Chapter 2 - The Red Line on the AsphaltThe heavy downpour drumming on the roof of the armored Mercedes was suddenly overwhelmed by the shriek of burning rubber.
Through the tinted glass, headlights flared like predatory eyes in the Nevada dark. The two black sedans slammed their front fenders against the Mercedes, trying to wedge the heavy limousine against the concrete divider of the Las Vegas freeway. Sparks rained against the ballistic windows in blinding yellow arcs.
“Sergei,” Nikolai spoke into the cabin intercom, his baritone so calm it defied human logic. “Ram the lead sedan. Clear the turnoff for Tropicana.”
“Hold on, boss!” Sergei growled.
The twin-turbo engine roared beneath the floorboards. The six-ton armored Mercedes surged forward like a charging rhino, its reinforced steel front bumper plowing directly into the driver’s side of the blocking sedan. The impact shook the chassis with bone-jarring violence. Metal shrieked and crumpled, sending the assassin's vehicle spinning wildly into a drainage ditch in a cloud of radiator steam and broken glass.
Nina was thrown across the leather cabin, crying out as her shoulder slammed into the armrest.
Before she could hit the floor, Nikolai’s arm clamped around her waist like an iron band. He hauled her effortlessly onto his lap, pulling her head down into the hollow of his shoulder, enveloping her entirely in his broad wool coat. The scent of fine tobacco, rain, and cold cedar filled her lungs.
“Stay beneath me,” Nikolai ordered, his chest vibrating against her temple. “Do not look up.”
A second later, the remaining sedan pulled alongside the passenger window. The passenger door rolled down, and a masked gunman leveled a suppressed submachine gun point-blank at the glass.
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
Heavy armor-piercing rounds cracked against the reinforced poly-carbonate window, blooming into white frosted spiderwebs but failing to puncture the inner cabin.
Nina gasped, her hands clutching Nikolai’s lapels with white-knuckled terror. In all her years working pediatric trauma, dealing with blood and broken bones, she had never been on the business end of an execution squad.
Nikolai didn’t flinch. His heartbeat remained slow, heavy, and steady beneath her cheek—the pulse of a predator in his natural habitat.
With his right hand, Nikolai reached to the control panel on his armrest, lowering the small firing port in the armored door frame by two inches. He slid the muzzle of his heavy automatic pistol through the slot and squeezed the trigger twice.
Boom. Boom.
The explosive report of the heavy-caliber rounds roared through the rain. Across the narrow gap between the moving vehicles, the front tire and engine block of the trailing sedan vanished in a violent eruption of shredded rubber and motor oil. The car fishtailed violently across three lanes of flooded asphalt before flipping end-over-end into a metal billboard support, exploding in a brilliant fireball that lit up the desert night.
Sergei straightened the wheel, and the Mercedes shot down the empty exit ramp toward the dark western edge of the city.
The cabin went deadly silent once more, save for the sound of the rain and Nina’s ragged, uneven breaths.
Slowly, Nikolai eased his grip, allowing Nina to sit up on the plush leather seat. He did not pull his hand away completely; his broad, warm fingers lingered on her trembling shoulder, checking her collarbones and neck for any sign of glass shards or bruising.
“Are you injured, Nina?” he asked, his gray eyes searching hers with intense, protective gravity.
“I’m... I’m not shot,” Nina whispered, wiping a cold bead of sweat from her forehead. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the adrenaline crash leaving her lightheaded. “Who were those men? Why is your fiancée trying to kill a pediatric nurse?”
Nikolai leaned back, his features setting into an expression so dark, so terrifying, that it seemed to pull the light from the interior lamps.
“Because Victoria Sterling thought my daughter’s murder was foolproof,” Nikolai whispered, his fingers tightening against his knees until the cloth strained. “Six months ago, she paid a chef fifty thousand dollars to lace Vera’s milk with potassium cyanide. She wanted Vera dead so our upcoming marriage would have no rival heirs to the Volkov casinos.”
Nina felt sick to her stomach. Bile rose in her throat. “A five-year-old child... she tried to poison a baby for casino shares?”
“She did not expect a night-shift nurse to defy federal medical codes and empty her own veins to keep my daughter’s heart pumping,” Nikolai said softly. “Victoria thought Vera survived by a miracle. But two days ago, her private investigator finally breached Valley Hospital’s offline backup archives and found your handwritten transfer memo in the hematology log.”
He looked directly into Nina’s wide, hazel eyes.
“She knew that if I ever discovered the angel who saved my daughter, the truth behind the poison would follow immediately. She wanted your silence buried in the desert before sunrise.”
May you like
He reached across the seat and placed his hand gently over hers.
“Sergei is taking us to the Sovereign Tower. From this moment on, you do not exist to the hospital, to the state, or to the Sterling family. You exist only under my roof.”
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