Dimitri reacted swiftly. Something about the way Pierce smugly and easily contained her was troubling. He seemed to be enjoying overpowering Hanna. Perhaps he had misread Dimitri’s agreement about leaving the room as a hall pass to rough the woman up. However, his assumption would be grossly misread. Pierce wasn’t one of them, and he had no right to touch anyone, especially one of the females.
The Russian leaped forward, grabbed Pierce by the shoulder, and swung him around. Despite being slightly smaller in height than the first shirt, Dimitri had the physical advantage and an attitude to fear. He shoved Pierce across the room.
As she was released, Hanna fell back toward the window. The men locked eyes. The message was clear from Dimitri to Pierce. You try to touch her again, I’ll fuck you up. Pierce put his hands up in surrender and backed away toward the counter Dimitri had just forfeited a moment before.
Hanna was watching Pierce like a hawk when she lowered her eyes to the back of Dimitri’s neck. He was still squared off with Pierce, and his back was to her. It wasn’t difficult to miss the long vertical surgical incision that ran down his neck to his shoulder blades. Similar to the one Gail had on her neck, this wound was starting to bleed and gape open. The skin had started to separate, leaving an eighth-inch gap through the incision. This revealed a thick, oozy substance that was dark and slowly seeping.
“You’re bleeding,” she said reluctantly.
Dimitri ended his long death stare with Pierce and looked to Hanna. “Where?”
“Your neck,” she replied.
He reached around the top of his hairline and retrieved a few fingers of thick blood. His expression morphed from surprise to confusion. He checked other parts of his body for injury.
Pierce squinted his eyes with suspicion. It was another troubling discovery. It was just like the one he had witnessed on the lieutenant earlier. There must be an outbreak or something, he thought. Whatever it is, I’ve got to get the hell out of here. He glanced back to the countertop and contemplated his next move. Spread across the surface was the set of scattered tools Dimitri had recently used on the elevator. Among them were two screwdrivers, one flathead and one Phillips head. There were plenty of weapons if he wanted. Would that be the right move? Or should I just try to leave? Leaving sounded like a bad choice, but staying in the room with the Russian in that condition was even more illogical.
The investigation of his wound distracted Dimitri. It was an opportunity to strike if Pierce wanted. It was a clear shot. A clean kill. He’d go quickly with a hit to the throat. Pierce was trained to use just about any type of inanimate object as a weapon. It was part of the deal here. Surrendering the room was not an option. However, the bigger question was what to do with the woman after the Russian went down.
Dimitri’s perplexed moment was only compounded by the fact he felt no pain on his neck or the sensation of blood. Blood was typically hard to detect as it first left the body. It was exactly the same temperature as the body’s core. Despite the absence of the pain from his wound, Dimitri’s situation was getting harder to ignore. With each passing breath, gravity seemed to wear down the Russian’s unwieldy body. He was unbalanced and really needed to sit down for his own good. His legs started to tremble. He was starting to suffer from some type of head pain. He grabbed a few fingers of pinched skin around the side of his temple and started to massage it through the pain of a migraine.
“It’s nothing. Just a cut,” he said dismissively.
His words were clearly designed to convince himself rather than the others. He slowly rested his left hand down on a countertop and stared toward the floor, massaging his head with his right hand.
“Dizzy. I just need a minute,” he declared.
Hanna’s attention started to drift back toward the hallway exit when she caught a twitch of movement from the corner of her eye. In a blur, Pierce swiped the flathead screwdriver from the countertop and moved into the attack toward Dimitri.
“Dimitri!” she shouted with a full set of lungs.
Pierce lunged forward, and his arm thrust downward in a stab.
Dimitri’s reaction was quick and lucky. He spun around and caught the impact of the screwdriver with his forearm. The raw adrenaline helped numb the burning sensation of the shredded muscle tissue as it ripped from the bone with the twist of the screwdriver. He grabbed the back of Pierce’s neck with his other hand, sending them into a pivot spin back toward the doorway. The men slammed into the wall with the combined force of 452 pounds. Dimitri absorbed all of it. He was crushed underneath Pierce. Pierce had him pinned to the tile, locking his injured arm down with the protruding screwdriver. With his free right hand, he punched firmly into the Russian’s lower abdomen. It was all Dimitri could do to keep his upright stance and kung fu grip on Pierce’s sweaty neck.
Pierce ripped the screwdriver from Dimitri’s forearm and lifted his blade for a second strike toward the Russian’s face. Dimitri managed to block the second stab with his injured arm. He quickly grabbed Pierce’s wrist and fought back the screwdriver from his eye socket. The men went back and forth for several seconds, but it felt like hours. Each thrust was getting the point of the screwdriver closer to Dimitri’s face.
The security of the tiled wall offered Dimitri a benefit. Pierce was pushing him toward the wall. His back was arched, and his legs were starting to slide away from his center. Dimitri glanced down and noticed the man’s boots slowly skidding out from under him. He quickly kicked the man’s boots back, causing Pierce to slide downward toward the aged linoleum and onto his stomach. The men struggled for a few seconds as gravity took over. Dimitri twisted his body, sending them both crashing to the floor. Pierce rolled over the top of Dimitri and punched down into his ribs.
Hanna raced in to aid Dimitri in the struggle, but her assistance was futile. Pierce easily shoved her away with his arm, sending her into a roll across the floor in a blur. Dimitri struggled under Pierce’s weight for about forty seconds. He knew what he had to work with, and he had to do it quickly. Gravity was on Pierce’s side. He was starting to angle the tip of the screwdriver down toward his throat. He needed to strike hard, or he would be a dead man. Dimitri was a good wrestler and needed to think outside of the mat for this one. Use what you’ve got, even if it hurts.
With his free hand, he grabbed Pierce’s vest collar and pulled the man’s head toward his. Dimitri swung his head out from the side, sending a minor headbutt to the side of Pierce’s upper nose. Pierce jolted back as blood started to drip instantaneously from his nostrils. Dimitri lifted his shoulders off the floor and balanced on the bottom side of his elbows. He tilted his head back and released a second headbutt into Pierce’s face. The man loosened his grip. It was all Dimitri needed. He quickly lassoed Pierce’s neck with his arm and rolled him over in the opposite direction. He now had the advantage, locking Pierce to the floor in a wrestling-style hold.
With the screwdriver still planted in his fist, Pierce swung the point toward Dimitri’s temple. Dimitri grabbed hold of the man’s fist. The blade of the screwdriver angled down toward the floor and Pierce’s face. A downward thrust. Dimitri lifted up, placing his entire weight on top of the handle.
Hanna stumbled back, not sure what she was seeing. Her body was in shock, and she was still trying to recover from being shoved across the floor. She watched helplessly as Dimitri continued shoving the screwdriver downward. “Dimitri, no! It’s not worth it,” Hanna cried out.