Page 14 of One Dark Kiss (Grimm Bargains #2)

FOURTEEN

Rosalie

B ile rises in my throat, and I swallow rapidly, trying to keep lunch in my stomach. It s impossible to think clearly right now. I won t say my upbringing was sheltered, but I haven t seen violence like this. The body by the road doesn t move. His head exploded like he swallowed a grenade.

No way is he still alive.

There s no expression on Alexei s face as he stares at me, a gun in his hand. I blink. This isn t happening. Slowly I start to back away. He releases the ladder, his gaze intense as he prowls toward me.

I trip over uneven gravel and kick my foot back to regain my balance, my left heel hitting a concrete block. I want to run, but I can t move. His eyes are dark pools with no emotion. Not a speck of blood mars his dark jacket.

You killed them. I try to shake myself awake.

Get back to the bike, he orders.

The bike. I d forgotten all about the bike. No. I look frantically around for an escape as adrenaline floods my body through the shock.

He shoves what looks like dirty dishcloths into his pocket before slipping that gun in the front of his waistband. Rosalie, we have to get out of here. Without waiting for a response, he grabs my arm and starts pulling me back toward the car of death, his grip relentless.

No. I panic, pushing against him, kicking him.

His stride doesn t shorten, and I have no choice but to follow him before I trip.

If I fall, he ll just drag me. I push loosely against him.

Alexei, you killed three men. You re not even supposed to have a gun.

I haven t secured him a new trial yet. He s not a felon since the court overturned his conviction, but I bet that gun is not registered.

We re lucky I have one, he says grimly, so much taller than me that I feel truly vulnerable for the first time.

We reach the vehicle, and he stops before finally looking me over head to toe. What did you touch? You re covered in blood.

Everything, I explode. I was trying to find a phone. I checked the two men in the car who were dead and couldn t find any sort of phone to call for help. The images of their wounds and so much blood will haunt me forever, and I try not to look at them now.

Alexei s gaze sweeps me. My hands and white shirt are covered in blood since I tried to stem the bleeding chest of the man half out of the car.

Trying to help him had been an instinctual response.

When I realized he was dead, I tried to run, keeping close to the warehouse buildings.

I hustled toward the main road, hoping I was running in the right direction.

I saw the man standing, smoking a cigarette, and then two shots echoed from above me. From Alexei.

He d killed so easily. So expertly.

He drops his head for a moment and closes his eyes. You touched everything? You mean your fingerprints are all over that car?

Probably. I punch him as hard as I can in the arm, and his grip remains tight.

He waits until I look up at his eyes before he releases me. Why the hell were you looking in that car? They re obviously dead.

I had tried to save one guy first. I was looking for a phone to call the police.

Alexei blinks once, very slowly. A pit of dread drops into my stomach.

The police? He slowly shakes his head. Goddamn it, Rosalie. Red spirals across the top of his finely cut cheekbones and fury lifts his eyes, but his voice remains deadly soft.

I gulp and want to explain myself. But that s just wrong, so I remain silent. Who is this man? I scan for an escape route and only see dilapidated buildings and torn-up asphalt. There s nowhere for me to run.

Stay here, he orders and strides toward the last man he killed.

My legs wobble and I look around. Wait a minute. The bike! I can t remember if he left the key in the ignition or not. If he did, I can escape on the motorcycle.

I run as fast as I can back to that hidden warehouse, dodging inside and scrambling for the vehicle. No key. My heart absolutely sinks. I have no idea how to hot-wire a motorcycle.

I look around for a weapon and spot what looks like a rusty old tire iron in the corner. It s better than nothing. I scramble over garbage and a couple of torn, gray boxes to reach the makeshift weapon. The dirty metal is heavy and scratches my hands.

Then I hurry outside looking for Alexei, reaching the wrecked car and dead bodies.

Even if I can reach a main road, we re in the middle of nowhere.

But I have to get away from him. I look up to see him walking toward the car with the body of the third man over his shoulder.

He opens the back door and shoves the guy inside. What in the heck is he doing?

Turning to glare at me, he throws the rags inside and returns to the trunk where I can t see him. It s open, and the lid hides him, but smoke soon spirals from both sides. He must ve taken the lighter from the smoker.

Now might be my only chance. So I turn and begin running in the opposite direction, my kitten heels sliding on the uneven ground.

He s on me before I even know he s coming. You re not going anywhere. He snags the nape of my neck and yanks me to a stop. Heat flares up my esophagus, and I whirl, swinging the tire iron with all of my strength.

He grabs my wrist, but the end still hits his jacket with a satisfying thunk. Damn it. Wrenching the rusty weapon out of my hand, he drags me toward the now burning vehicle.

I uselessly try to punch him, but my fist glances off his jacket.

We reach the cinder block where I d hit my heel. The one that had stopped me before.

Knees, he snaps.

I blink. What is he saying?

One sharp hand smacks the back of both of my knees, and I drop, more out of surprise than pain.

Cross your ankles, he snarls.

