Blood Price (8 page)

She expected him to run all the way to the door leading to the first-floor lobby but he exited on the second floor. No one occupied the hallway, so there was no one to betray their presence. He lowered her to her feet and closed the door quietly before pulling her out of sight of the glass window in the door. “Shh,” he whispered against her ear.

Tucked against him, holding a pair of hotel slippers in her hands and dressed only in a white terrycloth robe, she felt surprisingly safe. Nikia held her breath as the footsteps neared, praying the men would bypass the second floor. Every nerve ending in her body sizzled with tension as they ran by, not even slowing on the second-floor landing.

She sagged with relief and Atar’s arms fell away. Nikia paused to slide her feet into the thin slippers and then followed Atar down the hall. “What are we doing?” she whispered.

“Looking.”

She frowned. “For what?”

He didn’t answer. His attention remained focused on a partially opened door. He approached silently, as if expecting trouble. Nikia stayed behind him, not because she was timid but because she wasn’t dressed.

“Excuse me.”

His voice broke the edgy silence, making Nikia jump. She peered around his shoulder and saw a maid standing by the doorway, holding a duster. The middle-aged woman wore an expression of surprise but there was a gleam of appreciation in her eyes for Atar’s form.

She said something in Czech, causing Atar to shake his head. “Do you speak English?”

“Little, sir.”

His smile broadcast encouragement. Nikia’s mouth twisted. Maybe a little something else, too. Did he have to exude sex appeal to every woman he met?

“Is there a back way out of the hotel? An employee entrance?”

She nodded, still grasping the duster. Atar reached into his pocket, removing a folded bill. When he extended it, Nikia saw it was €100. “Can you show us?”

The money disappeared from his hand as soon as he offered it. She tucked it into her pocket and slipped past Atar, deliberately brushing her large bosom against his chest, Nikia noted with narrowed eyes. She pointed down the hall. “Way…me follow.” She bustled down the hall, sorting through a ring of keys attached by a clip to her apron belt. At a door marked with a sign in Czech, she turned around, waving to them. “Hurry.”

Nikia stayed close to Atar as the woman unlocked the door and led them inside. At first glance, it was nothing more than a linen closet. Either the woman hadn’t understood what they wanted or she had decided Atar was an easy way to make €100.

The maid went to a stack of folded white uniforms, sorting through them. She eyed Nikia once before returning to the pile. Finally, she extracted one and tossed it to Nikia, saying something in Czech. Then she motioned to the other side of the room, to a door that wasn’t immediately obvious.

Revising her opinion of the woman, Nikia tucked the white jumpsuit under her arm and followed the maid to the door, with Atar right behind her. The woman unlocked this one too and waved them through. Nikia hesitated, not sure where the woman had led them. The thought of entering a busy area in just a robe was daunting.

Atar brushed past her, apparently deciding to lead. The maid put her hand on his arm when he stepped by her. She pointed out the door and to the left. “Follow stairs down.
Vlevo
…” She waved her hand more vigorously. “
Vlevo
,” she said again, frustration evident in her tone.

“Turn left?” Nikia asked.

Her flailing hand calmed and the older woman nodded. “
Vlevo
…left.” She beamed at Nikia before turning away, clearly returning to work.

With flagging courage, Nikia followed Atar through the doorway, bracing herself for any possibility. They found the stairs easily. With caution, Atar descended first. She was content to remain behind him, hoping his muscled frame would provide some cover for her robe-clad body. As they neared the landing, the bustle of voices and activity reached them.

Nikia’s face burned with heat when they entered the kitchen. The people who had been rushing around just a second ago all froze, with their eyes focused squarely on her. She remained rooted to the spot, unable to get her feet to move.

“Walk like a princess,” Atar said from the corner of his mouth, giving her a saucy wink.His words spurred her on, letting her feet move. She straightened her spine and tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone as they hurried through the kitchen. At any moment, she expected someone to stop them and question their presence but they passed through the large room without interruption. As they slipped through a wooden door leading into the alley, the sound of laughter and raised voices resumed behind them.

