A fist yanks my hair, wrenching my head back before I’m hurled against the wall. My head cracks against it, and I slide down onto my side.
“You know, only women pull hair,” I rasp, grinning up at him. “So, it’s fair to say—you fight like a bitch.”
My manic laughter pulls him closer as I adjust my body position.
Right where I need him.
The moment he steps into range, I strike, sweeping my leg out. My heel connects with his knee, and he collapses with a grunt.
I lunge, slamming my fist into his jaw, then his ribs—once, twice—before he roars and rolls us over, pinning me beneath his weight.
Thick, meaty hands wrap around my throat.
I gasp, spots dotting my vision as he squeezes.
I can hear the other one limping closer, his gun cocking.
Fuck.
“She’s not to be killed!” Big man shouts.
With the last of my air, I snap my forehead forward, colliding with my attacker’s skull. Pain explodes behind my eyes, but his grip loosens just enough. I don’t hesitate—I adjust my dagger between my fingers and throw it.
I don’t get a chance to see if it lands before the second goon’s fist slams into my skull.
Stars.
I barely register the impact before suddenly—he’s gone.
Ripped away like he weighs nothing.
I gasp, chest heaving, and blink up at the man standing over me.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
Broad. Muscled. Towering.
Eyes like ice—piercing blue and merciless.
The kind of man who could break me in half without trying.
My heart stutters. My breathing turns shallow.
“Hello, shalunishka,” he says, voice deep, gravelly, and unmistakably Russian.
A full-body shiver wracks me.
My panties dampen at the sheer presence of him.
“Kaz, what are you doing, man?” Another voice cuts through the tension. “Help the lady up and let’s go.”
Kaz.
Dark, broody, and fucking lethal energy.
Pulling a gun from his waist band, I watch waiting my breath held. Before he aims at the man he pulled off of me and shooting him in the back of the head.
Then he reaches for me, and feminism be damned—I let him lift me effortlessly into his arms.
