Page 105 of Deadly Secrets
“Go ahead,” he taunted Roman. “I’ll kill her dead.”
God, he hated that phrase. “If you kill her, she’s dead, there’s no way around it, so saying you’llkill her deadis redundant.”
The crime lord didn’t expect a grammar lesson and the split second of mental head-scratching he did gave Roman the opening he needed.
In one swift movement, he grabbed the gun, forced it upright as Uri pulled the trigger and shoved the man into the wall. The bullet hit the ceiling and rained plaster down on them.
The old guy tried to knee him in the balls and was stronger than he looked, but Roman evaded the incoming danger to his family jewels while keeping his head from becoming the receiver of a bullet.
And thenwhap, something laid into his lower back, right about kidney level and brought him to his knees.
Mikhail had decided to use a chair leg as a bat.
Roman rolled, banging into Brooke, who cried out as the chair leg came down at both of them. Roman threw up an arm to block it, taking the full force of the blow so it didn’t hurt her.
Unfortunately, it was his injured arm and upon impact, it went weak.
Natural-born fighter that she was, Brooke took both her legs, still zip tied to her chair and managed to boot Mikhail in the shins with the chair.
The kid cursed and went down on one knee, dropping the chair leg. Roman rolled again toward Uri to take him out and found himself staring at the end of Uri’s gun.
Brooke didn’t realize that though. She scrambled to her hands and knees, grabbed the dropped chair leg, and raised it above her head to bring it down on her half-brother.
Uri swore in Russian. The gun went off, but not at Roman.
Brooke screamed. The chair leg dropped from her hands.
Roman didn’t see blood, thank God, but the chair leg was now in three pieces.
Uri had shot that and not Brooke.
As the gun swung back to point at Roman, he swiveled his body and used a roundhouse kick to knock Uri’s legs out from under him. The old man sprawled to the ground and the impact sent the gun skidding across the floor.
Mikhail smacked Brooke across the face, knocking her flat as he scrambled over her to lunge for the gun.
Roman lunged at the same time.
They grappled with each other, punching, kicking, and shoving each other, both trying to reach the gun first.
Roman had just delivered a gut punch to Mikhail when he heard Brooke let go of a banshee yell that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. As both he and Mikhail looked her way, she towered over them, a different chair leg raised above her head and a look of sheer determination on her face.
She brought the chair leg down on Mikhail’s calf, following it up with a second strike to his hip.Whack, whack, whack.She kept swinging.
The kid flailed; Uri swore and staggered to his feet. Roman brought an elbow down on Mikhail’s temple and knocked the kid out just as Brooke reared back with her chair leg bat and swung for the bleachers at Uri’s head.
The old man was a more controlled fighter than his nephew. He had an uncanny ability to move fast and efficiently. He grabbed the end of the bat and yanked Brooke forward.
She spun slightly, letting go in order to grab Uri.
As Brooke knocked Uri into the wall once more, Roman rolled to his feet and grabbed the gun in one quick motion. Uri shoved Brooke aside and she went down.
Roman fired.
The first bullet hit Uri in the shoulder. The second in the thigh. If Roman had his way, he would have put three center mass, then done the same to Mikhail, but Brooke needed answers about her family, and he wasn’t about to rob her of that chance.
As Uri writhed on the floor, a figure appeared in the doorway. The woman wore black from head to toe, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. A sizable black handgun complimented her outfit and her eyes did a sweep of Roman, Uri, and Mikhail. They paused for a moment on Brooke, who lay motionless on her side, eyes closed.
“Looks like I’m late to the party,” she said to Roman. “As always, you seem to have things under control.”
