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The knife. He’s going for the knife he dropped.
That’s when I hear the back door slam open with enough force to rattle the building.
Carl freezes, turning his head toward the sound, and I use his momentary distraction to knee him again. This time, I catch him in the thigh, and he stumbles back enough for me to see who’s coming down the hallway.
Nikandr.
He moves like death itself, silent and deadly, his gaze locked on Carl with focused intensity that promises violence. He’s wearing a dark suit that makes him look even more dangerous than usual, and there’s something in his expression that makes me afraid. Not fear for me. My relief is so intense it’s almost painful.
The fear is for Carl, but it dispels as I realize I don’t care what happens to him.
“Get away from her.” His voice is quiet but carries more menace than any scream ever could. “Now.”
Carl must hear it too because he releases me and takes a step back. He’s either too drunk or too stupid to understand the magnitude of danger he’s in. “Hey, man, this is none of your business,” he says, trying to sound confident. “The lady and me was just havin’ a conversation.”
Nikandr doesn’t respond with words. He moves faster than I would have thought possible, covering the distance between them in two strides. Carl has time to raise his hands defensively, but it doesn’t matter. Nikandr’s first punch lands in his solar plexus with enough force to lift him off his feet. The second catches him in the jaw, and something cracks. Carl crumples to the floor like a marionette with cut strings, unconscious before he hits the ground.
The entire encounter lasts less than ten seconds.
I stare at Carl’s motionless form, then at Nikandr, who’s standing over him with the calm, detached expression of someone who’s done this before. Many times.
I stammer out the first thing that comes to mind. “He’s a regular. He’s never acted like this before.”
Nikandr’s expression darkens, and he delivers a sharp kick to Carl’s unconscious form. “He’ll never act like it again with you.”
Before I can process what just happened, he grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward the back door. “We’re leaving. Now.”
I stumble behind him, too stunned and still trying to process everything that’s happened to protest, at least for the moment.
12
Nikandr
I’m done playing games.
The moment I drag Sabrina out of that club and into the SUV, I’m on the phone with my men. Viktor was standing in the alley a few feet from the car, weapon in hand, which tells me he heard enough through the parabolic mic to know the situation went sideways. He rushes back to the SUV and starts to get behind the wheel.
I hold up a hand. “Handle the intruder. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong. I want him to wake up with no memory of the past hour and a healthy fear of dark alleys.”
“Copy that. What about the woman?”
I glance at Sabrina, who’s pressed against the passenger door like she’s considering jumping out of a moving vehicle. She’s pale, trembling, and there’s blood at the corner of her mouth from where that piece of shit slammed her head against the wall.
I want to kill him. I want to drag him somewhere quiet and spend hours making him regret every breath he’s ever taken, but right now, I have one priority, which is to get her to safety. “She’s coming with me, and I’ll drive. Call Maksim to pick you up and then have him meet me at her place.”
He nods. “You’re taking her to the estate?”
I don’t even glance at her before answering. “Yes. Something’s not right about this.”
He steps back, and I start the engine, pulling away from the alley. I focus on driving, but my peripheral vision is locked on Sabrina. She’s holding her stomach with both hands in that protective gesture I’ve already learned to recognize, and the sight of it sends something possessive and violent surging through my chest.
Fifteen weeks pregnant with my child, and some lowlife thought he could put his hands on her? The rage is so intense it’s almost blinding.
“Where are we going?” Her voice comes out shaky and small.
“Your apartment. You’re going to pack.”
She stills for a moment. “Pack for what?”