Kissing The Enemy (26 page)

P
ain
.

First a hard, ringing pain as my head hit the wooden floor of the gallery. Then, as my head cleared, a tearing, burning pain in my shoulder. It came in waves, as if a giant was standing on my shoulder and rocking back and forth. I looked down.

Vasiliy was dangling from my hand, his fingers just barely hooked in mine.

The gallery creaked beneath us. “
Climb,
you asshole!” I yelled.

Vasiliy heaved and swung himself up, grabbing my arm with his other hand. It felt as though he was going to tear the damn thing off. Then he got hold of my back and the edge of the gallery and finally he could pull himself up. He hauled me to my feet and we staggered together through the door we’d first come through and back down the hallway. No more than thirty seconds later, we heard the remains of the gallery crash down into the fire.

Vasiliy turned and looked at me. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know how.

He was saved by Luka, who ran up out of the smoke. “She’s not that way,” he panted, pointing behind him.

The games room and the minstrel’s gallery were the back of the building—there was nothing else in that direction. “Then she’s not on this floor,” I said.

“She must be,” said Vasiliy. “We’ve searched every room below. This is the top floor.”

There was a sickening groan as the timbers that supported the house began to give up their fight. Flames were breaking through the floor in several places. The whole place was coming down. We looked at each other. “The bastard slipped past us,” said Luka. “He got past us and took a car. He could be miles away!”

He started to run for the stairs but I grabbed his jacket. “Wait!” I snapped.

“What?” He shook free of me. “We have to go! They’re getting away!”

“
Listen!”

He glared at me but listened. And then he heard it: the dull whump of helicopter blades.

“They didn’t get past us,” I said. “They’re on the roof!”

T
he roof
of the mansion was a good facsimile of hell.

Mikhail and I were standing on a narrow stone walkway formed by the top of the walls. It ran all the way around the building and it was the only stable part left: the whole center of the roof was rapidly collapsing, the timbers and sagging as they gave, every one of the ancient slate tiles edged with cherry-red light as the fire broke through from below.

A bitter wind was blasting snow almost horizontally across us. It would have been freezing even in clothes: I was in my underwear. While one side of our bodies froze, the other roasted in the flames that were erupting through the roof. All of the smoke that had choked us inside was pouring up into the sky in a pillar so thick it almost looked solid: when the wind whipped it towards us, we couldn’t see.

And the walkway had no walls. It was only a few feet wide, with a sheer drop to one side of us and an inferno to the other.  

I heard the helicopter before I saw it. Then I scanned the sky, squinting against the wind, and finally made out its lights in the distance. It was coming straight towards us, fighting the side winds. If it could hover above us, we might just be able to climb aboard to safety….

Safety and a life as Mikhail’s prisoner. And all for nothing.
Angelo is dead.

I looked at the edge of the roof. Even death was better than what Mikhail had planned for me. He’d taken the only man I’d ever loved from me. If I did it right, I could take him with me when I died. I was a lot lighter than Mikhail but, if I threw myself suddenly enough, just as he was off balance, I should be able to pull him with me off the roof.

I glanced across at him. His eyes were fixed on the helicopter. I sidled a little closer to him, so that the handcuff chain went slack. I didn’t want it to hold me back. I wanted it to snap taut with as much energy as possible. I took a deep breath. Bent my knees.
I love you, Angelo.

There was a
clang
as the metal hatch that led onto the roof flew open. My head whipped around...and my jaw dropped. The hatch was almost halfway around the mansion from the walkway where we now stood, but I would have recognized him from a mile away. “
Angelo!”
I screamed in delight.

Mikhail cursed and raised his gun, narrowing his eyes and squinting as the wind whipped snow and smoke into his face. I grabbed for his gun hand, but I was on the wrong side and there was no room on the narrow walkway to step around him. I looked at Angelo. He was heaving himself up onto the roof, but that meant both hands were occupied: he couldn’t shoot back. He was a sitting duck.

