Page 113 of Arranged Devotion
I make it halfway up when he appears in the gloom, a thick gash of red on his forehead, a manic gleam in his eyes.
Our eyes lock. Max Baranov seems more surprised than I am. He’s in a shirt, partway untucked, and trousers, no shoes, no socks. His hands are bloody, and he seems dazed, but there’s a burning recognition.
“Liam fucking Lankshear!” he roars and throws himself toward me.
I’m lucky he’s coming like a wild man. I manage to move sideways and evade the worst of his attack. He doesn’t have a weapon, but he pummels me like a psycho, fists flailing and jaw snapping. He hits the banister, sags, nearly goes over, but kicks me in the teeth before flinging himself forward again. I catch an elbow, punch him in the gut, and then we’re tumbling together. My head hits the wall, the railing, his chest. Stars brighten in my vision. Max lands on top of me, but I kick him off and roll to the side, trying to get my sidearm out, my rifle lost somewhere in the fight.
“You shouldn’t have come here!” Max gets to his feet eerily fast, laughing as he does it. “You shouldn’t have tried!”
“Fuck off.” I aim my gun and fire, but I miss. Max lunges, drives a fist in my jaw, and grabs at my gun barrel. I squeeze two more shots wildly before I have to twist, shouldering Max against the steps. We struggle for the gun before a piece of the burning house comes undone, crashing down nearby, sending more smoke and sparks flying.
I lose my grip. The weapon spins from my fingers and clatters to the floor. Max watches it and there’s a moment when we could go after it, right until more fire flares where the gun landed, swallowing it in heat and ash.
I knee Max in the gut and launch myself up the steps.
“Come back and play!” Max screams after. I scramble, climbing toward clearer air. I gasp, pulling in as much into my burning lungs as I can, a creeping awareness of being chased tingling inthe back of my head. Max storms after me as I manage to reach the top landing in time to twist.
He comes at me wildly, swinging, trying to grab my ankle. I brace myself on the wall and the banister, lifting myself up to plant the heel of my boot right in his nose. It cracks nicely, a good crunch of cartilage, and blood spurts down his mouth. I kick, shoving, and knock Max backwards, sending him tumbling down the steps again as more fire roars around the stairwell. He disappears into the inferno.
“Fucking psycho,” I say through my teeth.
But I’m here and the destination isn’t far. I turn, limping on a bad leg, clutching my side where Max must’ve broken a rib, or maybe the fall did that, I can’t be sure. The house seems empty now, which is good. I make it to the office and duck inside, the room fortunately clear of fire. I throw open a window, gasp at the fresh air, and gather myself for a split second before ransacking a massive oak executive desk, looking for files.
I’m hurrying but there’s nothing obviously jumping out at me. I find a gun in the bottom drawer and shove it in my belt, kicking over the chair with a snarl. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. If I were going to hide important documents, where would they go?
The space is large. Bookshelves dominate most of the walls. There’s a couch, a fireplace, and art above the mantle, a lion sinking its teeth into a lamb’s throat. Gruesome and boring shit. The books look normal and there’s no obvious filing cabinet. Fuck, if our intelligence was wrong, if Kieren lied?—
The door to the office kicks open and Max staggers through.
I step back in surprise. He’s bleeding, his face livid with ugly, blackish red burns, the skin partially melted. His teeth show through his cheek in a macabre rictus.
“What are you doing in here, Liam?” He slurs the words, his jaw not working right. “God, I’m going to enjoy killing you so much.”
“Where are the Corrigan files, Max? I know you’re keeping them in here. Think they’ll survive the fire?”
There’s a brief moment, just enough time, where his eyes flick over to the lion painting and back to me. His smile doesn’t waver.
“How about I beat you senseless, tie you to a chair, and leave you here to find out? Won’t that be?—“
I don’t let him finish. I draw the gun and shoot him in the face.
His skull explodes as his head snaps back. He drops to the floor, crumbling and ruined.
I run to the painting over the fireplace and rip it off the wall. Smoke’s rolling under the office door. I growl in frustration at the electronic lock on a high-tech private safe. No doubt it’s got the dossier in there, but what the fuck am I going to do? I can’t crack it, not with this place burning down around me. I couldn’t do it with a million years and a nuke. Of course they have a fucking fancy safe.
Grunting in anger, I look around for something to use to batter the fucking wall into submission—when my eyes land on Max’s corpse.
I’m laughing as I drag him over. “Heavy fucker,” I mutter, throwing him over my shoulder and lifting, the man’s dead weight making me stumble. I get myself under control and grabhis wrist, holding his finger up to a small biometric fingerprint scanner beside the number pad. It’s a whim, but when I tap the unlock button, the lights on the front panel turn to green and there’s a satisfying thud as the door pops open.
“Hey, look at that, you were useful after all.” I let his corpse dump to the ground as I grab everything inside. Money, a few gold bars, another gun, and more files, dozens of them. I don’t have time to go through it all. I shove it into the bag as fire licks around the edges of the door, seeping into the room, creeping toward me.
I cough, hacking and run to a back window. I throw the chair through, smashing it, and leap out behind as all that lovely kindling in those beautiful leatherbound paper books catch at once with a roar. Cursing, I nearly fall off the fucking roof, only catching myself on a storm drain at the last second, my fingers digging into the pipe.
“I had total faith!” Finn calls from near the pool as I lower myself down. I land in an undignified heap.
“I bet you did,” I grumble and shove the bag of loot in his chest. “Call for the retreat.”
“Already did.”
