Retaliation: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (14 page)

“No... no, that's fine,” Carson says, slightly shook up but recovering quickly. I look back and see him pulling his shirt on, and I hold my hand up. He nods, and I leave the bedroom, going into the hall with Katrina. Nathan gives me a single respectful nod as he passes us, going into Melissa's bedroom, and I'm left in the hallway alone with her.

“You didn't have to be so understanding,” I say softly, and Katrina smiles.

“Of course I did. You're family, and I love you.” Katrina gives me a hug, and I hug her back. “Now go get some sleep. Even if that was overdue, I need you both to be well rested for tomorrow. You two engage in any more shenanigans, and I'm going to show you both some things that'll shut down your libidos for the next two weeks, got it?”

I chuckle and hug Katrina again, nodding. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Don't make a habit of that, you could make your
Sir
jealous,” Katrina says, then whispers in my ear. “Jackson didn't hear that part, that's between you and me, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Katrina. I love you, Baby Girl.”

“That's better. I love you too, Andi. Have a good night.”

* * *

I
wake
up to the most amazing feeling, Carson holding me in his arms from behind. When I told him Katrina's request, he agreed, but still it feels amazing to have this man holding me safe and secure in his arms, the alarm softly chiming that it's five thirty.

“Mmm, good morning,” Carson says, nuzzling my neck and kissing me right behind the ear. “Did you sleep okay?”

“That was the best three hours of sleep I've had in years,” I tell him, kissing the knuckles on his right hand. “Seriously, you're like a security blanket.”

“Hmm, glad to know,” Carson chuckles, squeezing me tightly.

“Before we get up, can you say it one more time please?”

“Say what?” Carson teases, chuckling.

“You know…”

Carson laughs softly and kisses behind my ear again. “How about this. I don't know what the future will bring, but will always be my dove. And I’ll be happy to be your
Sir
.”

I shiver and push back, feeling his cock hard against my ass, and I moan softly. Carson strokes my breast through my shirt, and I'm tempted, but we both know we don't have the time. “Tonight maybe?”

“Tonight,” Carson promises. “In fact, maybe we need to...”

Carson's words are cut off as Maverick's booming barks cut through the morning, both of us sitting up, galvanized. Jumping off the bed, we jam our feet into our shoes, and for the first time I'm glad Nathan insisted on us sleeping in our socks, something we kept on even as we made love last night.

Carson grabs his pistol off the dresser, and hands me mine. “Come on, let's move.”

W
e come
out of the house fast, Jackson already outside, pistol in hand, scanning the dooryard. “I heard him out in this direction,” Jackson says, his eyes flinty as he points toward the back area with the target range. “But he's stopped.”

“Follow me,” Nathan says, concerned. “Keep frosty, two groups. Carson, you are with me. Katrina, you take Jackson and Andrea, stay here and protect the house.”

I nod, sweeping with my pistol as Nathan leads us off the porch. I glance up to the second floor and see Melissa, a pistol in her hand, looking down on us with concern. She's still strong though, and she's ready to do what she can to protect BA if she has to. Andrea gives me a worried glance, but goes inside with Katrina and Jackson, locking the door behind her.

It's foggy this morning, foggier than normal at least, and we can barely see half of the dooryard as we go straight through. “Carson.”

“Yeah?”

“We stay together. We cover less ground that way, but it is safer. If you see anything, tell me. Orloff is a total sociopath, but the fact he prefers blades to guns gives us a slight advantage. Expect him to still be carrying though.”

I nod, and we head toward the direction Jackson pointed. Nathan's eyes sweep side to side and we move in a quick, but not rushed walk. Nathan is on my left, and we both have our pistols up.

“Why'd you tell the others to stay behind?” I ask quietly as we move.

“Because it may be a diversion.”

“Gotcha. And why the two of us?”