There was only one thing to do.

I jumped off the roof.

I
saw
Mikhail take aim at me.
Shit!
I couldn’t go back: Luka was behind me on the ladder. I’d hoped to climb up silently and take the bastard by surprise, but the wind had whipped the hatch cover out of my hands. All I could do was heave myself up onto the roof as fast as possible and hope he missed...but even at this distance, it was an easy shot.

Then I saw Irina tense her legs. I realized what she was going to do a split second before she did it. “
No!
” I screamed.

She jumped. Hung there in that magical, weightless way she had, as graceful as if she was on stage. Her hair fanned out around her, rising and then sinking in slow motion….

And then she fell. Down, down, down, her head disappearing below the roof.

Mikhail cried out and jerked as the handcuffs went taut and he was pulled off his feet. His shot went high and he fell back towards the edge….

My heart stopped. I forgot how to breathe.

Mikhail thumped down on his back, still on the stone walkway that ran around the edge of the roof. Irina’s momentum had been enough to pull him over but not quite enough to pull him with her. His arm stretched out above his head and he grunted as he took her weight. I could see his arm flex and twist—she must be swinging from side to side.

I scrambled the rest of the way out of the hatch and ran along the stone walkway towards them. That’s when I found that the whole roof was covered in a slick layer of ice. Towards the center, the fire had melted it away but the cold stone at the edges was still slippery as hell. My legs shot out from under me and I almost went over the edge into the blackness beyond.
Shit!
I started moving more carefully, but that slowed me down. Irina and Mikhail were on the far side of the fucking building. It was going to take forever to work my way around the edge.

And I saw to my horror that Mikhail wasn’t just lying there, supporting Irina, as I’d thought. He was moving, inch by inch, towards the edge. The weight of Irina’s swinging body was dragging him over. He was trying to stop himself, but he only had one hand free to grab with and there was nothing to hang onto but smooth, icy stone.

There was no way I could get there in time, not if I followed the walkway all the way around. The only chance was to go straight across the middle of the flat roof, right over the fire.

I changed course and stepped onto the tiles. The timbers beneath my feet sunk sickeningly, throwing fresh sparks into the air, and tiles tumbled down into the fire, opening up holes that led straight down into hell.
Fuck.

Behind me, I heard Luka and then Vasiliy climb out of the hatch. “Stop!” yelled Luka.

Vasiliy cursed in Russian. I could hear the frustration in his voice: he wanted to do whatever it took to save Irina, too, but what I was trying was suicide. “It’ll collapse, you crazy bastard!”

He was right. It probably was suicide. And I probably was crazy. But I was crazy for her. And if she died, life wasn’t going to be worth living anyway.

I stared right at Mikhail’s sliding body, shut out everything else and
ran.

The first few steps weren’t so bad. The tiles sunk and cracked but I was past them too quickly for it to matter. But then my weight made one of the big roof timbers shift and it tipped to the side, tearing a hole the size of a sedan in the roof. Flames and heat blasted up, so bright I couldn’t look at them. I fell sideways and rolled.
Shit!
The tiles were as hot as a griddle pan! I could see steam rise from my clothes. I put out a hand to push myself up and—

Fuck.
I actually heard the sizzle. I staggered to my feet and ran on. The tiles I was stepping on didn’t feel like they were attached to anything, anymore: they just pushed down into nothingness as I stepped on them and I could see the light growing around me as more and more of the roof disintegrated.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down.
I sprinted towards Mikhail. The bastard’s head and shoulders were off the roof, now, and he was picking up speed.
Fuck!

I felt my feet start to fall through the roof. I launched myself forward with everything I had and landed on Mikhail’s legs, stopping his slide just in time.

