But when they smiled and nodded at Novikov, Lock suddenly understood that these bears were hockey fans. Fans who didn’t want to hurt Bo “The Marauder” Novikov.
Disgusted, he wondered if these idiots really thought that either Lock or Novikov would ever consider letting them get away with shooting some helpless woman to death in a stairwell.
At least that was what he was thinking until that helpless dead woman slowly and silently pulled herself up into a crouch and unleashed her obscenely long claws.
Taking her time, Livy moved until she was right beneath one of the other bears. She waited a beat, two . . . and rammed those claws between the bear’s legs. His agonized roar of pain rang out as Livy twisted her claw, dragged it out a bit, readjusted, then rammed it back in again.
The uninjured black bear aimed his gun at Livy, but she caught hold of it with her other hand and stood. She yanked at the gun, but he didn’t give it up, so she went up on her toes and slashed the shorter bear across the face. He screamed, one of his eyes landing a few feet away.
Livy took the black bear’s gun from his now-weakened grip, and Lock grabbed Novikov from behind. He yanked his teammate up the stairs and dropped them both to the ground as shots hit the wall and door where they’d just stood.
In a few seconds, it was all over, and together, he and Novikov stood and walked to the top of the stairs, looking down at all those dead bears and Livy. Who was not dead.
Without her head moving, her gaze lifted to Lock’s. He saw the rage in her black eyes. Something he’d never seen from her before. He’d seen her annoyed, but never truly angry. But as blood wept from her many wounds and her body shook, Lock wasn’t exactly surprised when Livy unleashed a roar of her own.
Lock pulled out his cell phone. When the call was answered, he said, “Dee-Ann . . . we have a major problem.”
After arranging his parents’ flight to the States, and their hotel room at the Kingston Arms, Vic and Shen went to the Sports Center. Vic had already lost an hour of his life arguing with Livy’s uncles, and the last thing he wanted was for her to hear the latest from them.
So it was with the intent of telling her what was going on that he walked into her office, freezing halfway into the room when he saw giant pictures of his naked self on her desk.
“Oh my God.”
Shen came in behind him, his cell phone ring of zoo pandas eating bamboo really annoying Vic at the moment.
Looking for the phone in his jacket, Shen laughed and pointed at the big prints. “Is that you?” He laughed harder. “I can’t wait until your mother sees that. This is Shen,” he said into the phone.
A few seconds later, Shen walked out of the room and Vic stood there, staring.
“She can’t seriously be planning to show these to anyone . . . can she?”
Vic stepped back to rest his ass against Livy’s desk, but as he did he saw her camera there.
Frowning, Vic picked it up, disturbed by the rattling sounds coming from inside it. The high-end Nikon had been seriously damaged. The lens appeared torn out, the body of the camera battered. Then he noticed the blood covering the back of it.
Vic lifted his head and saw Shen standing in the doorway, his friend staring at him silently, his phone still in the hand hanging limply at his side.
“Where is she, Shen?” Vic asked. “Where’s Livy?”
CHAPTER 30
Shen had insisted on driving, which was probably a good idea. Vic couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t focus. He could barely breathe.
They arrived at a house on Long Island in the middle of what Vic knew was Malone family territory. The Malone tigers were descended from Irish Travellers and would take over entire streets so that strangers couldn’t wander in and get into their business.
Shen parked the truck next to a silver BMW that Vic recognized. It belonged to Livy’s uncle Balt. It seemed her family had been informed about what had happened before Vic. Something he was not happy about but not really interested in at the moment.
Vic stepped out of the truck, and he heard a screen door open. He scanned the street and saw Cella Malone standing on the porch. She waved and Vic walked toward her, Shen following behind.
Cella let him into the house, and without a word, led him through the home, to the kitchen, and down into a finished basement.
As he made it down the stairs, Vic stopped. Livy’s family filled the room. The older aunts and uncles sitting on couches and chairs, the younger nieces, nephews, and cousins on the floor.
Vic looked at Cella and she moved forward, stepping around the badgers until she reached a room. She opened the door and Vic walked in.
A black woman, whom Vic scented as a mountain lion, leaned over an unconscious Livy, pulling bullets out of the honey badger with surgical instruments. She didn’t wear a mask, but she’d managed to get on latex gloves. Still, it was obvious to Vic she’d gotten right to work as soon as Livy hit the table because the sleeves of her bright white cashmere sweater were haphazardly rolled up and the front covered in blood splatters.
The woman glanced up, and Vic recognized her from the Sports Center. He’d occasionally seen her hanging around Cella Malone’s office, but he didn’t know her personally.
“I’m almost done,” the woman said. “I’ll be out in a little bit.”
Cella motioned Vic out, and he stepped back into the other room. She closed the door and stood in front of it.
Vic stood there for a bit, but he couldn’t take it. He walked up the stairs and out of the house. He rested his arms against the fence that circled the property and took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working.
“Vic?”
He looked down to see Blayne and Gwen staring up at him.
Gwen shook her head. “He’s about to have a hybrid break.”
“We have to calm him down,” Blayne said.
“No time for that,” a voice barked. Big hands grabbed Vic from behind and pushed him out of the gate and into the street. Vic looked back to see Novikov holding him.
“Can’t . . . can’t breathe . . .” Vic panted out.
“Breathing’s not your problem.” Novikov looked around and finally pointed at an old but well-maintained bright red ’78 Camaro. “That one.”
“What . . . what?”
Novikov took Vic’s hands and placed them on the car. “Do it, Barinov. It’s the only thing that’ll stop you from killing everyone in a five-mile radius. Just do it.”
Vic didn’t know what Novikov was talking about. He didn’t understand anything right now. He just knew he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything because something inside him was breaking loose and . . . and . . . and . . .
Blayne bit her lip and winced as Vic Barinov picked up that Camaro and sent it flipping and rolling down the street.
“Hey!” Dee-Ann said, running out of the house. “That’s my car!”
Blayne caught Dee-Ann before she could run into the street, and threw them both to the ground seconds before Vic’s roar of rage and emotional pain was unleashed. House and car windows exploded up and down the street as car alarms blared.
After Vic had roared himself out, Bo placed his hand on Vic’s shoulder and steered him toward the house. “I’ll take him back inside.”
Dee-Ann finally lifted her head. “What the holy fuck was that?”
Gwen, who’d dived to the ground on the other side of Blayne, lifted her head and said, “It’s called a hybrid break. They’re rare, but they happen.”