Fate Intended (The Coulter Men Series Book 3) (22 page)

*****

Trip clutched the phone in his hand. The room was deathly quiet, so the sounds of Jane’s screams echoed in the room.

Then suddenly they stopped. Trip could hear breathing on the other end. “Jane, baby? You all right?”

Then the connection ended. The room was deathly quiet until someone let out a tired sigh, followed by another’s plea for God to help, then a strangled cry from Sasha, who turned and bolted from the room. Frankie followed her; the heavy door slammed behind him. Trip scanned the faces in the room for an answer. All he saw was pale and helpless looks staring up at him—all but Mason. The chubby man clicked away on his laptop as if he never heard the call. Trip’s jaw clenched with irritation at the sound. His eyes narrowed, and he was a breath away from taking the laptop and smashing it against the wall.

Then as loudly as a head-on collision on a highway, Mason spun his squeaky chair around, ripped off his headset and announced with a smile, “I got the ping! Here’s the address.”

Chapter 28

He dragged her from the room with just one hand clamped round her throat. She grabbed at the doorframe, but had to let go. The pressure on her throat was making it impossible to breath, so she put every bit of effort into trying to pry his hands loose. Nikki squeezed tighter. Jane’s feet kicked wildly left and right until she made contact with the wall behind her. Blood pounded in her temples, so she tried in vain to crawl up the wall to relieve the pressure.

“Who did you call?”

She couldn’t answer, couldn’t scream…only a watery gurgle.

“You just couldn’t stay dead, could you? You always have to complicate things! I could have given you the world. The world, Anya! All you had to do was love me.”

“Go to hell.” It was barely a whisper; the words were hardly even intelligible.

“Not before you, little sister. And before you die…I want you to know…your whore friend is going to die too. Just because you’ve totally pissed me off. I was going to sell her back into the sex trade she loves so much, but maybe I will have her cut into tiny little pieces. Listen to her scream. You think she’d beg me for mercy?”

Jane’s eyes rolled in her head and a merciful blackness almost consumed her, but Nikki released his grip, and her greedy lungs sucked a raspy, cool breath of air. Her body crumpled to the floor, and she coughed, her throat felt like fire.

Kneeling in front of her, he took her chin in his hands and lifted her face to his. “I’m also going to find out who was on the phone, and I’m going to put a bullet between his eyes,
Jane.
He sounded far more concerned than a simple acquaintance. What kind of game have you been playing while hiding from me?”

“No games, Nikki. It was just a number Sasha told me to call if I was in trouble.”

Red faced, his words exploded from his mouth. “So, why did he call you
baby
? Why do you lie to me?”

“I’m sorry.” She covered her ears with her hands to muffle his words. “I won’t lie anymore. You are scaring me. That’s why I lie to you. I…I…love you, but you are making me feel very afraid.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. “Ah, sweet Anya. Come here.” Tucking her body into his, he held her, rocking her like a child and kissing the top of her head.

“Do you know…when you shoot someone in the head, there’s a red shower. It’s really rather beautiful. When my men kill Poppa, it’s going to be with a bullet to the face, and I’ve ordered them to set a canvas behind him to catch the spray. That’s art, little sister.”

“Jesus, Nikki.” She tried to push away from him.

Squeezing her to him, his arms felt like a vice. Her brother was double her size, a big man like her father. He sighed. “I didn’t figure you’d appreciate it. Knew you were playing me, pretending to love me. No, little sister, I know where your loyalties are, so no matter how much I wanted you with me…you have to stay dead.”

Her throat burned, and she swallowed hard, trying to speak carefully. “You’re right. I don’t see it. But Poppa was good to me.” She stopped pushing against him and pulled him to her for a hug. “But he was never kind to you like he was me. I’m sorry for that. I hated my mother. You were right, I didn’t care that she was dead. She was cruel to me. Said mean things to me all the time.” She nestled her cheek against his shoulder. “I do understand your anger, Nikki. Really, I do. And I do love you.”

Nikki gripped her body tight and buried his face in her hair. “He was going to turn me into the police, Anya. The police. I’m his son. His own flesh and blood.”

“I hate to believe that, but you must be right. Poppa must have changed.”