“I’m the best fighter, and you know the terrain best,” Nathan replies succinctly, then holds up his hand, signaling us to stop. I do, and he points, whispering. “Up ahead.”

I look where he points, seeing a large shape in the mist, underneath an oak tree that separates the dooryard from the beginnings of the fields that lead to the back. It's big, whatever it is, and I raise my pistol back up, flicking off my safety. “I'll lead. I get jumped... take care of Melissa.”

Nathan nods and I move toward the shape, details becoming clear as I get closer. “Oh no...”

Nathan, who's taken up a kneeling position covering me, calls out. “What is it?”

“Maverick,” I reply, walking closer. I reach the body, and I can barely contain my horror. The big, lovable dog, who never did anything worse than worm his gigantic, sleek head under your arm to look for more affection, lays dead.

The body's still fresh, with warmth and steam rising from him. Nathan comes closer, and I can hear a tremor in his voice as he looks. “I’m so sorry, buddy,” he says, his voice quavering as he strokes the dog's big head. He looks over at me, and I see a tear trickling down his cheek.

“Come on, we need to secure the grounds. We’ll bury him after.”

“Okay.” We start to head back, Nathan's pistol up and ready. He's moving slower now, carefully, not letting anything escape his attention. I know part of it is that he's in pain, and he's angry. Unlike most people though, this causes him not to rush and make mistakes but to slow down, to try and go more carefully, making no mistakes at all.

We circle to our right, by the barn, when suddenly from the morning shadows something flies out of nowhere, splashing me. I'm temporarily blinded and jump back, wiping at my eyes. It stings, whatever the hell it is, and then the smell hits my nostrils. It's the rich coppery-sick smell of blood. I'm soaked, and I blink, wiping again to try and see.

What I see is Vadim Orloff, but this time instead of an ice cream white suit, he's dressed in speckled camouflage, dark blue and green. Nathan's got his gun already moving, firing, but the guy is fast, and I understand what Katrina meant by his freaky speed. He rolls underneath Nathan's shot and swings his hand, the knife that suddenly appears in his hand easily slashing Nathan's leg on the side.

Nathan tries to turn, but he seems to not be able to put any weight on the leg, and he goes to a knee. Orloff chuckles and gets to his feet, cocking his hand back to throw, but as his hand moves, Nathan falls to the side, the knife barely missing his head as he fires.

Nathan's 1911 explodes again in the dawn silence, and Orloff staggers back, holding his left shoulder. I bring my gun up, but before I can fire, Orloff laughs and looks at the wound which is just a scratch on the outside of his arm. I'm not sure, but I think he might even be bleeding less than Nathan, who's trying to crawl in the dirt but not making much progress. “Nice try, Green Beret,” he says, his accent stronger now, and I see Nathan collapse, his eyes wide. “The poison paralyzes quickly, but kills slow. You have earned my respect though, Nathan Black. Very few men would be able to have done anything at all. Congratulations.”

“Hey asshole,” I hiss, squeezing the trigger on my Smith. Orloff turns to me, his face amused as my pistol goes click, nothing happening. I squeeze again, confused. What the fuck?

“Smith and Wessons... pieces of Yankee shit trash,” Orloff says, laughing quietly. “If you're going to take on me, boy, you should bring a gun that can fire when wet. Even better, learn how to actually fight, and not rely on weak pussy weapons.”

I drop my Smith on the ground, advancing. Maybe there's a chance that I can get to Nathan's gun before Orloff can stop me. And maybe the Saints might win the Stanley Cup, even if they're a football team. Fuck it. I'm dead either way.

“I wouldn't if I were you, Yankee,” Orloff says, another knife in his hand. I take a step toward Nathan and the knife buries itself in the ground at my feet, and I look at Orloff, who already has another knife in his hand. “One more step, the next one is in your heart.”

“You're going to kill me anyway, so why the fuck should I stop?” I ask, turning to face him. “You don't care if I live or die.”

