Ryker found the strength to get to his feet. It took a few seconds more for him to properly take his weight on his wobbling legs, and for the spinning in his head to subside.
His whole body was on fire from the beating he’d taken. The pain in his hand was indescribable. It was taking everything Ryker had to keep his focus off it. Now that he was upright, the blood began to drain from his brain. A wave of dizziness washed through him before Ryker felt clarity and lucidity return. He spun round, looking over the room.
The two goons were down. One had a slit neck and a huge pool of blood swept out from underneath his lifeless body, still growing by the second. The other goon had various puncture holes visible in the clothing around his chest. Each hole was seeping thick red blood onto the floor.
But other than the two dead men there was no one else in the room. No Giorgi. No Sergei.
No Red Cobra.
Ryker heard shouting outside. He grimaced as he moved forward and crouched down by the goon with the shotgun. Ryker took the weapon. It was loaded. He quickly searched the body and found a handgun. That was better. He could use it easily with one hand. There was also a spare magazine and a knife. Ryker used the blade to cut a swathe of cloth from the man’s shirt which he wrapped around his injured hand. He pulled it as tight as he could. It wouldn’t help the pain but would at least limit his blood loss.
Then he was up again, moving quickly – albeit torturously – to the exit, gun held out. Ryker stopped by the door and listened for just a second. Then he slowly pulled down on the handle and inched open the door, unsure exactly what he would be looking out onto.
He saw the yard outside. It was still night. The spotlights that had earlier cast a bright glow onto the area were now switched off. Giorgi’s black car was there, its headlights and the dim moonlight the only illumination in the darkened space. The car’s engine was idling. The rear passenger door was open.
Movement. Off to his right. Ryker saw three men: Sergei and another man shepherding Giorgi toward the waiting car.
No. Ryker wasn’t letting them get away.
But before he could spring into action, there was a flash of silver in the darkness – the Red Cobra making her attack.
Sergei spotted her. He let go of Giorgi and shoved the boss away as the Red Cobra swept past. She slashed her blade across Giorgi’s back and the old man fell to his knees. But it wasn’t a fatal blow. Sergei’s alertness had saved him.
The other underling tried to pick his boss back up. He couldn’t manage it on his own. Sergei took some of the weight, half-dragging Giorgi toward the car.
There she was again. Ryker saw her more clearly this time, maybe because he’d been expecting it. But so had Sergei. As the Red Cobra’s blade arced through the air, Sergei ducked and swivelled. His left leg extended and he swiped at the Red Cobra’s feet. She tumbled to the ground and landed on her back with a thud.
Sergei lunged for her. She swung the blade at him and caught him on the arm. Sergei didn’t even flinch. The way he moved, the determination in his eyes, his fearlessness...
It reminded Ryker of the man he used to be. Reminded Ryker of the fight he’d had with the Red Cobra up on the cliff top all those years earlier. And seeing that look in Sergei’s eyes... Ryker knew in that moment the Red Cobra was in serious trouble.
Unless he came to her aid.
The whole world before Ryker seemed to slow as thoughts raced through his head. He had the gun. He could shoot Sergei. Could shoot Giorgi too.
Could shoot the Red Cobra.
His orders from Winter had certainly been clear. But for some reason he wasn’t sure about that one.
The Red Cobra was becoming desperate. Sergei pummelled her with his fists, his elbows and his forehead. The attack was brutal. In stealth mode the Red Cobra was an ace, but she was no match for Sergei’s close combat skills, his strength and raging blows. She feebly swiped at him with the knife, catching him again on the arm. It made no difference. Ryker winced as blow after blow from the Vor rained down on her.
Soon she wasn’t moving. Still Sergei didn’t stop.
Ryker had seen enough.
He lifted his gun. Pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER 60
A clicking sound. No shot. The damn gun jammed!
Ryker cursed his bad luck. Perhaps blood had flooded the chamber. Maybe it was a dud. Thankfully, none of the other men heard the faint noise. Ryker was still in cover. But he knew he needed to do something.
Giorgi shouted to Sergei. The Vor stopped the savage beating and looked down at the unmoving figure beneath him. He smiled, his chest heaving in and out from exertion.
Giorgi said something else to Sergei in his native tongue. Sergei nodded and got to his feet. He grabbed the Red Cobra by her ankles and dragged her along the dirt, back toward where Ryker was standing.
Ryker had no doubt about Giorgi’s intention. The Red Cobra had killed his son. He wanted to kill her – but more than that he wanted to punish her. Much like he’d punished poor Kim Walker, whoever the hell she really was.
Whatever the Red Cobra’s crimes, whatever Ryker’s orders had been from Winter to kill her on sight, he wasn’t about to let a man like Giorgi get his sadistic way.
Ryker slung open the door. It flew wide open and smacked against the side of the building. He burst forward, his battered body running on nothing more than adrenaline.
The noise and sudden movement caught the attention of all three of the men in front of him. But they were all too slow to react. Sergei – hunched down and pulling the Red Cobra, when Ryker threw open the door – had no time to defend himself, and Ryker slammed a knee into the Vor’s jaw as he sped past. Sergei’s head snapped back and he crumpled, out cold. He wasn’t done for good, but Ryker knew he’d bought himself at least a few seconds.
Ryker bent down and grabbed the Red Cobra’s knife from the ground, just as Giorgi’s guard was pulling a gun toward Ryker’s head.
He never got the chance to fire.
Ryker spun around full circle and the blade cut through the flesh on the man’s neck like it was a sheet of paper. The single strike from the razor sharp blade damn near took the man’s head clean off. Blood hissed and sprayed from the wound as the man keeled over.
Giorgi was stepping back, a bemused look on his withered face. For all his bravado and confidence and devilishness, he was just an old man. His speed of thought, his bodily reactions, were too slow. He let out a pathetic groan as Ryker, still moving in a fluid motion, plunged the tip of the knife into Giorgi’s chest.
The mob boss gulped and stared into Ryker’s eyes. Ryker stared right back. He pushed the knife further. Pushed as hard as he could. The blade sunk through inches of flesh and Giorgi gargled.
Was he trying to speak? Ryker didn’t care. He twisted the blade. Giorgi grimaced and moaned.
Ryker heard a shout from behind him.
‘No!’
It was the Red Cobra. Surprise washed over Ryker. But then he realised what her cry meant.
She’d wanted to kill Giorgi herself.