“Or maybe you weren’t seeing clearly.”

“Or that.” She gulped, took a deep breath, and continued, “He had no right to make me think I was wanted for murder. To hurt Aunt Tilley like that.”

“She was devastated. I held her hand at your funeral…. Wondered if she would collapse from the pain.”

“He had no right. And neither did Sasha.”

Pushing her away, he looked down at her as if judging her sincerity. His face softened, and he cradled her cheeks in his hands. “I won’t let them hurt you again.”

Giving his hands a squeeze, she leaned forward and kissed him. As his lips explored hers, one thought flashed through her mind—she would go to hell for this, but she had to do something, anything, to buy some time. A tear slid down her cheek as his hand moved up her shirt, touching soft flesh that belonged to another. A fire started to burn in her chest as the street fighter’s blood reminded her that a Sarkhov never surrenders. As he trailed kisses down her throat, she pulled off her shoe and brought it across his temple with as much force as she could muster. Again and again she hit him, causing him to back away and cover himself like a wounded child.

“I hate you, Nikki! I despise you. I loathe you. I can’t even stand to let you touch me long enough to kill you.” She spit on him, kicked him with her still-shoed foot. He grabbed her leg and jerked her off her feet. Falling to the floor, she hit the ground fighting.

Digging her nails into the soft tissue of Nikki’s face, she mercilessly pinned flesh to bone, then ripped, dragging her nails from his ears to his nose. He yelped and cursed, blood draining instantly from the marks.

As he gingerly touched his damaged face, Jane took the moment to leap to her feet and kick him with all her might, not knowing where her blow would land. He roared as her foot landed on his groin. She ran, a little off balance, and bumped into the dresser on her way to the door.

Looking back at him, he stayed curled up, coughing. The door was locked. Deadbolt, lock, slider. As trembling hands undid the locks, she could hear him getting to his feet. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him pull the gun from the back of his waist.

Her heart raced, but she forced her hands to be calm.

Snapping the last lock free, she swung the door open. Instead of a clear path to freedom, a body of flesh blocked the door. She shoved hard, ready to punch and kick some more. He grabbed her by the arms and tossed her like a rag doll onto the concrete concourse. She lay there on the ground looking up at him, bewildered and stunned.

“Run!” he ordered as he drew a gun from his jacket. She saw the weapon and crawled backward, petrified to turn her back on the man. “Run!” he shouted again, giving her shoe a kick.

Pow! Pow!

Gunfire. She covered her ears and let out a shriek. In the silence that followed, she looked at her chest for blood, but there was nothing. The man in the doorway flinched. Then she saw the blood. It poured from his shoulder. He fired back into the room, as he shouted to Jane, “Get the hell out!”

More shots. This man was evidently her rescue, but he was losing. His body jerked again, then again. His eyes were wide open as if by instinct. He retreated until he was backed up against the metal railing. Another step and he dropped the twenty feet to the parking lot below. Someone opened a door and screamed, then slammed it closed again. Nikki stepped out of the door and grabbed Jane by the hair and dragged her to her feet.

“You stupid bitch. See what you’ve done? This could have been so easy. Now look. Police will be called. An innocent man is dead. Does it make you feel better, Anya? Make you feel important?” He dragged her toward the hotel steps.

Jane kicked him in a high judo slam to the chest.

He absorbed the kick with a grunt, then yanked harder on her hair. “Enough, Anya. Poppa taught me the tricks as well.” He then let go of her hair, spun in a half circle, then brought his foot up under her chin.

She felt her teeth clip together, felt the pain explode in her chin. Touching her hand to her chin, she pulled it away dripping in blood. She felt the rage rise in her. She dipped her shoulder and rammed her body into his chest, knocking him off balance and causing them both to tumble down the steps.

Landing on top of him, his head hit the concrete, but hers was spared. Jane heard the sirens in the distance.

How far were they? And were they coming here? She didn’t know.

Nikki appeared to be unconscious, so she searched around and under his body for his gun. She found it. She checked the clip. Plenty of shots left. She would hold him here. Someone would call the police. She could run, but what if he got away, went after her father, Sasha, and Trip?