I lay there for a second panting, clutching at him like a lover. Then I started to haul him in. It wasn’t easy, because I was moving his weight and Irina’s, but I slowly got his shoulders back onto the ledge and then his head—

He spat at me. I wanted to slug him but I needed both hands just to stop him slipping off the roof. I wondered why he hadn’t shot me with his free hand—had he lost his gun? Why wasn’t he trying to hit me?

Then I saw that his free hand was stretched out over his head, alongside the one that was chained to Irina. He was fiddling with something that glinted in the darkness. A key.

He was trying to open the handcuffs.

C
hyort
!

It was difficult to think through the pain. All of my weight was hanging from one wrist and the sharp metal cuff was pressing so hard into my flesh that I couldn’t feel my hand anymore. I was trying to keep still because every tiny movement made me swing, and when I swung it felt like my arm was being ripped out of its socket.

Most of the heat from the fire was rising straight up through the mansion, so now I was completely at the mercy of the wind. My almost-naked body was splattered with snow and I couldn’t stop shaking.

Then I saw Mikhail start to fiddle with the handcuff lock.
No!
I made the mistake of looking down. The fire was throwing out just enough light that I could see the jagged rocks three stories below. Mikhail almost had the tiny key in the lock: I could see it scraping all around the dark hole. In another second he’d get it in—

Angelo’s head appeared over the edge of the roof. He’d thrown himself atop Mikhail’s chest, using his body weight to try to pin the big Russian in place. Like an avenging angel, silhouetted by the blazing roof behind him, his fists swung down in arcs and slammed into Mikhail’s face: right, then left, then right again. Mikhail grunted, his head whipping from side to side.

I willed him to drop the handcuff key...but he didn’t. His head lolled for a second and then he turned to the side and spat out a tooth. “Fuck you,” he yelled over the wind. And I saw the key finally slot into the hole. And twist. The cuff around Mikhail’s wrist loosened, the tiny
click
of the mechanism reverberating through my whole body.

Angelo launched himself forward, scrambling along Mikhail’s body.

“No!”
I yelled. “
Don’t!”
I could feel Mikhail resume his slide off the building as Angelo moved.
He’s going to get himself killed!

Angelo ignored me. He was face-to-face with Mikhail, now, his arm stretching down towards me….

Mikhail shook his wrist and the cuff popped open. I screamed as I fell into space.

Angelo made a final lunge, his fingers brushed my wrist...and then that big, warm hand I loved so much was holding mine in a death grip. But all three of us were now sliding off the roof: Mikhail’s big body was slipping on the ice and Angelo was still lying atop him, riding him over the edge with no way to stop their forward momentum.

“Let me go!” I screamed, desperately trying to open my fingers. “
You have to let me go!”

Angelo shook his head, his jaw set like iron. “No fucking way.”

I looked up into those brown and amber eyes and tightened my fingers around his, my heart swelling. But Mikhail and Angelo’s slide continued, a slow-motion car crash none of us could stop. More and more of them passed over the edge: torsos, then hips, then legs...I screamed again as their feet slipped over and all three of us plunged.

Then we jerked to a stop. My shoulder, which had had a second or so of sweet relief, wrenched again as it took my weight. I looked up in bewilderment.

A big, broad shouldered beast of a man was leaning over the ledge, grasping Angelo’s ankles. He lifted his head and I gasped as I saw his face.
Luka! Luka is here too?
My brain couldn’t even process him and Angelo being there together. But maybe, just maybe, there was hope now. If he could pull us up—

A hand grabbed my left ankle and my shoulder exploded with white-hot pain as I was jerked down hard, my body stretched between Angelo’s hand and whatever was below me. I looked down….

Mikhail. All three of us had slid off the roof together, but Angelo had been stopped by Luka and I was attached to Angelo. Mikhail had fallen right on past us and would have plunged to his death...except he’d caught my ankle on the way down. He started to swing and twist and my shoulder hurt so much I thought I was going to pass out.

“
Fuck!
” I heard Angelo say above me.

