Page 127 of Santa Daddy
Smug. Drawling. Too pleased with himself by half.
“Come out, come out,” he called. “Let’s finish this family reunion properly.”
Family.
The snake at the center of all this.
I twisted to tell Konstantin, but he was already moving—blood dripping from his arm, gun in his good hand. In the confusion of smoke, muzzle flashes, and shadows, I lost sight of him.
We were supposed to stay together.
The thought had barely formed when an arm clamped around my waist. A hand slammed over my mouth, cutting off my yelp.
I was yanked backward into solid, unwelcome heat. The cologne hit me first. Familiar from the penthouse. From the wine. From the almost-assault he’d tried there.
“Hello, beautiful,” Maksim murmured against my ear. His breath was hot and foul. “Miss me?”
Fight. Use what he taught you.
I drove my elbow back into his ribs. Felt the satisfying grunt. Twisted, going for his wrist the way Konstantin had shown me, and snapped my knee up toward his groin.
He anticipated it this time, shifting just enough that I glanced off his thigh instead. He laughed.
“Still feisty,” he said. “Love that.”
His hand shot up and closed around my throat, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Black dots started to bloom at the edges of my vision as I clawed at his grip.
Can’t breathe. Can’t?—
The baby?—
Thunder crashed through the trees.
Not sky.
Konstantin.
He hit Maksim like a freight train, ripping me from his grasp and slamming him back into a pine so hard the trunk shook. Snow fell in a soft shower from the branches above.
In the next heartbeat, Konstantin had his cousin pinned with one forearm, gun pressed to Maksim’s temple. Blood ran freely down his own arm, but his hand didn’t tremble.
“You want my seat?” he asked, voice cold enough to freeze marrow. “Take it in hell.”
Do it, I thought. End it.
Maksim laughed, even with a gun to his head.
“Pull that trigger,” he said, “and you’ll never know how deep this goes. How many more want you dead. Want her dead.”
He was stalling.
Buying time.
Maybe for a second wave. Maybe for another shooter.
No more games.
No more chances.