“That wasn’t so difficult, right?”

She shot Atar a disbelieving look. “Oh, not at all.” The uniform under her arm wasn’t
haute
couture
but she couldn’t wait to trade the robe for it. Unfortunately, an alley facing a busy street didn’t seem like the best place to change clothes. “What do we do now?”

“The sun is setting, so we need to find somewhere to hide for the night. Our flight leaves in the morning. We just need to catch it.” He slanted a look at her before scanning the cobblestone street where bicycles, pedestrians and cars intermingled. “You must have really angered someone. Who are the men chasing us?”

“I don’t know. I thought they were with you, until they shot their way into our hotel room.”

His brows arched. “With me?”

She shrugged. “Your backup or something. Maybe Anca sent them.” The thumping in her head increased just thinking about the possibility. How could she evade Atar
and
another team?

Atar scratched his cheek, where stubbles of blondish-brown hairs were forming. “She didn’t mention anything about sending more men when I spoke to her earlier.”

Nikia experienced a pang, remembering Atar’s side of the conversation and the reminder that he didn’t trust her. Her shoulders sagged. “I don’t know what’s going on here.”

Before pointing to the dead-end of the alley, he made a low sound in his throat that could have meant anything. “You can change behind the Dumpster.”

She looked at the container, filled to the top of the opened lid. The smell was overpowering from several feet away. She couldn’t imagine how bad it would be standing behind the bin. Well, at least no one was likely to be around it to see her changing. Together, they hurried to the trash bin. Gagging on the stench, Nikia shed the robe and slipped on the white pantsuit as fast as possible, finding the worn cotton soft against areas normally covered by underwear, instead of abrasive as she might have imagined. She left the robe on the filthy stones.

When she was finished, she stepped around Atar, who had blocked the view from the street with his body. She froze when he grasped her wrist, convinced he had seen the men chasing them. Instead, he was only taking the precaution of securing the open side of the cuffs to his wrist, binding them together. She didn’t protest. What could she say? That his lack of trust cut her to the core? He didn’t want to hear that, and she wasn’t going to reveal the depths of her vulnerability. Better to be confined than have him know how easily he could hurt her. “Now what?”

He hesitated for a moment, scanning the alley and the street. Then he pointed to a white car stopping to let a group of pedestrians cross the cobblestone street. “There’s a FIX car and the light is on. We need to flag it down before those men catch up with us.”

“What will we do then?” Nikia panted as she ran a step behind him, feeling the constant tug of the cuff on her wrist as he kept up a pace she couldn’t quite match. Each thud of her feet landing increased the throbbing in her head, until she was gritting her teeth to continue, forcing her body to ignore the pain and the whispery voice of Illiana creeping into the back of her mind.

“I have no idea. We’re thinking on our feet.”

That wasn’t reassuring and she guessed he didn’t mean it to be, judging from the worried tone that he used to deliver the succinct reply. She wanted to rail at him, demand to know why he didn’t have an answer, since he always seemed in control. But she couldn’t castigate him, since she couldn’t think straight either. Even if another migraine hadn’t been building, she didn’t think she could have focused on anything beyond the slap of the slippers against the stone as they rushed to the car.

They reached it just as a shout sounded behind them. Nikia turned her head before Atar dragged her in the car, seeing two of the three men bursting from the kitchen entrance, as the third man rounded the corner from the front entry of the hotel. The two exiting the employee door quickly stuffed pistols in their jackets, even as they ran toward the car.

“Drive,” Atar urged the man.

“Where?”

“The Powder Tower.”

As the car moved forward, the driver easing around the last cluster of pedestrians, Nikia watched the three men in suits come to a sudden halt, standing close to confer. Their postures suggested a marked lack of worry, which increased hers tenfold. Did their pursuers somehow guess where they were going?