He nods, then shrugs, still grinning. “No, but I am bored. I had hoped that Nathan would be more of a challenge than he was. Tell you what, Yankee. You step away from Nathan Black, I put the knife away. If you can beat me, you win. I'll even let you go for your Smith. Inferior weapon for an inferior man.”

I dive, going for my pistol, but Orloff's on my heels, kicking it away before I can even get a finger on it. I roll, trying to get to my feet, but he kicks the back of my knee, sending me sprawling onto my back, and I'm left looking up at him as he backs away, still grinning that madman's smile. “Come on, Yankee. Even a pussy art dealer must be a better fighter than that. I know Russian women who could kick your ass.”

“And I know American women who would eat you for breakfast,” I reply, kicking out with my left leg, hoping to catch him in the balls. I'm off, but I at least hit his thigh and he backs up a step, grinning. “Come on, motherfucker.”

“Actually no, I didn't fuck my mother. I have, however, fucked yours,” Orloff taunts as I get to my feet. “Come on, Yankee. Your friends will not have ignored those shots for long. Finish this soon, or else.”

I charge, and he steps to the side, tripping me as I go by, sending me sprawling to my stomach. Before I can recover, Orloff stomps in between my shoulder blades, pinning me to the ground. “Stupid American. You and your fucking guns. You're not even worth killing.
Do svidaniya.”

He rears back with his knife hand, but suddenly Nathan tries to tackle him. I don't know how, I don't think Orloff knows either, but Nathan clings to him with a bulldog's tenacity, until Orloff punches him viciously in the eye, sending him tumbling to the ground. “Nathan!”

I'm on my knees, but my back still is so pained I can barely move, and Orloff doesn't have time anymore. His foot comes around, I can see his boot coming toward my eyes, and then everything goes black.

T
he two pistol
shots shatter the quiet of the morning, sending a shock through all of us. I've checked on Melissa, she's upstairs with BA, and she's doing well. Carson was right. Melissa only needs someone else to need her, and she's able to find the strength, at least temporarily.

I'm coming down the stairs when the first shot goes off, and I run down the rest of the way, looking for Jackson and Katrina. “What happened?”

“Single shot, sounds like Nathan's pistol,” Katrina says, her Glock up and pointed toward the windows of the kitchen. Another shot comes, and her eyes flick toward the back, judging our next move. “Cover the front.”

“Shouldn't we go out there and help them?” I ask, and Katrina shakes her head.

“Either they've taken care of it, or they were already taken out,” Katrina says, her eyes cold and hard. “I'm sorry Andi, but Nathan would want us here. Carson, too.”

I nod, swallowing the fear and hurt in my chest and go to the living room, holding my pistol up. Jackson follows me, his own pistol ready. “She's not trying to be cruel.”

“I know,” I respond, setting aside my emotions for a moment. There's no time for them, that'll come later. “I'll cover the stairs.”

Jackson nods and I stay by the main staircase, trying my best not to be scared shitless. Tension seeps through the air as the minutes crawl by, nothing but the sounds of the morning cicadas starting to creep in through the windows.

I'm sweating, I know from a mix of fear and nervousness, and my hand is shaking so hard I can't stand it. “Jackson... talk to me.”

“What about?” he asks quietly, his eyes still scanning the windows, looking toward the street.

“Did you and Katrina ever build that Corvette model?” I ask, thinking about anything to get my mind off of the situation at hand. “You know, that '67?”

“We got the main painting and gluing done, so now we're working on decaling and then finishing it up,” he says, a smile in his voice. “We're taking our time.”

“What's next?” I ask. “Another car?”

“Actually, we were thinking RC,” Jackson says, chuckling. “Something that we can play around with once BA starts walking.”

“You're going to put a tail on it and make her chase it, aren't you?” I ask, laughing. “That would so be you.”

“Nah, not unless she wants to,” Jackson replies. “Actually, Katrina was joking that she's going to get something strong enough that I'll have to work hard chasing it. I'm faster at running than she...”