I tried to kick Mikhail but each time I moved, the agony it caused in my shoulder made me stop instantly. All I could do was hang there and weep and pray for it to be over. Angelo was grunting with the strain of supporting both of us: I could see every muscle in his back standing out, his biceps hard as rock. Higher up, Luka was starting to lose his grip on Angelo’s ankles: even he couldn’t support three people for long.

Then another figure joined Luka at the ledge. As big as him, but the light from the fire gleamed off silver strands amongst the black.
Vasiliy!
Between them, they took the weight of Angelo, me and Mikhail. Now it was a question of which would give out first: Angelo’s grip or my arm. Either way, Mikhail was going to take me with him.

Angelo drew his gun and tried to aim at Mikhail, but my body blocked most of his view. He cursed. And I was running out of time. The pain was so intense that my vision was starting to narrow, my view of Angelo seeming to recede. I was slipping away from everything: his warmth, his light, his love...down into the cold, dark numbness I’d known before him.

I closed my eyes. Somewhere, distantly, I could feel my fingers loosening. I’d let go of him and then I’d be alone. I’d always been alone.

“No!”
yelled Angelo. “
You hang on!
”

“Fuck you, Vasiliy,” yelled Mikhail victoriously. “You should have just let me fuck her and join the family!”

For some reason, that bit deep. Everything that he’d planned to do to me, the years of hell he’d been willing to put me through, all to join us...and yet he still had no idea, no idea at all….

I loved Angelo. I was
his.
I would always be his.

But I was something else, as well.

I opened my eyes and looked down at Mikhail. “Fuck
you,”
I grunted through the pain. “You don’t have what it takes to be a Malakov.”

And I looked up at Angelo, stretched out my free arm and motioned for the gun. He stared down at me in shock and then dropped it into my hand. I swung my arm down and pointed the gun right at Mikhail’s head.

His eyes went wide in shock and outrage. His mouth opened, but I didn’t give him time to insult me again. I squeezed the trigger, the hand on my ankle released and he disappeared down into the darkness.

“But I do,” I panted.

With Mikhail’s weight gone, Angelo was able to lift me higher, high enough that he could grab my other arm and finally take some of the load off of my injured shoulder. Even that change made it flare with pain again and I suddenly started to cry, hot tears of agony flooding down my face. Luka and Vasiliy pulled us higher and higher and then Angelo and I were being dragged up onto the walkway and, for the first time in what felt like hours, my arm wasn’t being stretched at all. I went woozy with how good it felt, even though the slightest movement made the pain start all over again.

There was a crash as another part of the roof gave way. Even the stone walkway we were on was starting to crumble and tilt. The mansion was little more than the walls, now, the whole interior having mostly collapsed. We could jump forward into the fire, follow Mikhail down onto the rocks or wait until the entire place fell.

But when you’re a Malakov, there’s always a way.

Vasiliy reached into his jacket, withdrew a wad of banknotes thick enough to buy a high-end Mercedes, and waved it slowly back and forth above his head. A searchlight came on, picking him out in the darkness: Mikhail’s helicopter, which had been circling as we fought. It came closer and the side door slid open. I saw the pilot and crewman look at each other and shrug, then wave us forward. Russian mercenaries: not terribly loyal but outstandingly practical.

Luka got in first, then Angelo lifted me and passed me to him, so that I didn’t have to use my injured arm to haul myself in. That left Vasiliy and Angelo on the ledge. I saw Vasiliy’s eyes flick from the helicopter to Angelo to the edge of the roof. Killing his rival would take only a quick shove…. I grabbed Luka’s hand, my heart suddenly in my mouth.

Angelo stared back at Vasiliy...and lifted his chin, unafraid. He glanced at me, then back at Vasiliy.
You can do it,
his expression said,
but I’m not going to stop loving her.

Vasiliy let out a long sigh and looked down into the darkness where Mikhail’s body lay. “Perhaps I have enough enemies,” he said wearily. And he waved Angelo into the helicopter before climbing in himself.