Page 82 of Smoke and Shadows
“Iz, let go!” Viktor ordered. She was locked in the grips of survival, not realizing rescue was imminent. Her eyes snapped to his and filled with confusion at first and then relief. He hauled the other guy off and slugged him across the face.
“Tie up that motherfucker,” Viktor told Manning.
He was shaking with the need to beat the shit out of both men until there was nothing left of them to bury, but Marissa needed him.
“Viktor—” Marissa’s voice shattered him. He wanted to roar with anger at what was done to her, but at the same time shout in relief because she was safe in his arms.
“I’ve got you, kitten,” Viktor whispered. He eased her bindings off the hook and lowered her to the ground. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her.
“Owen Reed,” Marissa managed to say. She gulped. “He got away.”
“Stark’s on him.”
“I’m sorry, I blew it.” Her head bowed in defeat and shame.
Viktor struggled not to shake her to her senses, to yell at her that he didn’t care that Reed got away and that what was important to him was that she was safe.
“What happened is not your fault,” he said in a controlled voice. He took a long drawn-in breath. There was a violence in him that wanted to break free. His woman. Nearly raped.
“I’m glad you came for me,” Marissa whispered. Her voice had a slight tremor, and her body shuddered as the adrenaline withdrew from her system. He held her for a moment, clenching her to him tightly as if he wouldn’t ever let her go.
His phone buzzed. Viktor led her to sit on a table, and then walked over to pick up her jeans as he answered his phone.
“I lost them!” Nathan rasped into the phone. “They shot out my tire.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Did you—”
“Ms. Cole is fine. We’ll find Reed.”
“I see the Explorer,” Nathan replied. Viktor had sent Olsen’s team after Stark.
He cut a glance to the two men being secured by Edmunds and Manning; bloodlust was pulsing furiously within him.
Marissa refusedto be taken back to her motel. She sat in the Ford Explorer with Agent Olsen, listening to the blood-chilling screams of men begging for their life. Viktor and Edmunds were still inside the outhouse interrogating Fletcher andTyrell. Nathan was pacing outside. The rest of the Guardians were keeping an eye around the perimeter.
The four Rottweilers had been tranquilized. Marissa was relieved that none of them had to be put down.
Another nerve-wracking wail rent the air, and Marissa couldn’t take it anymore. She slammed out of the car and determinedly made her way to the outhouse.
Manning intercepted her. “You don’t wanna go in there.”
“He can’t do this,” Marissa whispered urgently.
The big man remained adamant. “Viktor has his own brand of justice.”
Twin serrated screams rose to deafening octaves until one faded to nothing and then the other was silenced as well.
Everyone stood frozen outside as footsteps approached the door. Viktor emerged. His knuckles were swollen and he was wiping the blood off an Arc Angel Butterfly knife. Stony-faced and expressionless, he wore the mask of judge, jury, and executioner. Marissa shivered and tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry, she thought she would choke. There were rivers of blood behind the door that swung open and shut.
“We can’t leave them like this,” Marissa said. “Sheila can’t come home to this.”
“Sheila?” Manning asked.
“Fletcher's girlfriend.”
Viktor cursed. “Manning, get the cleaners over here, ASAP.” He walked over to the back of the SUV, took out a medical kit, and doused his hand with hydrogen peroxide.