The Price of Winning: London Calling Book Four (26 page)

His head jerked around as the sirens outside became louder and more strident. She could tell he wanted to finish her but must have known his window for escape was closing.
 

He pointed his finger at her, an ugly look in his eyes. “You and I aren’t finished.” His face was purple and blotchy. He bared his teeth, nostrils flaring. “Someday, I will flay the skin off you while you still lay breathing.”

“I don’t know about you, Ms. Angeline, but I find these Russians to be too goddamned dramatic.” Dominic strolled into the room, looking impossibly cool and composed.
 

Petrov stumbled back two steps, his eyes darting from the doorway to the windows, clearly searching for an escape.
 

“All your little friends are already on their way to Scotland Yard.” Dominic smashed his fist into Petrov’s gut. “I think it’s time you joined them.”

Dominic landed two more blows, the last a powerful right cross that sent Petrov reeling to the ground.

“Dom,” Angeline shouted. Frantically, she waved to the floor. “Bas!”

Dominic’s eyes widened when he saw Sebastian writhing on the floor, gasping for air. Foam, pink and bloody, oozed from his mouth.

“Jesus,” Dominic exclaimed. His choice was instantaneous. He left Petrov and fell to the floor beside Sebastian.
 

The distinctive, shrill sirens of police and ambulances were impossibly close, drowning the city block in a cacophony of sound. Angeline crawled across the floor to Sebastian.

Distantly, she heard the sound of Petrov’s receding footsteps as he scurried away.
 

“Shit, shit,” Dominic chanted. He yelled at someone over his shoulder, “Get a stretcher in here!” He focused on Sebastian. “Stay with us now. Help is here.”
 

 
Gently, Angeline positioned Sebastian’s head in her lap. She cupped his cheek, trying to keep him awake.
 

“Don’t go to sleep, Bas.” Her voice was clogged with tears. This was her fault. She’d distracted him. “Come on. Think of Madeleine. You have to stay with us for Madeleine.” His eyes fluttered and a low moan came out of him. Angeline used her shirt to dab away the blood, turning his head so he wouldn’t choke.

“Oh God. Oh God.” The words were like a mantra, her attention never wavering from Sebastian’s face.
 

Paramedics crowded into the library, a stretcher between them.
 

Angeline and Dominic moved back, giving them room to work. She clutched at her necklace, twisting it between her fingers.

The medical professionals were quick, loading Sebastian onto the gurney. The last thing Angeline heard before they wheeled him away was the awful gurgling he made trying to breathe.

She sobbed then caught herself by pressing a fist hard against her mouth. Dominic looped an arm around her shoulders, supporting her as she limped through the house.

“We’ll follow straight away. You can be right by his side when he comes out of surgery.”

She smiled, but it quickly wavered. “He’ll want Madeleine. Where is she?”

Dominic cupped her elbow, helping Angeline over the debris of the front entrance. She could see that the blasts, while deafening from within, had been relatively self-contained. That might explain why the police had taken longer to arrive than she’d thought.

“She’s on her way.” Dominic stopped, squeezing Angeline’s shoulder to keep her from moving forward.
 

“What…” She looked up.
 

Five feet away, a man stood, staring.
 

He was tall and muscled with broad shoulders. His hair, once dark, was streaked with silver at the temples.

Even this far he smelled of cedar and rain, like a Pacific forest in the spring.

But it was his eyes that captured her—pale gray with dark charcoal rims.

Only one man had eyes like that, and she would know him anywhere.
 

“Lean?” John Sinclair looked as shocked and confused as she felt. He took two steps toward her then stopped, hand outstretched.
 

Angeline thought she might be hallucinating. Was he real? Before she realized it, she’d met him half way. Shame and heartbreak warred inside her, defeated by the simple, unbridled joy of seeing him again. Dazed, she reached out, found his hand.

He was solid and real. Gasping, she met his beautiful eyes.
 

After twenty years he was still the love of her life.
 

Blackness swooped up, smothering her. Her body did the only thing it could, considering the circumstances.

She crumpled in a dead faint, landing neatly at his feet.

***

Four thousand miles across the Atlantic, Madeleine hung up the phone, carefully replacing the receiver on the hotel’s handset.

She crossed to the windows, pulling back the curtains with one finger. The sky was overcast, threatening rain again. A shitty evening for a walk. She wondered what the weather was like in London and if Sebastian had finished with the Russians yet.

Her attorney had confirmed that Jeremy Green was granted parole with a special dispensation for early release. He would be staying with his parents in central Illinois, and they’d created a special position for him within their family business to meet the requirements set out by the state.

Of course she already knew he was free.

The flowers were classic Jeremy. And the card echoed his final words to her, screamed across a courtroom seven years ago.

I will come for you.

I will destroy and butcher you until nothing remains.

I will bring you to nothing.

Madeleine dropped the curtain with a loud, unladylike snort.

Jeremy Green could fuck off.

He’d stolen so much of her life already. He wasn’t going to get another day out of her.

To her cost, she’d learned the hard way how slowly the wheels of the justice system turned. She wouldn’t be waiting around this time, not when he’d already made his move.

She checked her cell phone. Her man was outside.
 

One day ago she’d told Dominic where she was and why. It shouldn’t have surprised her that in the time since then, he hired a man to keep an eye out on her.

But it did.
 

She grinned. Dominic Martin was a force to be reckoned with.
 