A chill settled at the base of Nikia’s skull and she turned to look at their driver. He was studiously avoiding making eye contact, as he turned left on a street with a name she couldn’t begin to pronounce. He wore a suit jacket and his hair was carefully groomed. The driver’s broad shoulders suggested he spent a lot of time working out. He didn’t have the frame one would associate with an occupation requiring long periods of sitting.

In addition to all that, he gave Nikia the same shiver the last driver had. She leaned closer to Atar, who seemed deep in thought. “He’s one of them,” she whispered close to his ear.

He jerked, looking down at her. “What?” he mouthed.

“The driver is one of them. I can sense it.”

To her complete surprise, Atar didn’t question her judgment this time. He leaned forward, seeming relaxed but Nikia saw the way his clenched fists lay in his lap.

“We’ve changed our mind. You can let us out here.”

The driver didn’t turn back to them or try to meet Atar’s eyes in the mirror. “We are nearly there, sir. You can see the round tower from here.” His accent wasn’t Czech. It sounded more like German or French, although Nikia couldn’t place it definitely.

“We’ll walk. It’s a nice evening.” His smile was charming, not giving the driver even a hint he was suspicious. “Besides, don’t the tours end at five? There’s no point going today.”

The driver shrugged. “As you wish, sir.”

Nikia questioned her senses when the driver turned on his signal and eased to the curb. Could Illiana be deliberately misleading her in hopes of keeping her off-guard? She swallowed thickly, wondering if somehow Illiana had engaged these men. Had her mother gained control long enough to make a phone call or contact them by other means? She turned to Atar to voice her fear but the movements of the driver in her peripheral vision froze the words in her throat.

She turned back to him in time to see the man taking a gun from his pocket and aiming it toward them. She launched herself forward, seeking to deflect the large-bore barrel. He fired before she reached him and she realized two things: Atar was the target and it was a tranquilizer gun, not a pistol.

Atar’s breath hissed between his teeth as Nikia’s hands settled around the man’s neck. She felt the pull of Atar’s wrist connected to hers but ignored the sensation. Animal instinct took over and she tightened her hands, making it impossible for the driver to move, let alone reposition his gun for another shot.

His neck tipped to the side as he feebly tried to break her hold, exposing his carotid artery. A veil of red obscured her vision and she propelled herself closer, bringing her mouth to his neck. Her bloodteeth had already descended by the time she bit his neck, sucking eagerly. She spared no thought for moderation as she drank her fill. His blood was hot and tangy, satisfying her hunger.

As she drank, the bloodlust slowly departed and rational thought returned. They were in a car on a busy road, where anyone could pass by and see her drinking this man’s blood. Not only that but the men were sure to be following them. They were probably expecting a call from the driver or had been following in their own vehicle. Either way, they couldn’t be far behind.

Most importantly, she hadn’t heard a peep from Atar. What if the dart had done more than put him to sleep? With his physiology, it might have poisoned him.

She tore her mouth from the man’s throat, eliciting a moan from him before he returned to unconsciousness. Turning back to Atar, she felt his neck, finding a slow but steady pulse. The drug had induced a deep sleep but he didn’t seem in imminent danger of dying.

She fumbled in his pocket for the key to the cuffs. Her heart jumped when she brushed against his cock but she forced away the reaction, knowing this wasn’t the time. She retrieved the key and unlocked the cuffs from her wrist and then his. Holding the cuffs, she reached for the handle. This was her chance to escape Atar. It was obvious he was the target of the men, whether he believed that or not. He wouldn’t find her this time, not while dealing with them.

She hesitated, torn between knowing this was probably her only chance and fearing what would happen to Atar if the men caught him. Logically, she knew she owed him nothing. Despite the attraction burning between them, he still intended to deliver her to a possible death sentence. Who would blame her for leaving him to a similar fate?