Page 59 of Kept in the Dark
“’Sup?” I ask around a mouthful of fruit.
“There’s a strange woman running around in the garden with a gun.”
Well, that’s… something. Definitely not what I thought he’d say. I feel my mouth gape and a little rivulet of apple juice spill from the corner before I can recover. I wipe at it and manage, “What?”
He jerks his chin towards the backyard. “It’s not every morning that you get a show with your breakfast. Dimitri’s been chasing her around the yard for the past…” he checks his watch, “three minutes.”
Isnort. “Kinky.”
I turn and see a tall, tan, curvy woman sprinting across the grass, looking terrified for her life. She doesn’t so much as pause to orient herself, running blindly, and nearly falls as she trips over a sprinkler head.
“Nicole Brooks, I take it,” Wes remarks dryly, pulling a chip from the bag he’s holding and popping it into his mouth.
I reach in and steal a small handful, which makes Wes raise his brow at me. “The witness? Huh. Yeah, looks just like the picture you pulled from her work ID badge,” I confirm.
A few seconds later, Dimitri—looking meaner than I’ve ever seen him, fucking pissed, in fact—bursts through the tree line after her. His longer legs eat up the distance between them as she recovers from her stumble, and he overtakes her in her desperate attempt to escape. We both lean forward, squinting against the too-bright early morning light cresting over the hill in the distance.
“Looks like he took a shot to the nose. You think she did that?”
“Seems likely.” I nearly snort. “Dimitri’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.”
I can see her mouth open in a scream as she looks over her shoulder and realizes he’s gaining, a noise of panic that’s only just audible through the distance and glass panes. He tackles her from behind, and they both go down in the grass.
As one, Wes and I crane our necks to keep eyes on the tussle.
“She’s holding her own,” Wes observes, sounding impressed as Dimitri attempts to pin her and she manages to roll away and scramble back to her feet.
“Should we… help?” I ask, tracking their movements as they grapple and limbs go flying. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on here—she’s trying to get away, and he’s trying to stop her. And I know him well enough to see that he’s pulling his punches, trying to subdue her, not hurt her.
Wes chuckles. “Who do you propose we help?”
I make a thoughtful noise, shrug, and take another bite of my apple. With a smack of my lips, I throw a glance over my shoulder at the fruit bowl. “Damn, these are good. You should try one.”
“I’ll stick to my—Ooh!” Wes hisses, a noise of pity. “What a shot! Right in the nose. If it wasn’t broken before, it is now.”
I whip back around in time to see Dimitri stumbling backwards, clutching his face as a fresh wave of red drips between his fingers, pooling in the valleys. I hoot with surprised laughter. “I missed it! Damn! How did she get the drop on him?”
“He’s holding back. Or, he was. Looks like she’s finally remembered the gun she’s holding. I reckon the kid gloves are off now.”
I stiffen, seeing her lift it towards our fearless leader. “It’s not loaded?”
He shakes his head. “Dimitri wouldn’t chase her like that unless he was sure she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—shoot.”
The black metal flashes in the sunlight that barely crests over the hill, extended in the space between them. I shake my head. She’s holding it too far from her body. He’ll have it out of her hand in two seconds flat. “Her grip’s all wrong.”
Even though she’s armed, she’s clearly inexperienced. Once Dimitri stops messing around, she’s done for. It’s almost funny to see some of the moves he’s been drilling into us for over a year in action like this. It’s not like sparring, since the stakes are higher for both of them, but it’s nowhere near a fair fight.
He knocks the gun into the grass with a perfectly aimed and lightning-quick blow to her wrist that she doesn’t see coming. Disarmed, she falls back a step and pivots, preparing to run again. He feints left; she darts to avoid him, and he catches a handful of the back of her shirt, using it to jerk her into a bear hug, overpowering her.
But she’s not done fighting—she throws her head back, clipping him in the chin. It’s only then that I realize how tall she must be to be able to even reach his chin. That’s about where Wesley falls on him whenthey stand next to each other. I see him working his jaw, and his arms bulge as he tightens his grip around her.
Struggling, but apparently filled with more annoyance than anger, Dimitri casts exasperated eyes skyward. When they level back out, they fall on us. He stiffens, realizing we’re at the window, watching. Wes uses his bag of chips to salute him, and I jerk my hand in a wave, grinning. I see his chest expand as he sighs, probably muttering some obscure Russian curse. My favorite is when he calls us goat testicles. Or penises from the mountains.
As if realizing how this all must look in front of an audience, he loosens his hold and places a hand on each shoulder to turn her. She takes off as soon as she can break free.
“Nearly had her that time… Oh, no! Not that way! She doesn’t see the—”
The screams were muffled before, but we can clearly hear the sharp ripping sound and the giant splash as she steps right through the pool cover. In her defense, it looks just like the rest of the patio—it’s designed to. It rips down the middle, and she disappears into the murky water beneath it. Dimitri dives right in after her, and the splashes get bigger.
