Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(59)

She blinks back tears and refuses to look at me, eyes on The Monster.

“Sweetheart.” Jake mocks. His attention goes back to her. “How sweet. Maybe all of us should – ”

“Get out of here, Jake!” she shouts.

“We have unfinished business.” He takes a step towards her, and she grips the weapon with both hands.

“No, we –”

“Whoa, whoa,” I say. The two are growing more agitated, less likely to react out of reason. “I’m not leaving, Claudia. Jake, I think we need to have a little talk.”

“Go, Petr!” Her eyes are glazed. “Please!”

“Do it, bitch. Kill us all!” The Monster dares her.

“I will kill you, Jake. I’ll –”

Neither is listening, and I rack my mind for something to jar Claudia out of her emotional state so she responds to my commands rather than Jake’s psychological hold over her.

“I came here to propose, but it looks like I’m a little late to the party,” I say loudly.

The effect is instant. Claudia faces me and lowers her arm, mouth agape, while even The Monster appears taken aback. I use their surprise to my advantage and cross to her quickly, taking her arm. Her eyes are pinned to mine, and I hold her gaze.

“Trust me,” I whisper.

She hesitates but doesn’t resist when I pry the weapon loose from her hands. I ache to touch her but resist instead nudging her behind me while I face The Monster.

The weapon is loaded. I release the magazine and toss it then pop the bullet out of the chamber. Throwing the bullet and pocketing the weapon, I face The Monster and stare him down.

“Gun’s down. Now your lighter,” I order him. There’s furniture between us, or this fight would be over already. My prosthetic leg is incredible – but where it lags is agile maneuverability.

“Not a chance.”

“Claudia, go,” I say over my shoulder.

“Petr-” she objects.

“Don’t even think about it, Claud,” The Monster snaps and raises the lighter.

“Go. Now,” I tell her softly. “He’s a coward. He won’t do anything. Take my phone and call the police.” I toss it to her. In a town this size, it’ll take less than three minutes for the police to arrive.

“Claudia, I swear to god, if you don’t –”

She shifts towards the door, hesitates and then pauses in the doorway, meeting my gaze briefly before disappearing into the hallway.

“Claudia!” The Monster’s face blazes red. He starts to the door.

I slide between him and the exit, assessing our positions once more. There’s still furniture between us. My prosthetic leg has been tested through an obstacle course and various sports, but I hesitate to tackle a solid armchair. If I mess up, I put her in danger. My best position is to stay between him and the door, and to wait for my chance.

“Let’s see how brave you are,” The Monster says and draws a knife. He keeps the lighter in his hand. “You move, or we both go down in flames.”

I laugh. “Been there. Done that. Didn’t enjoy the trip, but I survived.” I lean down to pat my leg with the weapon. The sound of metal on metal is unmistakable. “The question isn’t whether or not I’m ready for a return trip. It’s whether or not you can hang.”

The Monster eyes my leg.

I’ve met men like this before, those who prey on the weak because they can. Narcissistic sociopaths. The military draws that kind every once in a while. They’re brilliant killers when they have the upper hand but cowards to their cores. They’re the kind of men who run when ambushed, unlike the men on my team. Men like Sawyer, whose first mission as a commander lost four of the bravest men I’ve ever known. Men like Orion, whose minds broke when he tried to confront his demons.

Men like Mikael who plunged into the flames to save me.

The Monster is nothing like the kind of men I know, love and respect.

“There’s only one way this can end,” I tell him almost gently. “And you don’t win. I know the feds have a warrant out for your arrest. Surrender peacefully, and you leave here on your feet, alive and well. Make a run for it, and I’ll do whatever I have to in order to stop you.”

I hear the sounds of sirens. It’s hard to know the direction or proximity through the walls of the building. The Monster pauses, listening as well.

“You’re just trying to stall me,” he mutters. Dropping the lighter in his pocket, he pulls out a second knife.

“Maybe.”

“I won’t go to jail. I have a better idea. I take out you and your tin leg and then go after Claudia and her brother.”

“You can try,” I reply with a faint smile, my resolve solidifying as I realize he won’t go quietly. I toss the weapon. “You can have the first punch.”

He steps around the armchair at last, and I lower my stance.

The moment he’s close enough to swing, it’s over, knives or not. The Monster slashes at me. I knock his arm away, spin him and punch him hard in the side of the head. A blow like that scrambles a man’s brain, but he reacts anyway and lashes out once more.

In all of three moves, he’s disarmed, staggering and clutching a bloodied nose. Subduing him will be easy. He gets in one blow, a punch that glances my cheek. He fights with emotion and fury, while I was trained to go to battle and rely on my instincts and training to assess, disarm and go on the offensive with discipline rather than emotion.