The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(20)
She was reeling when a solid weight tackled her onto the ground, followed by a punch that rattled her teeth. She rolled away, coiled her legs, and unleashed the bottom of her right foot into the man’s solar plexus. He collapsed, a loud wheezing sound escaping his throat. She scrambled to stand, the rough cobblestones scraping the bottom of her feet.
Movement registered in her peripheral vision. Rif fighting his assailants. Grunts, blood, the sound of a crowbar meeting flesh.
A metallic taste flooded her mouth. Before she could recover, the second attacker came for her again. The chain swung around. She tried to scramble out of the way, but the heavy links crashed into her shoulder, slamming her to the ground again. Her head collided with the cobblestones, leaving her in a haze. She tried to shake it off. The man stood over her, chain in hand.
She blinked, trying to clear her double vision. Her sensei’s advice again flashed in her mind. Chained weapons have a downside, leaving their users unbalanced. She protected her head with her arms as the metal links crashed into her.
After absorbing the blow, she grabbed the chain with both hands and used a quick shift of her body weight to pull him off balance. The attacker stumbled forward. A beefy, barrel-chested man, he could easily overpower her in close quarters.
She needed the knife. On all fours she scrambled for the weapon, but his meaty fingers grabbed her left leg and pulled her toward him before she could reach it.
He flipped her onto her back and straddled her torso, forcing the air out of her lungs. His hands closed around her throat, tightened. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision swam.
No, she had to fight. For Papa, Aegis, Nikos.
Her hand felt along the ground and found one of her shoes. She tightened her grip on the stiletto and swung hard, driving the heel into her attacker’s neck. He grunted, mouth slackening. His fingers loosened around her throat and went to his own. He slumped on top of her. Dark blood spurted onto the cobblestones.
Seconds later, Rif ripped the massive man off her. She gasped for air. Sirens sounded in the distance. Three of the attackers limped into the darkness. The man with the stiletto lodged in his neck lay still.
“You okay?” Rif helped her to a sitting position.
She nodded. “I had it covered.”
“Killer heels.” Rif removed the man’s ski mask, revealing his bullish nose and olive skin, and snapped a few photos with his cell.
The wailing of the sirens intensified.
“Let’s get out of here.” He yanked the stiletto from the man’s neck. Blood had soaked through the delicate fabric.
“Ugh. It’s not like I’m going to wear them again.”
“Yep, but we don’t want the local cops to come looking for Cinderella.” His sharp features were marred by streaks of blood.
He helped her stand. Her head throbbed from its pounding against the cobblestones, so she leaned against him as they hurried down the street.
The squeal of nearby tires startled them. Hakan pulled up in his rented Renault and thrust open the door. His dark eyes widened at the sight of her and Rif. “I heard about a disturbance on the police scanner and knew you were headed in this direction to meet Kennedy. What the hell happened?”
She’d never been so relieved to see her boss. Sliding into the backseat beside Rif, she slammed the door, and Hakan tore away.
“Looks like Christos isn’t the only one the kidnappers are after.” Rif wiped blood off his forehead.
“Should I take you both to a clinic? You don’t look so good.” Hakan’s eyebrows knitted together.
“The hotel, please.” She sucked in a breath.
“I’ll get one of the local docs to come to your room.” Hakan weaved around the corners at warp speed.
“We can’t waste time being questioned by the police. First thing tomorrow, I’ll head for Athens, where we can set up a temporary base of operations.” Her stomach lurched. The message. She searched for Papa’s cell with its flashing red light, indicating a text.
Her hand trembled as she read out loud: “Corruptio optimi pessima. The corruption of the best is the worst.”
“Another riddle—and no fucking ransom demand.” Rif’s voice was tight, clipped.
Hakan swerved into the parking area in front of the hotel, barely missing a stationary taxi. In kidnappings, the hostage takers were in charge, and they knew it. The family was at their mercy. That was why it was so important to understand whom you were dealing with, deciphering what they wanted—but it was challenging when they refused to be identified. “By the way, Nikos is at the party.”
Thea struggled to swallow, not sure if her difficulty was due to the aftermath of being choked or the thought of the turmoil in her family.
Rif squeezed her hand. She pressed back, her way of saying thanks. If she’d been alone tonight, it would have gone very differently.
Chapter Twelve
Ares slipped through the rear gate of the Sphinx restaurant and climbed the stairs two at a time. The din of music, laughter, and clinking champagne glasses filled the night air. He had an invitation to the party via his other persona, but that didn’t mean he was welcome. Not that that had ever stopped him before. He reached into his pocket and felt the reassuring presence of the music box. Almost time.
He paused in the shadows and surveyed the crowd he’d been around most of his life. Socialites flirted with Arabian princes, a female rock star gyrated against a business mogul, models with hungry stares waved away waiters carrying trays of food. Spotlights glittered off rock-size jewels, creating a strobelike effect. He inhaled, breathing in a mixture of expensive perfumes and colognes. Quite a party. But tonight he had no desire to play social games.