Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(39)
“Stop fighting him or I’ll fill your belly with lead,” she warned, amazed her voice sounded so incredibly steady when her insides were jiggling around like a Jell-O mold…
Chapter Nine
“You heard the lady,” Dan hissed through gritted teeth as he yanked the pay phone’s cord tighter. “Stop f*cking fighting and you might just live.”
Kozlov must have realized he was overpowered and outgunned. And proving he was smarter than he looked, he went slack in Dan’s arms. Without taking the pressure off the improvised garrote, Dan reached inside Kozlov’s coat and carefully removed the T/C Contender from the Russian’s shoulder holster.
Once the weapon was secure, he unwound the pay phone cord, slammed the receiver back onto the hook, and shoved away from Kozlov before the big Russian could gather his wits and make any sort of counter move. Placing himself at a ninety-degree angle from Penni, Dan joined her in drawing down on the motherf*cker, enjoying the Contender’s solid weight at the end of his arm. He knew if he fired, the roar of the handgun would be loud enough to shake the ground. And the thought of its lethality almost gave him a government operator stiffy.
Or maybe that’s just the adrenaline…
Blowing hard and wiping the blood from his eye with his free hand, he spared Penni a quick glance. He wanted to go to her and take her in his arms, to assure himself that she was safe and whole and unharmed. But he didn’t dare allow Kozlov an opening. And besides, the expression on her face when she shot him a look said it all. Coolheaded and clear-eyed, Penni had everything under control.
Balls to shame an elephant…
If he ever again found himself trying to take down a trained Russian spy, he could do a lot worse than having former Secret Service Agent Penni DePaul by his side. But he probably couldn’t do much better.
Swiping more blood from his forehead and flinging it onto the cobblestones—head wounds always gushed like a damned geyser; it was annoying—he saw Zoelner race around the corner and skid to a stop. Once Zoelner verified with his eyes what he’d been hearing through his earpiece, that they had everything under control, he planted his hands on his knees, let his head hang between his shoulders, and started panting.
“Nice of you to show up,” Dan said drolly. Despite the brutality of the fight—he was going to have bruises galore up and down his left side thanks to Kozlov’s thunderous right hook—it had lasted no more than a few dozen seconds. No doubt Zoelner had been busting ass in their direction every single one of them.
“Shit,” Zoelner wheezed. “Holy shit.”
One would think the guy didn’t have an ounce of energy left in him. But that was proved dead wrong when Chelsea started around the opposite corner. Her toe had barely cleared the lip of the curb before Zoelner did a one-eighty so fast he was nothing but a blur. When he stopped, his Beretta 92 was aimed right between Chelsea’s wide eyes.
Her squeal of surprise damn near deafened Dan. And his peripheral vision told him Penni winced. The weapons she had trained on Kozlov didn’t move an inch, however, remaining locked, loaded, and rock-f*cking-steady.
Alice Cooper once said that “the minute you step on stage, you get eight feet taller.” Well, this must be Penni’s stage. Because she was proving to be a veritable Amazon.
A warm glow of admiration filled him and pushed out against the chill of the night. He couldn’t wait to finish this goddamned mission and get her alone for two, maybe three days, and show her just how much he admired her.
Zoelner obviously wasn’t having any similar feelings toward Chelsea. “Damnit!” he hissed at her. “You don’t sneak up on a guy like that! I almost dropped the hammer on your ass!”
“Please,” Chelsea scoffed, straightening her collar and recovering quickly. “This was not made”—with a Vanna White–style flourish of her hand, she indicated her rather curvaceous physique—“to sneak.” As if to prove her point, she pressed her palm against her side and winced like she had a stitch. “But since the gang’s all here, let’s not waste any time.” She took a second more to catch her breath, using the brief lull to quickly catalog Kozlov’s features. Then she said, “It sure is fancy meeting you here, Andrei.”
Huh, Dan thought, frowning. So I guess we’re just gonna throw all our cards on the table.
Kozlov was down on one knee in the street, rubbing his abused throat. But he went completely still at the sound of his name. “You know who I am,” he snarled.
Now, Dan was no expert when it came to male beauty, but he knew enough to lay down pretty steep odds that Kozlov wouldn’t win any awards for looks, even on his best day. Given the Russian’s right eye was already swelling, as were his lips, Dan would go so far as to say that if you looked up the term “fugly” on Urban Dictionary, you’d see a photo of the Russian FSB officer.
“We do know who you are.” Chelsea advanced another step, careful not to obscure Penni’s aim. “We know you are Russian Federal Security Service. We know you checked into your hotel under the alias Peter Sayankin even though your real name is Andrei Kozlov. We know you came to Cusco via Buenos Aires.” That last bit she must’ve discovered while she and Ozzie were chatting over their air gap network. “And we know you’re hoping to meet up with Winterfield in about”—she checked her watch—“forty-five minutes.”