I do so, my mind spinning, knowing the vulnerable position will keep me from moving fast. Is he going to kill me, too? What had I been thinking taking this case?

Trying to free a killer? He might not have stabbed David Fairfax to death, but he certainly killed the three men in the now smoking car.

He releases me. Move and you ll fucking regret it.

I watch his boots stride away.

Blinking away tears, I look up, remaining in place.

More smoke begins to rise around the car.

His face set in a grim mask, he walks to the passenger side of the vehicle and lifts the heavyset man back inside, flicking a silver lighter.

It s the one I saw the guy at the end of the road use to light a cigarette.

Alexei leans down. Soon more flames and smoke become visible. He walks around to the other side and lights the driver s shirt on fire. Then he ducks between a couple of warehouses and returns with what looks like a bunch of dried leaves and grass that he throws in the back seat.

I m frozen in place and can t move. All I can do is watch. He ignores me, entering and emerging from several of the abandoned warehouses, and returning with more cardboard and discarded materials to throw on the front seat of the car, which is swiftly becoming engulfed in flames.

He almost too easily kicks open the doors to two more warehouses on my side. Smoke is billowing big black rolls into the sky, and he s still not appeased. Finally, he exits one of the warehouses with two bottles in his hands, his expression intense. What are they?

My head and knees both hurt, and my temper is beginning to finally return.

The hood of the car has popped open, and he smiles, pointing the cans and squirting a liquid. Fire immediately roars from the engine. He tosses the two cans into the vehicle and then turns, stalking rapidly my way.

My stomach rolls over. I make a small sound of fear in my throat and hope he doesn t hear it.

He wraps one hand around my bicep and pulls me to stand before yanking off his jacket. Put this on.

No, I say, my hands lifting to ward him off as I back away.

He moves toward me as if not caring, grabs me, and forces my arms into the jacket before he zips it. You re covered in blood. You need to at least hide that.

I blink, finally coming awake. I m not going with you.

I don t have time for this. He ducks his head, tosses me over his shoulder, and breaks into a run.

My stomach protests as his movements batter against my lower abdomen. I shriek and pound the bottom of his back. This can t be happening. The fire and the smoke are choking the entire area, and my eyes start to water.

We reach his bike. He slides on before putting me on the back and ignites the engine smoothly. We have to get out of here, he mutters as he swings the bike in an arc.

I numbly wrap my arms around his torso and hold on.

He s just wearing the thin T-shirt, and I can feel the taut muscles of his abs.

I turn my head to the side and rest my cheek against his back, my entire body exhausted.

I can t believe he just killed three men.

They were shooting at us, but we could have gotten away. I think.

We drive right by the burning car, and I close my eyes from the devastation.

An explosion echoes loudly behind us as he roars onto the main road and opens the throttle. All I can do is hold on and try not to throw up. I ve never seen such casual violence. In fact, I hadn t realized violence could be casual.

We ride for what has to at least be an hour.

Alexei breathes calmly beneath my hands, and I partially slide my hand up to feel over his heart. Just curious. The organ is beating steadily, not wildly. He s as calm as if we just had a nice lunch by the river.

I can t believe this. It s my job to make sure he stays out of prison. There isn t a doubt in my mind that s exactly where he belongs. Even if this can be considered self-defense, which frankly, I m not sure he needed to kill those men, he s far more dangerous than I realized.

I know I m still in shock, but there s nothing I can do right now with his big body controlling the motorcycle. I have to plan. I m a planner, so I try to force myself back to reality.

How can I call the police? Will that be an ethical violation? He s my client, and the crime is already over. I have a duty to inform the police if I suspect a crime is going to be committed, not afterward. Yet I m a witness to this one.

I open my eyes to discover we re in a wooded area way outside of Silicon Valley. I assumed he wanted to head back into the city.

He drives around several trees on a dirt road until he reaches what looks like a small camping area near a trickling creek. He pauses near a picnic table and cuts the engine before tugging me off of the bike. My feet hit the ground, and I start to backpedal away.

He swings his leg over. Stop.

My body stops. I don t know why. I need to run. Is he going to kill me, too? I can t say anything because I m your lawyer, I say, noting the key still in the bike.

I know that. He reaches for me, and I shrink back. A small chuckle emerges from his chest as he sticks his hand in his jacket pocket that I m wearing and pulls out a phone. I borrowed this from our friend along with his lighter.

Our friend. The third man Alexei had so easily murdered.

What are you going to do?

He lifts the phone to his ear, waits a second, and then issues a series of what sound like orders in Russian.

The words barely free of his mouth, he clicks the phone shut and tears the device apart, dropping it to the ground and stomping on it.

It s a burner. But even still, we can t be too careful.

I stare at him. I don t know what you just said. My friend Alana can speak several languages. I, however, only speak English.

I called for help. He unzips the jacket that s keeping me warm.

I let him take it and try not to look down at the blood covering my white blouse.

He throws the jacket into the pit of a long-dormant campfire before turning to stare at me. Take off your clothes, Rosalie.