Hard to Kill: a Hard Targets novel Read online

  "It doesn't matter what you do to me. The FBI probably have the evidence as we speak." Fake it until you make it. Her brother's motto had just become hers.

  He stopped, a nervous twitch bobbing his head. "You're bluffing." He regained his swagger. "And even if they manage to come up with something, I'll make it disappear, as I do every other threat that comes my way."

  "Believe what your big ego wants you to." Her brothers and Kane would be looking for her by now. If she could only stall him another minute or two, they'd figure out what had happened to her. Unless they'd been overpowered by his men, like he'd threatened. She refused to think of that scenario.

  He yanked her outside to a veranda and locked the French doors behind him. It came down to the two of them as the music and crowd noise faded into the background.

  "You have nowhere to escape. There's only the canal." Sabrina glanced over the edge, hearing the lap of the water several floors below.

  "But this is the perfect place to make you disappear as if you were never here to begin with." He spat on the concrete at her feet. "You can't let anything go, can you?" His rhetorical question seemed to fade into the night. "Really, what's a few young girls here or there? They're unhappy with their life situation anyway."

  Grabbing her shoulders, he shook her. Knowing she had to pick the right moment was a lesson in patience. He knew her skills, as no doubt they were identical to his, assuming he wasn't lying about the Petrovich connection.

  "And being sold to disgusting old men for sex is the solution to their unhappiness? Is that how you justify your vile enterprise?" She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, but that was nearly impossible.

  Feeling the lessening of his grip, she brought her elbow back into his gut, while she twisted around. Even though he lost the gun, he was able to counter her move and put a chokehold on her. She broke his hold. They went at it as if warriors, trading and blocking strikes. At this point it wasn't about who was bigger or stronger. It was about who could anticipate the other's move to take advantage.

  If she only had a second, she could get to the knife strapped to her thigh, but his practiced moves didn't allow for respite. He anticipated every blow, as she did with him. The impasse lasted for what felt like an hour, but was probably more like minutes. She kicked between his legs, but the tight fit of her dress inhibited the movement until the seam ripped. By then it was too late. He had the upper hand as he brought her arm behind her back, inching her hand toward her shoulder. The pop and strain of the muscles and tendons brought a wave of pain. She spiked her heel into his foot and spun around. But he was waiting for it.

  The punch sent her sprawling along the cool stone floor. She scrambled away while reaching for her knife. He pounced, pinning her to the floor. His hands around her neck made her gasp for air.

  She tried to break his hold, but he knew that move. Instead, she ripped at his hands as spots appeared before her eyes. His thumbs dug into her windpipe, increasing the pressure. She tried to wedge her knee between them to release some of the force, but her strength was waning.

  She. Needed. A. Breath.

  To her shock, he let go. She sucked in a breath, even while she started to cough. It felt so good.

  "On second thought, killing you is too good for you. With the right drugs, you'll command a hefty profit." He fumbled in his pocket, but her mind was still fuzzy, unable to focus on the needle in his grasp. She tried to gather the strength to fight back, because it was that or sure death—one way or another.

  The sound of a crash registered somewhere in her mind as she twisted her neck to avoid the prick of the needle. Trinity looked up for a half-second, which allowed her time to grasp the knife. Before he registered her intent, she swung. She struck his chest and arm with a wide sweep, before the knife skittered to the ground. His recoil allowed her enough room to wiggle from beneath him.

  She heard someone call her name. When she glanced toward the sound of the voice, Kane stood on the adjacent balcony, ready to jump to hers. There were several feet separating the two. He'd never make it.

  "Kane, don't." The words stuttered out of her mouth.

  He made the leap as a gun sounded. His body seemed to stall in midair as if hitting a pause button on a TV. He let go a litany of curses when he missed the edge, his hands slipping down the railing.

  Her heart squeezed in her chest as he grappled for purchase. Bits of stone crumbled into chunks, plunking into the water below. Her breath stalled as she turned to see Trinity charging toward Kane, his gun aimed at the flailing man.

  "Nooooooo." The word tore through her throat as she ran, grasping the knife she'd lost earlier.

  She didn't have much time. A shot pulsed through the air. She launched the knife, striking Trinity in the neck. Blood spurted out, but he didn't collapse. Instead he stumbled a few steps, the gun still raised, ready to finish Kane off.

  Something foreign wet her cheeks as she tackled Trinity from behind, sending him sprawling headfirst into a stone bench. His body pulsed as blood soaked the back of his jacket and dripped onto the floor.

  "Kane." She rushed over to him, offering her hand to pull him to safety. Blood spread along his shirt, and the wetness she now recognized as tears rolled down her cheeks. He smiled when he saw her, but his face was deathly pale. She could almost see his strength slipping away with every beat of his heart. "Do not give up."

