Page 51 of In Her Blood
Viktor Zima was anintimidating man. He was not the tallest by any means, a fact which was emphasized by his choice of a military-style buzzcut that barely darkened his scalp. But he had built himself a body of unyielding stone, and the cold, hard look in his dark blue eyes carried that energy well. He’d shaped himself into a mountain and was known to show as much mercy.
There could be no good thing that had Viktor Zima, perhaps the nastiest of Pakhan Mikhail’s generation of brigadiers, stepping into Evelina’s office.
The man came to a stop still out of reach of either her or Otto, though he spared no attention to Otto as he raked a cold glare over her seated form. “Miss Nikolaev.”
Evelina let her brow furrow. “You came to me, Viktor. If you have something to say, please, share.”
His wide nostrils flared. “You defile your father’s honor with your actions.”
Anger surged through her like a burst dam. It was all Evelina could do to contain herself to merely crossing one leg over the other and raising her chin. “I’m confused. Are you saying I defile my father’s honor by claiming the inheritance he specifically left in my name?” She paused for a heartbeat. “Or perhaps I’m defiling it somehow by fighting to carry forward his legacy?” She paused again, and when she next spoke, her tone sharpened. “Certainly, you don’t think my father never had to draw hard lines. Viktor.”
Something in Viktor’s dark eyes sparked and he took a menacing step forward. “I will not be—”
Otto moved between them, filling Evelina’s view with his broad-shouldered back. “Step back. I won’t ask a second time.”
Viktor spat on the floor, as if that in itself wasn’t disrespecting the pakhan he claimed to be defending, and snarled at Otto. “That whore needs to learn her place. Maybe so do you.”
It really was what she’d expected. She had known Viktor would be nigh-unattainable. But this was not the day for that confirmation to come beat itself into her awareness.
What she was not expecting was the sudden, near-deafening explosion of a gunshot.
Evelina jumped in place, her head spinning to the side as if she might see where the bullet had landed or some invisible trail revealing where it had originated. She almost missed the heavy thud and poorly restrained groan of pain. The half-incoherent cursing.
Otto stepped forward, kicked at something, and the office door was thrown open as Tolya and another man rushed in with handguns drawn.
Confusion doused the sharp edge of the adrenaline coursing through her and Evelina leaned more to the opposite side, trying to take advantage of Otto’s movement in order to better see. At the same time, she couldn’t fully contain her concern. She knew damn wellshewas fine. “Otto, are you—”
“Fuckin’ pissed,” Otto said, as if through clenched teeth.
“Ah, ma’am—” Tolya called, his gun partially lowered and his gaze bouncing between her and Otto.
“I’ll fucking kill you, Voronin,” Viktor said. The words carried unmistakable rage, but also a strain that sounded like pain.
Otto shifted one foot back, his body tilting slightly with the movement, and Evelina understood.
Viktor was on the floor, not quite flat on his back. It looked like his knee had been blown out. Blood already pooled below him. And the thing Otto had kicked away was Viktor’s own gun.
Some psychotic part of her wanted to laugh as she played it back through her mind. “Otto, why did you shoot Viktor?” She knew. But she’d lost her mind and she wanted to hear the words out loud. With an audience.
Otto blew out a hard breath and lowered his gun. “Fucker came in here, lecturing you on respect. And then he called you a whore.” His fingers twitched and, for a heartbeat, Evelina thought he might shoot again. Instead, he turned his back to Viktor and the others altogether and stepped into her space, setting the gun on the desk as he caged her in with his arms. But he didn’t lower his voice. “And I am fuckingdonetoleratin’ that bullshit. No one hurts you, no one threatens you, no one fucking spits in your presence from now on. Not unless they want a whole lot of pain before they die.”
Evelina swallowed hard, trying to push her heart out of her throat. That was so much more than she’d expected. She’d anticipated an angry word or two. Maybe a declaration along the lines of ‘he insulted you.’ Definitely not … all of that.
Viktor snarled something that carried an ominous tone but wasn’t as sensible as he’d likely intended.
Thinking quickly, Evelina curled both hands into Otto’s shirt before he could step away, simultaneously tilting herself so as to see and be seen around his bulging bicep. “Gentlemen, could you please dump this trash downstairs in storage? You may want to restrain the upper limbs and check for weapons, just to be safe. I’ll deal with it later.”
She had a clear view of Tolya’s wide-eyed, reddening face and somehow, the sight made her want to laugh. But she kind ofliked Tolya, so she held herself back. It only took him another moment to pull himself together. “Yes, ma’am!”
Viktor resisted, of course.
Evelina allowed Otto to turn and was glad when Otto chose to keep himself close to her. He let the fingers of one hand curl loosely around the butt of his pistol, which still rested on the desk, and draped his other arm entirely across her lap in perhaps the boldest outward statement he’d made in her memory.
She loved it.
Neither of them spoke as they watched Tolya and his partner manhandle Viktor, the one whose name she didn’t know ultimately choosing to render Viktor unconscious rather than constantly have to fight off his flailing arms. They used Viktor’s own clothing as a rudimentary tourniquet to keep from trailing blood through ‘half the house’—a fair choice—and then, finally, they were gone.
Evelina’s gaze dropped back to the pool of blood that had puddled over the hardwood and begun soaking into the throw rug. She’d never cared for that rug, anyway, but the floor was a different matter.
