Page 61 of Deadly Knight
I take off in the direction Caleb went, not because I believe the asshole will help me—clearly not, if he’s the reason I’m in this mess—but because it’s in the direction of a sure exit to a busy road.
I pump my arms and legs as fast as I can despite the heels I’m tempted to kick off. Maybe if I had the time to, but any pause in running is a second more he’ll use to catch up.
A second figure steps out from another tree, and though I try to duck around him, his muscled arm blocks me and bands around my waist, propelling me back the way I came regardless of my kicking and wailing, arms flailing as I resort to screeching for someone to overhear the attack. My racing mind can’t focus, trying to recall the trainer’s lessons of where to hit and how, of pressure points and weak spots that’ll save me.
“Let me go!” My legs swing out, hitting and punching his arm, side, any part of him I can reach, only for him to continue blocking attempt after attempt as he hauls me back where Ivan waits. He deposits me back onto the same bench before moving to the side, standing guard.
“Now that you’ve gotten escaping out of your system, we can talk.”
Ivan Volkov doesn’t “talk” issues out. He abuses the other person until they fold to his whim. Besides, there’s only one person who links Ivan and me together, so I can already guess what the subject of this so-called conversation will be.
“About?” I ask carefully, resting my hands on the bench beside me.
“My son, of course. You’ve certainly played your part well. He’s become the man I always dreamed he would be, but now, I have use for you again.”
I regard the bodyguard beside me, shrinking away from what the “again” could possibly be. Fromthathappening all over.
He’ll have to kill me first.Words I mean in my very soul. I’ll take the knife I notice strapped by his boot and slice my own throat before I let either man—or anyone else Ivan has around, for that matter—rape me.
“I haven’t seen your son in years.” Talking to Ava about Dimitri is one thing—a trusted source in a private office, but talking to his own father about him, as though nothing’s changed, is unsettling.
“Since you ended your relationship before moving, yes.” Ivan nods. “If only you could have guessed the two of you would end, no matter the path we took to get there. If you took my deal, you would have been a whole lot richer and whole lot…well, unbroken. Would have saved yourself all that pain.”
He’s baiting me, and no matter how much his words jab at my insides, I’ll let him spew his venom until he gets to the point. The more he talks, the less he acts, and the better off I am.
“Like I said, I haven’t seen him in years. Whatever he’s gotten himself into, I want no part of it.”
Ivan’s head ticks to the side. “You’re already a part of it. Now, I have business to do, so we have to get going.” He snaps his fingers.
“Going?” I’m so focused on Ivan, on gaining answers, I miss his soldier approaching.
I scramble to my feet, but he grips my upper arm to propel me closer. I throw an arm out, reaching for the sensitive place beneath his nose, but it’s a weak attempt backed by pointless fighting when he swings his hand near my neck and a prick jabs into my skin.
Blackness overwhelms me immediately, and I sleep.
The address leadsto a broken-down house in a low-income neighbourhood, and I can only assume Ivan’s been lying low here.
Equipped with two guns, one in each leg holster, I barely switch off the car before I’m bounding up the wooden steps, their paint chipped and faded, while ignoring the elderly couple smoking on the porch next door. Surely, they’ve seen a lot from that vantage point, and they’re about to hear a whole lot more.
I bust the door with a firm twist of my hand as the ancient knob puts up no fight before I’m inside the stuffy house, reaching for one gun to protect myself from whatever—whomever—my father has with him.
Only silence greets me, so with the gun positioned in front of my body, I carefully step down the short hallway, stopping by the open archway leading into the living room. Faded white walls stained with smoke and age, a ratty mattress in the far corner, and a single item on the floor in the centre of the room.
A cell phone.Hiscell phone.
“Fuck!”
I’m sure that the couple next door can hear my shout as I stomp towards the cell, barely remembering not to smash it since it could contain helpful leads.
The slim metal is in my hand when it rings, the labelUnknown Callerstretched across the screen. I tap to accept, feeling deep down the caller is also the cell’s owner.
“Ivan.”
“Syn.”
“I’m no son to you. You lost that right years ago. Where are you?”
He chortles. “I’m not exactly pleased to call you blood either. You’ve been a disappointment time and time again.”
