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“Mutual friend?”

“Grigoriy Volkov,” he whispers, leaning in so I can smell the acrid scent of his breath and the liquor he’s obviously consumed before he came here.

The smoke alarm is still shrieking in the distance, and I hear a crackle of flames and a creak of wood. “Did you set my house on fire?” I ask, trying to ignore the fact that the Kukris are paying off cops in my territory.

“All the better for burning you with my dear.”

“Where are my men?”

“Dead,” he says with fake remorse. “I didn’t come alone, Annika. Volkov’s men have the place surrounded. When you’re dead and turned to ashes, I’m getting a nice pay out. Enough to move to the Caribbean and start my life over with my feet in the sand and a piña colada in hand.” He gives me that sicko grin again and I grimace. “Now, I’m gonna fuck you, then kill you. But if you keep fighting me, it might not be in that order.”

Panic rises in my throat making me gag and he moves in closer, pressing his body against mine. It takes me all of five seconds to I remember who the fuck I am. I may have coweredand cried twelve years ago but I’m not the same broken little girl as I was then. If I can get the gun in my desk drawer, I can end him as I should have years ago. Taking a deep breath and straightening my spine, I swing my arm and wield the knife. I’m aiming for his neck but as he moves to avoid the hit, I bury the blade in his shoulder.

Stumbling back, he grips at the wound, roaring in pain. I try scrambling to the desk, but he lunges forward with murder in his eyes. Before he can reach me though, he’s swiped from my sight.

46

HARVEY

Gibson drives us in his patrol car, thankfully he agrees to put the lights on although I told him to lose the siren when we get closer to the mansion. There’s no one in the security booth, so he pulls the car up to the gate and we get out. The moment I’m in the fresh air, I see the body on the other side of the gate. I kneel on the pavement, reaching through the bars to check his pulse with two fingers on his wrist. I find nothing.

“Murray,” I try shaking him but with the angle, it’s difficult. “Come on, man. Wake up.”

His head is turned the other way and I stand to look at him catching sight of his eyes, open and unblinking.

“Shit, is he dead?” Gibson comes to my side, gun drawn.

“Yeah,” I say, my throat thick. “Check the booth,” I command and relax a little when he takes the order.

“There’s another body,” he calls, and I head over to see the guard who first let me through the gate on my first night with Annika, slumped dead against the wall of the booth. “We should call for back up,” Gibson says, panic evident in his voice.

“No!” I snap. “We don’t know who Marks is working with.”

“You think Marks did this?” He looks incredulous.

“After everything I just told you, you think he isn’t behind this?” I hiss.

He looks unsure, frowning down at the dead security guard. I tap the code into the computer and watch as the gates slowly slide apart. All the security who patrol the property carry rifles but neither Murray nor the guard have them. Marks has taken their weapons.

“You have another gun?” I ask Gibson.

“No,” he says. “And I can’t hand over my service weapon anyway, you’re still technically a prisoner.”

I roll my eyes at that and head over to Murray, crouching by his body and patting him down. Trust Murray to have a handgun hidden in his boot.

“Thanks, buddy,” I whisper.

We’re heading cautiously to the house when the sound of shots fired crack through the air. We run toward the noise, weapons drawn and steps quiet.

“Get down!” Lee’s voice shouts across the grounds. I can’t see him, and I don’t think he’s talking to us. Shouts echo in the air from the other side of the mansion and we keep heading in the right direction. Rounding the corner, we’re faced with a wall of men with their backs to us. They have their weapons trained across the patio where I can see Lee and his men using an overturned table as a shield, crouching low and pointing their guns at the people in front of us.

Gibson and I look at each other and each nod in silent agreement of what we must do.

“Police! Drop your weapons, hands where I can see them,” I shout.

“Turn around slowly,” Gibson warns.

They all turn but none of them drop their weapons. They laugh when they see us, but I’m happy enough to be the distraction as Lee and his guys advance on silent feet.