And really, in this instance, his overprotectiveness would come in handy. Considering Jeremy was on the loose, she’d be putting Dominic’s man to good use.

Madeleine straightened her blouse and briefly considered swapping her ballet flats for something more athletic.

She looked down. Nope. Her outfit was perfect. And when the going got tough, a girl could still kick it with some style.

She pulled her hair back into a high pony with a plain elastic band.
 

All set.

She strolled to the door of her room, her stride bouncy. As an afterthought, she grabbed the umbrella the taxi driver had given her.

She rode the elevator downstairs then exited on the street. With a quick glance either direction, she saw Dominic’s hired man standing half a block away on her right. He’d described himself to her the first time they’d talked. He’d followed up with a selfie, just so she’d know him for sure.

She took off on her walk, swinging the umbrella by its curved handle as she sauntered along.
 

Five city blocks along and a chill chased up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. With the kind of certainly only bad experience could bring, she knew she was being followed. Surreptitiously, she checked the opposite sidewalk, relieved to see Dominic’s hired gun.

She turned down a lesser-populated side street, still busy since it was downtown Chicago. Some of the streetlights hadn’t switched on yet, despite the darkly clouded sky.
 

Perfect.
 

The Gold Coast and surrounding area was generally considered a safer part of the city. But no part of Chicago was without crime. The key was knowing which streets to avoid.

Or in Madeleine’s case, which ones to take.

She dawdled along, peering into boutique shop windows. When the rain began to fall, she ducked into a gap between buildings, her back to the street. She fumbled with her umbrella, every sense on high alert.

He came at her right flank. In a second, Jeremy had jerked the umbrella away from her and stepped close, grabbing her ponytail to pull her back against his body.
 

She very nearly gagged. His breath was sour. And since going to prison, he’d developed a paunch.

She forced herself to whimper when all she wanted was to rage.
 

He laughed, the sound high-pitched and feminine. “I told you I would find you, Madeleine.” His voice was shrill, overexcited.

He was so predictable. She rolled onto the balls of her feet but stayed in position. She knew he’d have more to say.

“You had me locked up! And now it’s your turn to pay.” His agitation escalated. He jerked back on her hair, screaming in her ear. “I’m going to cut your pretty face and body into pieces, you
bitch
.”

Madeleine let the pain center her, like Sebastian had taught. Then, because she was already tired of Jeremy’s twisted presence, she kicked into gear.
 

There was no thinking involved—only reflex born of her hours on the mat.

Rather than pull forward, she threw her body backward, throwing Jeremy off balance. She twisted, bringing one hand up to protect her face while her shoulder plowed into him.
 

He released her hair, grunting in pain.

Adrenaline sang through her veins. In response, she tucked her head, drove forward, and chopped furiously at his arm where he held the umbrella. Pivoting, she came in hard with an elbow strike to his face.
 

Then another for good measure.

Blood spurted from his nose.

He staggered and loosened his grip on the umbrella. She snatched it free, then spun away to deliver a stunning roundhouse kick to his chest. He nearly went down, but she was there, holding his shoulders and delivering a hard knee to his groin.
 

Then another for good measure.

She smiled with grim satisfaction.

Dammit, she’d liked to have given him a few more.
 

But he was doubled-over, tipping head first for the pavement. She helped him along by gripping the umbrella in both hands to slam against his neck. He howled, falling forward. Madeleine continued kicking him in the face and gut, not letting up until she heard sirens on the street.

Jeremy Green laid writhing on a dirty Chicago sidewalk, crying. Madeleine looked down at him in disgust.

It had been so easy. The entire fight couldn’t have taken more than four minutes, at most.
 

Bring her to nothing?

Bitch, please.

After pulling her hair, he hadn’t managed to lay a single finger on her.

Madeleine threw her head back, laughing at the expression on the face of Dominic’s hired man.

“Why did he think you needed me?” His mouth was open, and he kept looking from Madeleine to Jeremy.

She dusted off her hands. “Easy. Someone needed to call the police.” She started laughing again, feeling impossibly strong and fearless.

Two of the officers took their statements while another cuffed Jeremy and shoved him in the back of the patrol car.

Her last glimpse showed him bloody and beaten.
 

By her.
 

She took off, walking back the way she’d come, umbrella swinging at her side. Fat drops of rain continued to fall, soaking her to the skin.

Sebastian would be so proud of her. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

CHAPTER TEN

J
OHN
S
INCLAIR
STARED
at his estranged wife, lying in a heap at his feet. Dominic made a move to help, but with one quick shake of his head, John held him off.
 

“She’s mine.” His voice was rusty, as if unused for decades. He knelt beside her, smoothing her glossy chestnut hair back from her face.

Her cheek had a raised, angry welt across it. Darkened blood was crusted at the corner of her mouth.

He traced her jawline, his touch as insubstantial as a feather.
 

Purple bruises mottled her neck, and he was sure he could pick out individual points where fingertips had marked her.

A muscle flexed in his jaw. He looked up at Dominic. “Tell me you caught the son of a bitch.”

Dominic shook his head, his mouth downturned. “We got all his friends, but lost Petrov. I had to get to Bas.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry, John.”

He looked up at him. “No, you did the right thing. Sebastian was more important.” He slid his arms under Angeline’s knees and shoulders, cradling her. With one smooth motion, he stood, lifting her with him.

He carried her away from the chaos of Sebastian’s house. Patrick stayed behind with his son as John walked with her to a nearby park bench, away from the noise of emergency personnel.