She worked her way over to the wall, scooting herself back, resting her head against the cool stucco. Her face hurt. Her teeth hurt. And it hurt like hell to swallow. But she was alive.

Nikki started to rouse. He looked up at her and smiled. “Bravo, little sister. You win.” He drew himself to a seated position, his ears perked to distant sirens. “I’ve learned my lesson, Anya. Let me go before they get here.” Tears sparkled in his eyes. “I won’t hurt you, I swear. I will go away and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“Hah!” Jane wiped at the still dripping blood. “You’ve already hurt me.” Her voice was hoarse and she could barely talk.

“I was angry. I didn’t think you deserved the Sarkhov legacy. But now I know. I know you’re strong, and I know you do deserve it. I respect you now.”

“Did you respect Poppa?”

“He
didn’t
love me!” Nikki’s face looked contorted as he shouted the words at her. “He never loved me!”

“So, you killed him?”

“I didn’t.”

“You told me!”

Nikki took a deep breath and said calmly, “He’s not dead…yet. Let me go and I will make sure he is set free.”

“I can’t trust you. You’re sick, Nikki. I am your sister. What you asked of me in there…is sacrilege.”

“Don’t waste my time with morality lessons based on fairy tales.” Leaning his head against the wall, he added, “Just let me go.”

“No, Nikki. You’re insane. You have to be put away so you can’t hurt anyone.”

Nikki’s laugh frightened her.

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You think putting me in jail will keep you safe? Trust me, Anya, I’ve hidden enough cash and I have enough connections. I can blackmail half of Washington, London, Paris…. Don’t you know?” He pointed to himself. “I am a titan. I swear to you, lock me up, I will kill everyone you love. Even whatever scraggly little pets you harbor.” He laughed and rolled his head against the wall. “No, little sister, you better just kill me now. I swear to you on all that is unholy…tormenting you will be my life’s work.” His face was grave, sincere. “So, either show me mercy and trust my honor or shoot me right now. Those
are
the
only
options you can live with.”

Nikki got to his knees and crawled at her, his face within inches of Jane’s. She lifted the gun pressing it to his forehead.

“Go ahead. Shoot me. Don’t be cruel and lock me up like an animal. I beg you.”

Jane’s hands shook. She told herself to pull the trigger, but she was looking in his eyes. Eyes as clear and blue as her own.

She closed her eyes, cocked the hammer…but those eyes were still there.

She sighed and relaxed her grip on the gun. He smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Anya. I wish things could have been different. I wish we could have been friends.” He leaned back on his heels. “You are too trusting. Always remember that.” He stood to leave turning his back to her, looking back only to wave good-bye. Jane dropped the gun on the sidewalk and let her tears fall.

She covered her eyes with her hands and let the sobs wrack her body. The calm was gone, all that was left were raw nerves and pain. She needed to get to a phone, call Sasha and her father. And Trip.

She felt him. His body blocked the sun and casted a shadow over her. Instinct told her to grab the gun, but she was a second too slow. She shook her head and cursed her stupidity. She looked up at him, “Why, Nikki?”

“Because I am the bad guy? Because I don’t like loose ends? What reason will make you happy? How disappointed will you be when I tell you it was for the money and the power? With father gone, I control everything. No Viktor Sarkhov and his
code of honor
to get in the way of business.”

Cocking the hammer on the revolver, he sighed. “But I never wanted you to die. Not the first time, not this time. You’re all of her I have left.”

Jane beat her fists against the concrete. “Shut up! I’m not her! I’m nothing like her! If you’re going to shoot me, just do it.”

“Don’t be so testy. You were the one who asked the question in the first place.”

“Go to hell.”

“You first.” Nikki placed the gun against her forehead.

Jane took a deep breath. She never thought about dying, never gave any consideration to her body being breakable, so she never really had a preconceived idea about how she would react to impending death. She supposed she should see her life flash before her eyes, be gripped by fear, or be lost in prayer.

One simple phrase went through her mind—
well, this sucks.
Squaring her chin, she looked her brother in the eye. He might end her life, but he would never get the satisfaction of hearing her beg. He might have cried like a baby for mercy, but she’d die a thousand times before she gave him that pleasure.

Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d get to haunt his ass.