  His skin was slick from blood, making it difficult to get a strong grip. If he fell, he'd be lost in the murky waters below and would surely die.

  She kicked off her shoes and propped her feet against the pillars. The increase in leverage compensated for his waning strength. It seemed to take forever as she watched the blood spread down the sleeve of his shirt, but she finally managed to get him to the railing where she could shift him over.

  Bracing his fall as much as she could, she placed her fingers to his neck to find a pulse and sucked in a much-needed breath. Her brothers burst onto the balcony seconds later.

  "Get some help. Kane's been shot."

  Jake left while Max crouched down beside her, removing his jacket and pressing it to Kane's arm. "He's got a vest on. Looks like he got shot in the arm."

  "Vest?" She padded Kane's chest, feeling the reassurance of Kevlar beneath her fingertips. Thank God. She brought her lips to his cheek, relishing the warmth in his body. A sense of relief bounced around inside her while the tears continued to fall. Her fingers trembled as she stroked the stiff fabric of his shirt. Thoughts and fears of what-ifs tumbled in her head.

  His eyes popped open. Then he sucked in a rush of air—the sight itself bringing with it an unexpected chill to her spine. He blinked twice, as if trying to remember where he was. Then, as recognition hit, a smile eased up the corners of his mouth.

  "Are those tears?" He brushed at her cheek with his hand. She grabbed it, holding it to her face, relishing in the touch of his skin to hers. Unable to talk, she nodded. She was being such a wuss, but she couldn't seem to make it stop. Besides, the wetness against her cheeks felt good.

  He struggled to sit. Both she and Max urged him back to the floor.

  "Trinity?" The word eked out of his lips in an almost-whisper.

  For the first time, she glanced in that direction and spotted the now lifeless body. "Dead."

  "You did good." He smiled at her, although he still seemed weaker than a new puppy.

  Jake arrived seconds later, bringing a doctor along with him. The doctor pushed her and Max away as he attended to Kane. She chewed her lip and tried not to worry.

  Max grabbed her hand. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. Trinity…" She struggled to get the words out. "He worked with Petrovich. He said…" No, she couldn't utter the vile words of a madman right now.

  "What did he say?" Jake asked.

  Before she could even contemplate her response, the doctor called her over. He had propped Kane against one of the pillars into a sitting position.

  "I told him he should be transpor
ted to the hospital, but he's refusing. He said you and your brothers will get him there. He bumped his head, but the wound on his arm nicked an artery, which is where all the blood came from." The doctor smiled and grasped her hand. "No need for tears. He'll be perfectly fine." Without another word, he walked away.

  Sabrina still couldn't speak. Every time she attempted to open her mouth a bubble of emotion in the form of tears resurfaced, and she once again was blubbering like an idiot. She chewed on the inside of her cheeks, but that didn't stop the flow either.

  Kane wrapped his hand in hers. "Come closer." He forced her lips to his. "I don't think I've ever seen you this quiet," Kane remarked as Max and Jake helped him to a standing position.

  Tears pricked at her eyes, dotting the corners momentarily until a full-on stream ran down her cheeks once again. His thumb brushed along her face, feathering the wetness with his touch.

  "See what you've done." She sniffled, drawing in a shaky breath. "You've turned me into some sniveling, crying female." She shook her head.

  "I knew you were crazy about me," he teased, revealing his dimpled grin.

  "Crazy? We've established that a long time ago." Anything resembling the L-word she couldn't say for sure. But this feeling bursting inside her for Kane was close. Closer than she'd ever been before. And with a start like that, who knew where it might lead?

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Wendy has a Masters in Social Work and worked in the child welfare field for twelve years before she decided to pursue her dream of writing. Her first two books, Fractured and Mama Said were published in 2011 and 2012. Mama Said was a finalist in the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence Contest. She self-published The Christmas Curse in 2012.

  Between teaching college classes, trying to get her morbidly obese cat to slim down, and tempering the will of her five-year-old granddaughter, who's determined to become a witch when she turns six so she can fly on her broom to see the Eiffel Tower and put hexes on people—not necessarily in that order—somehow Wendy still manages to fit in writing. She spends the remainder of her days inflicting mayhem on her hero and heroine until they beg for mercy.

  To learn more about Wendy Byrne, visit her online at: http://www.wendybyrne.net

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  BOOKS BY WENDY BYRNE

  Hard Targets:

  Hard to Kill

  Other works:

  Mama said...

  The Christmas Curse

  Fractured

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  If you enjoyed this Hard Targets book, check out these other book available now from Gemma Halliday Publishing: