Page 27 of Ballistic

“I knew her. Very well.”

“Tesarik did this.”

“Not directly, no.” A quick glance back allowed me to see a flicker of wrath in her eyes, too. “It was his website and his production company, though.”

“So, you hoped to find out who killed the girl.”

“Her video had been commissioned by someone. Someone paid to see this happen to her. I wanted all three. The men who raped her, and the one who paid for it.”

“You allowed yourself to be taken in to find her killers. Christ, Nicoleta, you could’ve suffered the same fate.”

“So be it. If I go back to Dmitry, he’ll lock me away, like Rapunzel. He’s protective, you know.”

“Which is what you need right now. Tesarik won’t stop looking for you.”

“Then, why not let me stay with you?”

“No.” I shook my head and flicked my cigarette into the glass of water I’d have to replace for her. “I’m bad news. A fucking walking bullseye. You’d be another target.”

“I am a target. Whether I sit locked in a room, or run the streets, eventually, they’ll come for me.”

“I know someone who can keep you in hiding, if you need that. He’s … sort of a big deal in the underground.”

“I don’t want to hide, Dax.” Cigarette dangling from her fingertips, she stepped toward me. “I want the men who killed the girl.”

“No. Count me out.” I pushed up from the chair and swiped up the pack of smokes, stuffing them into my back pocket. “Look, I searched all over Hell’s half acre to find you, and I’ll be damned if I let you dive headfirst into a fucking shark tank again. You’re vulnerable. Young. Slightly naïve. They’ll pick you up before you even know what hit you.” As she opened her mouth to spout another argument, I lifted my finger into the air to silence her. “The answer is no. End of stor—”

A splintering crack of the front door shot like a bolt of lightning down my spine. I exchanged a glance with Nicoleta, and held my finger to my lips. My gun sat tucked in the nightstand in my bedroom, and with light steps, I tiptoed toward the door.

Peering through the crack showed no movement. I stepped out into the hallway, sliding along the wall to my bedroom, where I slipped inside and slowly slid out the drawer. Magazine was full on checking, and I shoved it back into the gun and padded out into the hallway, toward the kitchen.

Light from the living room illuminated the corridor, and I could see from where I stood that the door had been kicked in. Finger on the trigger, I readied myself to shoot the first thing that moved.

A shot pinged to my right, and I ducked down on instinct, swung the gun left, racked the chamber, and shot twice. I backed myself into the hallway again. Another shot whizzed past my face. A third hit the wall near my thigh.

I shot again, and a searing hot pain slammed into my shoulder. Hand slapped to the wound, I fell back against the wall and lowered my gun. A shadow moved in my periphery, and ignoring the pain, I jumped to my feet, gun aimed at the bastard who had his barrel pointed at me.

“Who are you?” I gritted out.

“Looks like I’m the lucky bastard who’s about to put a bullet in your skull.” His lips stretched into a smile, as, eyes on mine, he raised a second gun. That one aimed square at my nuts.

Fuck.

Something brushed against my shoulder from behind, and in the next blink, the man stood wide-eyed with the hilt of a blade sticking out of his throat. An errant shot fired and ricocheted off the floor, hitting the wall.

As he fell to his knees, I stood dumbfounded, watching the blood trickle down his neck. With a tug, he yanked the blade loose, and more blood poured from the wound. Temple first, he hit the floor on a thud, his palm losing the battle against the blood gushing from his throat.

Mouth gaping, I turned to find Nicoleta standing behind me.

Small. Young. Seemingly innocent Nicoleta, who stared back as if killing the man were nothing.

My eyes shot back to the dead guy, then to her again. “You learn that shit in the circus, or something?”

Sparing no more than a glance, she strode past me and knelt down beside the stranger still struggling on the floor. “He might be one of Dmitry’s. Unfortunately, he can’t answer any questions.”

“Or one of Tesarik’s. Which means we have to leave. Now.”

She pushed to her feet and rushed back toward the bedroom, while I followed at her heels. “There will be others. We can’t leave through the front.” She slipped on the sweats and the T-shirt laid out on the chair.