Hard Line - Pamela Clare Page 0,79

into Isaksen’s gut.

The fucker doubled over with a grunt, lost his balance, and sank to the floor.

“St-stop!” Samantha threw the chisel and grabbed a moving blanket off the elevator floor, then covered Isaksen and sat behind him, cradling his head against her shoulder. “Th-Thor, are y-you okay? H-he needs the d-doctor.”

“Fuck him!” Steve pointed the rifle at Sam’s head. “I should shoot you both!”

“L-let her g-go.” Isaksen’s face was unnaturally pale. “She’s done n-nothing to you, Delaney.”

Hardin flinched. “The name is Hardin.”

“Stephen M-Michael Delaney.” Sam glared at him, her cheek red where he’d struck her. “You g-got fired by T-Titan. You w-wanted revenge.”

Blood rushed into Steve’s head, his finger moving to the trigger.

“Wh-what good does it d-do to kill us now?” Isaksen asked. “Everyone kn-knows. You w-won’t get away with it.”

Vasily reached the bottom of the stairs and walked over to Steve, followed by his men. “I see you do not need our help. Put the rifle down. They are no threat.”

Steve supposed Vasily was right. “It took you long enough.”

Steve had returned the Russians’ rifles days ago—a gesture he’d hoped would win him their favor. It had worked. A short time ago, Vasily had promised him a flight out of here, safe harbor in Russia, and ten million US dollars in exchange for the components. He’d hoped for more, but they’d known he was desperate.

“Y-you said you w-were my f-friend.” Sam glared at Vasily, looking like someone had just killed her puppy. “Y-you said you were P-Patty’s friend.”

“Aw, poor baby. Do you feel betrayed?” Steve cupped his gloved hand over his injured cheek. “The fucking bitch stabbed me.”

Vasily leaned in, examined the wound. “That little scratch? That is nothing.”

Snap.

At first, Steve thought Vasily had punched him in the gut, a friendly jab. Then his heart started to slam in his chest, blood rising in his throat, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He looked down and watched as Vasily withdrew a stiletto switchblade from his solar plexus. “Wh-what…?”

Vasily leaned in close. “You murdered Patty, and you tried to kill Sam. You are lower than shit, a traitor to your friends and your country. You truly believed we would make a deal with you?”

Steve tried to inhale, tried to speak but couldn’t, his knees buckling as the pain hit. He collapsed onto the floor, found himself staring up at the frost-covered ceiling four stories above, his heart flailing in his chest.

He was dying.

He was going to die here on this fucking continent and lie, frozen, in the LO Arch in a body bag just like Patty. “No!”

Vasily leaned over him. “For traitors, hell is ice cold.”

Steve felt the life leave his body, the world fading to black.

Samantha stared in mute horror as one last strangled breath left Steve’s body, blood spilling from his mouth, freezing in a pool around him. She looked from Steve to Vasily, who walked back to his men.

With a smile on his face, he said something to Vlad in Russian—and then slit Vlad’s throat with one clean swipe of the blade. He wiped the blade on Vlad’s snow pants and turned to Samantha. “He overheard your men. Then he sent a text to this bastard and told him where you were. He betrayed you against my orders.”

Samantha was too terrified even to scream as Vlad fell to the floor, clutching his throat, blood spilling between his fingers.

Vasily walked over to her, making her recoil. He put the switchblade away, stripped off his parka, put it over her and Thor. “I told you I am your friend. Now I have proved myself, I think.”

Then the doors from the LO Arch flew open, and Malik and Lev rushed through, weapons raised.

“Nobody move!”

“Hands above your heads!”

Samantha gasped, raised one hand, but kept her other arm wrapped around Thor, doing her best to put pressure on his wound.

“Not you, Samantha, sweetheart.” Malik knelt beside them, reached for his station radio. “Ryan, this is Jones. Ryan, do you copy?”

“Jones, Ryan here.”

“Hardin and Vlad are dead. We’re bringing Isaksen and Samantha up in the freight elevator. They’re both in bad shape. Isaksen has lost a lot of blood, and both are severely hypothermic.”

“EMS is responding, out.”

“Thor?” He lay still in Samantha’s arms. “Stay alive. Please, stay alive. Help him. Malik, please!”

Thor was dying. He was bleeding to death.

While Lev disarmed the Russians, Malik felt for Thor’s pulse. “His pulse is weak and thready. We’ve got to move. Help me get him into the elevator!”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Malik’s face