An explosion rocks the house from the back, and smoke starts to billow out of the kitchen area. “Katrina!”

Jackson runs toward the kitchen, while Melissa appears at the top of the stairs, BA in her arms. The baby is screaming, panicked by the loud noise, and I hold up my hand. “Stay there! Protect her!”

Melissa nods, her face a pasty eggshell white, but she backs up again, and I run toward the kitchen. Before I can even get halfway there Jackson and Katrina are backing down the hallway, Katrina firing her pistol quickly but calmly. “Living room!”

I back up, trying to raise my pistol as purplish black smoke fills the hallway. I can see something, but I don't know what to make of anything as the three of us back up. I get to the base of the stairs and retreat up two steps, my pistol ready, while Jackson and Katrina arrange themselves side by side.

Vadim Orloff bursts from the smoke like a demon from the depths of hell, his kick catching Jackson in the shoulder and sending my brother flying. He's got something in his right hand, but Katrina kicks, catching him in the wrist and sending what I now see is a straight razor flying out of his hand where it clatters on the floor. “Ah, the woman. I've been warned about you,” Orloff says, smiling still.

Katrina lashes out with another kick. Orloff blocks it, but Katrina follows with a pointed finger attack that catches him in his right arm, and he grunts, backing up and shaking out the arm.

“You do have skill. Not too many people know about those.”

Jackson's recovered, while I'm trying desperately to get a clear shot, but I don't have anything. Every time I think Orloff is clear, Katrina's moving in between us, and I realize that she's keeping herself between Orloff and the staircase, protecting her daughter and me.

“She's not the only one you have to worry about, asshole,” Jackson says, darting inside with an elbow strike. Orloff blocks, but it gives Katrina an opening, the two of them working together. She comes underneath, but Orloff spins away, and suddenly he's between them and me, his eyes darting between all of us.

“Andi, down!” Jackson yells, and he fires. Orloff's fast though, and the bullet just seems to graze his ribs as he rotates, his foot crashing into Jackson's side and I can hear ribs break as Jackson is sent hurtling backward. Katrina attacks, but he spins again, groaning as Katrina's gun hand catches him in his wounded side, but he goes with it, his fist flying out and catching her in the back of her left shoulder, sending her crashing to the floor.

“No!” I scream, leaping from the staircase onto his back. Orloff staggers, I don't think he expected me to do anything, but he recovers quickly, throwing me off his back and to the floor. In a whirl of hands he's disarmed me, and has my pistol pointed against my head, and he's backing toward the front door.

“That's enough,” he says in his pained, accented English as Katrina gets to her feet, her pistol raised. I see Melissa start to come down the stairs, but Orloff is using me as a meat shield, holding me in between them. “One more step, and you pick her brains up off the floor with the kitchen mop.”

We bump into the door and Orloff jams the pistol into my temple harder. “Reach back, open the door,” he says, turning me slightly. “Don't piss me off. Your father might want you alive, but he's willing to accept your corpse if he has to.”

“We will find you, and we will kill you,” Katrina growls, and Orloff laughs.

“Perhaps. But considering that I've disabled three of you, killed another, and am leaving with one? I like my odds,” he says as I get the door open.

“Katrina?” I ask, and Orloff's arm tightens around my neck, cutting off my air as he drags me back.

“We'll find you, Andrea. You fight, understand?”

Orloff drags me backward down the steps, his arm loosening just enough to let me take a single, fiery sweet breath of air. He keeps backing up, until we're at the street, and I see a black car parked in the shadows. Katrina's emerging, her left arm hanging limp at her side, but her right arm still holding her pistol on Orloff as we round the curve in the road. His arm tightens, cutting off all air. Darkness starts to creep in, and I try to fight it, but it's impossible. As everything goes dark, I only hope that Katrina is right, that they can find me.