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That was just her luck.
She watched him closely, knowing he would rush
her any second and when he did, he would likely kill her.
Where the hell was security? She knew there were monitors placed throughout the maze to allow Raymond’s security team to keep an eye on it during the house parties. The richest men in the world congregated here for two weeks of the year. They couldn’t afford a crack like this in their surveillance.
“When I kill you, I will send a prayer up to Carlos,” he told her. “He will smile down at me.”
“Smile up at you, you mean.” She smiled herself, a tight curve of her lips that mocked his statement. “I rather doubt Carlos made it into heaven, Alberto. He’s burning in hell and waiting on you.”
Could have been the wrong thing to say.
She managed to jump from the first thrust of the knife, the blade barely missing her abdomen before he came back with another parry.
Bailey managed to grip his wrist and moved to break it. Unfortunately the fingers that wrapped in the long strands of her hair clenched and jerked, hauling her back as she maintained her hold on his wrist.
“You bastard!” she screamed furiously, kicking back, her foot connecting with his knee and nearly throwing him off balance.
His hand loosened in her hair for just a second. Just long enough for her to jerk her head back and away from him as she fought his wrist, struggling to keep the knife out of harm’s way. As well as her throat. She made a mental note to ensure that if he actually managed to kill her, she would haunt him until he took that knife to his own throat. The bastard.
“Little bitch,” he snarled as she managed to ram her fist into his nose. “Cunt. Whore.”
Filthy-mouthed prick.
She didn’t have the energy to hold back that knife and curse him at the same time.
A second later she was flying through the air, landing on her back heavily and staring up at the sky as the wind left her body in a rush.
Oh God, that hurt.
She wheezed through the pain as she tried to roll to her side to get back to her feet.
She didn’t have the time. Within a breath that she didn’t have, Alberto was straddling her, one hand locked in her hair to pull her head back, exposing her neck as she flailed about with her hands in an attempt to latch on to his wrist again.
She couldn’t do anything with him. He was too big. Too strong. He was smothering the breath from her chest as he sat on her, strangling her air even as he prepared for the killing stroke of his knife.
She was going to die. And unlike Trent’s “death,” hers would be forever.
Dots danced before her eyes as she struggled to breathe. Darkness edged at her mind and her eyes grew dazed as she watched his arm pull back. Watched the blade glint, sunlight striking off it, nearly blinding her.
As she accepted the fact that she couldn’t throw him, couldn’t evade that night, a curious roar filled the air. It was enraged, animalistic, and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in primal response.
As the swift arc of the knife closed on her throat, she was suddenly free.
The unexpected rush of air had her strangling, oxygen wheezing through her lungs as she was jerked roughly from the ground and shoved into the dubious protection of the tall hedges that made the corridor.
She slumped in the snow, shaking her head as she fought to understand exactly what had happened. When she managed to clear her vision and focus, it was over.
John’s fist rammed into Alberto’s bloody face, the force of it driving the other man’s head back and slumping him to the ground.
“Take care of this.” John jumped back from the body, scooping the knife up as he moved as he turned to Travis, his gray eyes snapping with storm-cloud intensity. “I want to know who hired him and why before you return. Understood?”
Travis nodded sharply before using the ripped sleeve of Alberto’s long-sleeved shirt to secure his hands. He ripped the material away casually, tied it tight around the other man’s wrists, then hauled him up until he could toss him over his shoulder.
“Bailey.” John was beside her in a second, his hands going to her arm where a long, narrow slice oozed blood.
She blinked up at him.
