Kissing My Killer (38 page)

Unless…

Unless they’d seen us come in and....

Oh no. Oh,
shit,
no.

Gabriella’s train was still pulling out of the station. For now, it was moving slowly enough that I could outrun it if I ran, but I knew that wouldn’t last long. I sprinted down the platform, checking each carriage as I passed. Commuters. Tourists. The train was picking up speed—I could barely stay ahead. Commuters. More commuters—

The train pulled ahead of me, going faster than I could run. That was when I saw them. Two more of Nikolai’s men, making their way slowly through the carriages, checking faces.

They were on the train.

Gabriella

The other passengers couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. At first, they—especially the women—thought it was just a normal break up. They patted my back, helped me to a seat and told me there were plenty of other men out there.

I told them viciously to
fuck the fuck off.

I stumbled to the bathroom and shut myself in. Tears were streaming down my face—this time, there wasn’t any mascara to run. And this time, the fear was worse than even what I’d felt with Seventeen.

I’d lost him. I’d really lost him. The greatest man who’d ever entered my life, the man who’d become my protector, my safe place, was gone. I was on a train filled with strangers, heading to a city I’d never been to before, to start a new life I didn’t want. The Dread welled up inside me, worse than ever. I’d never felt so utterly alone.

There wasn’t much space in the tiny room, but I bent my knees and slid down until I was sitting on the floor, hunched up against the door.

He was going to die. At Seventeen’s hands or, even worse, at the hands of the people he was trying to save. Bratva violence was going to claim him and there was nothing I could do about it. And this was all my fault. If I hadn’t hacked Nikolai’s computer in the first place, no one would have known about his plan. Alexei would still be in the same old life, doing his master’s bidding.

I began to sob—huge, wracking sobs that hurt my chest, my wet eyes pressed against the knees of my jeans. I cried for what we’d had together and what we could have had.

And then someone knocked on the door of the bathroom.

Alexei

I had to beat the train. That was my only chance: beat the train to the next station and get on. I checked the screens. The train had left Penn Station at exactly 2pm. It stopped at Newark Penn Station at twelve minutes past.

I had less than twelve minutes to save her.

Nikolai’s thug at the exit didn’t even see me coming. I hit him like a truck, sending him sprawling across the tiles, and sprinted straight for the parking lot. As I’d thought, they had a guy watching the car. When he saw me, he reached for his gun. I grabbed him and slammed him into the hood. He was still sliding to the ground when I pulled away and sped off down the street.

I should never have left her!
I’d just been trying to keep her safe, but the only safe place was at my side.

If I got her back, I was never letting her go again.

I sped over the Hudson River doing eighty and saw the train up ahead. Then the road curved away from the train tracks, a route that would take me close to an hour.

I turned off the road and went in a straight line instead, ignoring a red light. Cars coming the other way slammed on their brakes, honking their horns. I didn’t even look up. I just pressed the gas pedal to the floor, honking my own horn to get people out of the way, slewing onto the sidewalk when the traffic was too slow. I checked my watch. 2:08. My stomach lurched. I tried to deny what my brain was telling me.

By now, the men on the train would have found her.

Even if I caught the train, I was going to be too late.

Gabriella

I ignored the knocking at the bathroom door for a while—they could damn well
wait!
But it was so persistent, I eventually relented. I opened the lock through blurry, tear-filled eyes and swung open the door. I tried to step past the person, not wanting them to see my tear-streaked face. But a hand on my stomach sent me staggering back into the bathroom.

I looked up to see a guy in a suit. I recognized the look immediately: the close-cropped, ex-military haircut, the big muscles stretching out the suit jacket. One of Nikolai’s men. He stepped inside the bathroom and locked the door.

This is how I die.
Beaten or strangled to death while the other passengers sat unaware, just outside. I knew I should scream, but the man’s big hands were already extending towards me and I was frozen with fear.

I looked up into his face and saw the same cold stare there that Alexei had once had. He was just doing his job. Just following orders. He was going to tie up the loose end I represented and then probably kill Alexei, too and Nikolai would be free to wipe out the Malakovs. He was assisting in the murder of a whole family and he didn’t even know it. I wanted to sob at the stupidity of it. The world didn’t need men like him; it needed men like Alexei.

His hands came down on my shoulders. That felt oddly familiar. The start of a pattern I’d learned over and over. I felt the instinctual need to pull away.

Alexei’s voice in my head.
Grab him around the neck with both hands.

I came back to life and my arms seemed to act on their own. My fingertips dug into the fleshy warmth of his neck and I pulled down,
hard,
stepping back as I did it.
He let out a gasp, almost a laugh, as if he couldn’t believe someone like me was trying to fight.

I brought my knee up into his chest. That took him completely by surprise and he folded, his head coming down. I felt the change in him as he started to take this seriously. He tried to rise, but I pulled his head hard against my breast. I was operating on autopilot, now, my body just doing what came next in the sequence.
Swing my arm up. Edge of my wrist against his windpipe.

Push.

My stomach lurched as I felt his windpipe, gristly against my bone. He began to fight, panicking and slapping at me, but Alexei had taught me well. Even with my small body, I had the advantage in this position.

He thrashed, feet kicking at the door behind him. I pushed harder, closing my eyes to shut out the reality of what I was doing, wincing as his hands slapped and punched at me—

And then, suddenly, I felt him change. He went from being a fighting, kicking person to just a heavy load. I released his neck and he slithered to the floor, nearly bringing me down with him. I scrambled to check his pulse.

Still breathing. Just unconscious.

I heaved him up onto the toilet—it was the only way I could get the door open. Then I backed out of the door, closing it behind me—

And almost walked right into the second man. He was marching towards me with the same icy stare as the first, pushing people when they got out of his way.

I turned and ran.

I fled through the next passenger car and the dining car, trying to resist the urge to look over my shoulder. Every time I turned, he was closer. He was bigger than me, scarier than me—the same people who blocked me jumped out of his way.
Should I stop? Ask for help?
But then what? I remembered how these men had sprayed bullets into our motel room. They’d gladly kill a few bystanders, just to get to me.

I could feel the train slowing down. We must be nearing a station—could I get off? But the slowing only made things worse: without the train rocking around, it was easier to run...and he could run faster than me. By the time the train stopped, he was almost on me.

I dived for a door, but it was blocked by people swarming on. Then I felt a hand on my collar, dragging me back into the train. He pulled me across the carriage towards the far door, the one that was still locked because it led onto the tracks. Then he slammed me up against it, knocking the air out of me.

He was taller than me and his big body blocked mine from sight. Then his hand pressed over my mouth and I couldn’t even scream for help. No one could see what he was doing, and everyone was too busy trying to get onto the train and find a seat—they ran right past us.

There was a metallic click and I looked down to see a flick knife pointing at my belly. On instinct, I grabbed his wrist with both of mine, straining to hold it away from me. But I was exhausted and sobbing and no match for his strength. The shining blade started to ease closer and closer.

Alexei

I screeched to a stop in front of the main entrance of Newark Penn Station, leaving the car in the street with the engine still running. The clock outside said 2:12. All the way across town, the rage had been building and building inside me—now, as I ran into the station, it solidified into diamond-hard intent. I’d come to hate what I was, to want to be better than a cold-blooded killer. But at that moment, the killer in me was back. I was going to get to her and the hell with anyone who got in my way.

I sprinted through the building, yelling the same thing at anyone I saw:
“Washington train! Which platform?”