “No.”

The bastard cocked back and—fell over.Dead.

Stunned, she fell over, ducking from another unknown shooter, unsure what had happened, and saw that Vashchenko had a hole in his head too.

Gasping for breath, she stood upright, looking around and trying to figure out what in the hell was happening. Her guardian angel was somewhere nearby. That was the only thing that made sense. With as much of a deep breath as she could take, Victoria screamed, “Ryder.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

By Victoria’s count, there were more Russians dead than Mayhem. The whole place was a bloodbath, and she’d never seen anything like it. People joked about gang wars. They talked about it casually or in politics, but until someone saw the aftermath of what happened on this farm outside Sweet Hills, they didn’t know. And she was pissed.

Was this something the mayor or the sheriff knew about?

Some kind of truce had been called. A meeting of the leadership was happening, and her very basic, civilian, non-gang, non-MC, non-trafficker world, it looked to Victoria as though Mayhem had won, and an agreement was on the table.

Now was apparently the time when each side gathered their bodies. What the hell kind of world did they live in? As the sun started to rise, her tears started to fall. Somewhere out there, Victoria was certain Ryder had been watching over her.

But yet, she was still here. They were still crawling all over the place, and there were two dead bodies within feet of her.

Someone whistled. “Up there.”

She froze. Up there? Uphere?What did that mean? “Oh, fuck.” They were gathering bodies. She had two of them with her. Carefully, she moved from the turbine under the tractor, curling as small as she could and hiding behind the wheel.

The Russian came to the tractor, seeing one man, then the second, and cursed, confused. Both men looked as though they’d been killed by a sniper, unlike the bloody, pulpy masses that littered the parking lot.

He whistled, waving for another man to join him. They stood there for the longest minutes of her life, discussing the two men, crouching down to examine the gun she should’ve grabbed and the bullet holes in the face and back of head before calling up two more men.

Four Russians. Standing there. Feet away.

Victoria couldn’t breathe as they examined the bodies, looked around, kicked the grass, even climbed onto the tractor before jumping down.

Her blood pounded in her ears. Despite the casual confusion, they seemed to handle the death of their friends. Or coworkers. They even had a few laughs as another man climbed into the tractor and, in his best American hillbilly accent, pretended to be a farmer.

Asshole.

Someone gestured for him to get down and for someone else to get the dead bodies. The asshole-wannabe farmer mumbled in Russian and—fell out of the tractor, landing on his hands and knees, opening his eyes to come face to face with Victoria. “Hello, pretty.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

If Ryder thought the last few hours had aged him, the last few seconds almost put him in an early grave.

Most of Delta team, minus Grayson and Colin who left with the women they’d rescued, had been glued in place for the last few hours watching everything unfold. There had been nothing to do short of walking into the melee, introducing themselves as there to collect their possession, and getting everything killed, except watch.

It. Had. Been. Hell.

And now, Ryder was dying slowly as the man yanked Victoria from under the tractor as Grayson and Colin radioed that they were back into position. His heart jumped as she was thrown like a rag doll, and Ryder caressed the trigger of his rifle, studying the man who had his hands on Victoria. He wanted to see his blood flow. This shot wasn’t a calculated, emotionless job. Ryder wanted that to wear that death as a testament to what he would do for her.Anything.

“Let me take him out.” He held his breath.

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