Ruthless Creatures (Queens & Monsters, #1)(89)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

When I shout that at Viktor, Mojo lets out a bloodcurdling growl.

Viktor turns his head toward the sound. I take the opportunity to leap up from the table.

As soon as I move, Mojo lunges.

Catching sight of a hundred-pound ball of fur flying at him, Viktor fires a shot in Mojo’s direction. The sound is deafening. I scream, purely on instinct, but don’t look back as I tear through the house toward the front door.

When I’m five feet from it, a bullet whizzes past my head and embeds itself in the drywall with a spray of plaster. I duck and keep running, but another bullet goes straight through the door. I dive to the floor, hearing Viktor roaring in pain, and roll, slamming into the corner between the door and the wall.

Viktor is struggling to get Mojo to release his arm. Mojo’s got him by the wrist of the hand that’s gripping the gun, which is probably why his shots went wide and didn’t hit me. The dog is growling furiously and yanking his head back and forth hard, backing up to keep Viktor off balance.

But somehow, Viktor gets free.

He doesn’t bother wasting another shot at the dog. He simply raises his arm and strides toward me, pointing his gun at my face.

I raise my hands and scream, “Stop!”

Then there’s a thundering explosion of hot air and white light, and Viktor’s head explodes like a ripe tomato.

Blood and brain matter spray the wall and ceiling.

What’s left of him topples face first to the floor, where he lies, unmoving. Blood squirts from the severed artery in his neck.

I sit stunned, not understanding what happened. I stare in total disbelief at the dead man on my living room floor, until I raise my gaze and see Kage standing across the room, holding my father’s shotgun.

I guess he loaded it.

Happy birthday to me.





36





Nat





Kage drops the shotgun and flies across the room, falling to his knees next to me and cupping my face in his hands.

“Baby. Baby, talk to me. Are you hurt? Natalie, look at me. Look at me.”

Dazed, I rip my gaze from the headless remains of Viktor and focus on Kage.

I whisper brokenly, “Maxim…the money…my parents…you k-killed him…”

He gathers me into his arms and holds me tight. He kisses my head. Into my ear, he says, “You’re okay. Everything is okay. I’m here. Stand up.”

He tries to help me up, but my legs are useless. I sag against him, numb. He picks me up and carries me to the sofa, setting me down gently and smoothing my hair back from my face.

Standing over me, he says, “I need to take care of the body. Stay right here. Understand?”

I blink slowly, nodding, not understanding anything at all.

He kisses my forehead. Then he straightens, goes over to Viktor, rolls him up in the living room rug, hoists him over his shoulder, and carries him out the back door.

Watching them go, Mojo whines from his hiding place under the coffee table.

I don’t know how long it is before Kage returns. It seems like only a few minutes, but it could be hours. Days. Weeks. When he comes back in, he kneels on the floor in front of me. He takes my hands in his.

I try not to think about how much blood must be on them and focus on his face instead.

“Tell me what happened.”

I swallow, closing my eyes to banish the image that keeps playing on rewind of Viktor’s head exploding.

In a dull voice that sounds far away to my own ears, I say, “I got a phone call from Maxim. He said you’d betrayed him. Disobeyed him. He mentioned my parents. He said we all had to pay for how I turned you against him. Then Viktor was here. He asked where the money was. I told him about the trust you set up for me.

“Then he…he was weird. He wanted to know where you lived. If we’d been in contact. He acted like you weren’t working for Maxim anymore. I didn’t understand what he meant. Then it didn’t matter because he was going to shoot me. I tried to run…Mojo bit him…then it all happened so fast…”

I open my eyes. Kage kneels in front of me, squeezing my hands, looking anguished.

Looking guilty.

“Why did he come? What did you do? What’s happened?”

He’s silent for a moment, then he releases my hands and stands. He turns away, walks a few steps, stops, then turns back.

His expression has wiped blank. When he speaks, his voice is hollow.

“He came for the money. Like I did.”

I stare at him. It suddenly feels very hard to form words. “Like you did? I don’t understand.”

When he stays silent, I prompt, “You mean he wanted the trust money you gave me?”

“No.”

“Then what money was he talking about?”

The way he’s looking at me is frightening. There’s a deadness in his eyes, an ending, but I don’t know what it means.

He says quietly, “The one hundred million dollars your fiancé stole from Max.”

My wildly beating heart falls deathly still.

Once, when I was ten years old, I jumped off the highest diving platform at the community pool. Sloane dared me to do it, so of course I did.

I meant to do a cannonball, because that was fun and splashy. But I fucked it up, releasing my legs too soon and tumbling forward so I landed flat against the surface of the water.