A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(89)

Levi heard urgent voices deeper in the condo, along with multiple footsteps on the hardwood floors. Dominic leaned around the corner, then jerked back as a bullet sailed down the hallway. When he returned fire, the footsteps hurriedly withdrew, and the voices grew fainter.

Their team proceeded cautiously along the hallway in the same formation, Dominic covering their front as the rest cleared the bedrooms and bathrooms they passed. All were empty, and by the time they reached the end of the hall, Utopia had yet to engage them again. In fact, the condo was eerily quiet.

Straight ahead was the kitchen, a sideways U of gleaming marble counters and dark cabinetry around a central island. Around another corner to the right lay the condo’s main living and dining area-a large, wide-open space where the only cover would come from whatever furniture Hatfield’s mistress had put in.

Dominic snuck a brief look and shook his head. “Empty,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Whoever’s left must be in the master suite.”

“Or on the balconies,” said Levi. Because this was a corner unit, the condo had two, both of which were entered via the living room.

“Open space, minimal cover-we’ll have to split up and clear all three doors at once, or there’s too good a chance they’ll take us by surprise.”

Through a discussion based mostly on eye contact and hand signals, they did just that. Dominic and Leila headed for the balcony behind the dining table, Martine and Natasha to the door of the master suite at the midpoint along the opposite wall, and Levi and Rebel through the living room to the second balcony on the far side.

They were halfway to their targets when all three doors flew open and Utopia guards surged into the room with guns drawn.

Levi dropped to a crouch behind the sofa, narrowly avoiding a bullet to the chest. Rebel bolted from his side toward the two men who’d emerged from the balcony, her bloody teeth bared. One of the men froze; the other shrieked, darted back onto the balcony, and slammed the door shut, abandoning his comrade to Rebel’s attack.

Checking on the others, Levi saw that Dominic and Leila were handily dispatching their opponents, but Martine and Natasha were facing off against four men. Martine had shot one and was tussling with a second, using her shotgun as a club. Another advanced on Natasha and managed to knock her stun gun out of her hand before raising his gun.

“Hey!” Levi shouted, popping up from the sofa. “Recognize me?”

The man spun toward Levi, his eyes going wide before his face screwed up with hatred. Instead of taking aim as Levi expected, he charged at Levi like an enraged bull.

Too startled to dodge, Levi planted his foot in the man’s stomach just as the man tackled him. He let the momentum take them to the ground and continued backward, using his foot to shove the man up and over his head. Completing the somersault brought him to a sitting position on the man’s chest.

Unfortunately, the man was barely fazed, and Levi was not good at ground fighting. He blocked the man’s punch and had his own punch blocked in turn before he pushed himself off the man’s chest and onto his feet. Capitalizing on the seconds it took for the man to rise, Levi vaulted the couch and then the coffee table, heading for a paneled media center holding an enormous flatscreen TV.

The man scrambled after Levi and grabbed him from behind. Levi donkey-kicked the guy in the balls, then twisted out of his grip, punched him in the face, and swept his legs out from underneath him. When the man fell to the floor, Levi tipped the TV out of the media center. It landed on the man with a bright cascade of sparks.

Panting, Levi rested his hands on his thighs and looked around the room. Dominic and Leila’s last opponent had jumped onto Dominic’s back, trying to get an arm around his neck. Dominic rolled his shoulders like an irritated horse shrugging off a fly and flipped the man onto the dining table. A vase crashed to the floor, spilling water and red roses everywhere.

Rebel had joined Martine to take down the last remaining guard. Natasha had gotten out of their way, letting them do their thing, and was backing up toward the other balcony.

Wait. Wasn’t there a guy—

Levi had no chance to shout a warning before the guard who’d fled Rebel darted back inside. Natasha whirled toward the man, and he seized her by the throat with both hands.

For all her brutality, Natasha was of average strength for a woman her size, and she wasn’t trained in hand-to-hand combat. Yet instead of frantically clawing at the man’s hands and face like most people would while being strangled, she remained calm. She unzipped her jacket, plunged a hand inside, and withdrew a long, wicked knife.

No, Levi realized. Not a knife. The knife.

She stabbed the man in the guts.

He released her immediately, swaying on his feet and staring at the knife until she pulled it out. Then he fell to his knees and one hand, the other hand clutching the wound.

Natasha casually walked behind him, gripped his hair, and yanked his head back. With one clean stroke, she slit his throat from ear to ear.

Levi had watched her kill Carolyn Royce on camera, but he hadn’t been able to see her face then. And even when she’d killed people earlier today, she hadn’t looked like this.

Her face was tipped up toward the ceiling, her eyes half-lidded and her lips gently curved in an expression of utter bliss. She looked . . . reverent. Like this was a spiritual experience for her.

She released the man, who toppled face-first onto the floor in a pool of his own blood. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and met Levi’s gaze across the room.