Page 89 of Shephard
The harshness of the whip as it struck my chest sucked the breath out of me. I stumbled backwards. When my back hit the concrete block wall, all my senses were jarred. He’d come from the shadows, beating me at my own game of cat and mouse.
“Did you really think I would succumb that easily?” His Russian accent was heavily pronounced by his overindulgence in wine, whiskey, and cigars.
I glared at him, my eyes fully adjusted to the bare hint of moonlight inside the dark corridor. He’d already used the whip to snatch my assault rifle, tossing it aside as if a joke.
“What’s wrong, Boris? Aren’t you happy to see me?” I knew how much he loathed being challenged and reacted exactly like I knew he would. He reared back, ready to strike me again.
I was able to catch my breath, immediately reaching for my knife. As I tossed it, the pain from the harsh strike was enough to alter my aim. The knife went into his shoulder, easily cutting tendon but not enough to cut him down.
This time his reaction was swift and agonizing.
Strike after strike of the thin leather he wielded, sending me crashing to the hard cement floor as pain tore through me. Sweat was stinging my eyes, blood saturating my shirt. He’d attempted to break me.
That would never happen.
A single roar was one of few indications I wasn’t unconscious and I didn’t think about my actions, reaching for and grabbing the long strand of the whip before it struck again.
“A friend of yours?”
Fuck.
The goddamn images were appearing when I wasn’t asleep. I’d almost lost my life that day, barely limping away. By that point, the authorities had arrived, their shrill sirens echoing in the night. I’d barely escaped.
“Are you okay?”
Denise.
“He’s a real monster.” I hadn’t expected to hear her voice until morning. The soft lilt swept through me and I sucked in my breath briefly. I did my best not to make a single sound while blowing it out. “You’re supposed to be asleep.” I rubbed my face, my breathing still labored. I was sweating like a goddamn pig.
“I woke up in a strange bed. I don’t sleep well when I don’t know exactly where I am.”
She wasn’t moving any closer and I’d yet to turn around. It didn’t matter we were oil and water. We were drawn to each other in an inexplicable way. “You’re safe. That’s all you need to know.”
“Nowhere is totally safe, Shephard. You of all people should know that.”
“I guess you’re right. Try and get some rest at least.”
Why did her scent need to float into my nostrils? And why was the bulge between my legs extremely painful?
She remained quiet, but I sensed she was moving closer. “How many men did you kill in your previous life?” The woman not only had the nerve to sit on the edge of my desk, she also had found a tee shirt of mine from my things, now wearing that and nothing else. While oversized on her, the thin material couldn’thide her voluptuous body or the way her nipples were pressed against the front from the way she was sitting.
“Enough I won’t be going to heaven at the end of my life.”
“You can always be redeemed.”
“Not possible.”
She folded her arms. “Talk to me, Shephard. You know exactly what’s going on. Don’t you? This has something to do with your previous clandestine missions. Why come after you here and now? Why did this start before you arrived?”
When I said nothing, she twisted and picked up my laptop, shoving the screen in front of me. “This man is the killer. Yes? But he’s after you.”
“Yes. His name is Boris Ivanoff. I was handed the mission to stop the butcher. He was attempting to takeover a small country, torturing and killing all those loyal to the current president of the country.”
“He’s alive?”
“The powers that be decided it was best he land in a Russian prison, which is what happened.”
“Now, he wants revenge.”