That Time in Paris, Logan Ryles [room on the broom read aloud TXT] 📗

stepped closer, glaring Ivan down as he dried his hands.

Then metal clicked against metal, and a hinge squeaked. Both Ivan and Wolfgang glanced impulsively toward the back of the room and saw Spider appear first. His face was white and sweat dripped down his cheeks as Raven walked just behind him.

Fear crossed Spider’s eyes, and Raven appeared calculative as they both saw Wolfgang and Ivan. Moments ticked by in perfect stillness as all four men processed the situation, their minds spinning for the best move in this impossible, deadly game of chess.

Then Raven jumped. He grabbed Spider by his upper arm and spun, ramming his shoulder through the fire door and hurtling outside into the darkness. Only a second later, Ivan roared like a bear and lunged toward Wolfgang as a fire alarm screamed from overhead.

10

Wolfgang slipped to the left and stuck out his right foot just in time to dodge the charging Russian and trip him up. But Ivan caught Wolfgang by the arm, and they crashed to the floor in a tangled mess of flying legs and flipping coattails.

“Charlie Three, do you copy? What’s going on?” Edric’s shouts screamed through the earpiece, but Wolfgang didn’t have a prayer of answering as he continued to roll.

Ivan landed on top, but before he could brace himself against the floor, Wolfgang delivered a rabbit punch to Ivan’s jaw and spun to the right. The Russian’s jaw crunched upward as teeth ground and splintered, then Ivan toppled. Wolfgang rammed his elbow against the floor, propelling himself up and on top, already preparing his next combo to Ivan’s face.

Wolfgang’s next punch landed squarely on Ivan’s oversized nose, flesh meeting flesh, with bony, cartilage-crunching force. Blood spurted across Wolfgang’s pressed white shirt, and he raised his fist again.

Ivan glared up with wild, crazy eyes, the grin having never left his face, and he spat blood at Wolfgang. “You punch like Polish bitch, Amerikos!” He bowed his back and rolled abruptly to the right. Wolfgang lost balance and hurtled backward, sliding across the floor and crashing into the first stall. His head snapped back against the polished marble of the stall wall with a dull crack, and his world spun. Ivan rolled to his knees, then jumped to his feet, his teeth dripping blood like a vampire as he hurtled forward.

Wolfgang was vaguely aware of the fire alarm still screaming overhead from the breached fire door, along with panicked voices and pounding feet outside the bathroom. Edric shouted in his ear again, but somehow, the only thing that mattered was the two-hundred-fifty-pound hunk of Siberia hurtling toward him like a pass rusher ready to sack the shit out of a panicking quarterback.

Wolfgang dipped to his right, ducking beneath the bottom edge of the stall wall, and then rolled under it only seconds before Ivan crashed into the marble at full force. Metal screeched, and a bracket tore loose. Wolfgang’s head lay next to the toilet, barely shielded from the collapsing marble panel that crashed into the toilet. Porcelain shattered as water sprayed across his face and Ivan continued to roar.

Wolfgang felt a shoe slam into his exposed calf, then heard the sickening click-click of a pistol being chambered.

“Where are your stones?” Ivan shouted.

Two sharp pops cracked through the tight bathroom as a silenced pistol fired into the marble wall shielding Wolfgang. He rolled and crawled his way into the next stall as shards of porcelain and flakes of marble exploded behind him. Ivan directed his fire at Wolfgang’s kicking legs, and Wolfgang felt a bullet tear through his pants, scraping his skin and barely missing his knee. He winced and jerked his leg inside the next stall as more gunshots rang out.

“This is Russian beat down!” Ivan cackled, his feet pounding around to the front of the stalls.

Wolfgang’s body was alive with adrenaline, his mind flooding with panic. He had to get to his feet. He had to find a weapon.

He rolled to his knees and slapped the lock on the stall door just in time to keep it closed under Ivan’s next blow. The Russian swore, and Wolfgang danced backward as two bullets skipped and ricocheted beneath the stall wall.

“Dance, Amerikos! Dance, if you have the stones!”

Wolfgang stumbled backward. His heels hit the toilet, and he sat down with a crash as Ivan pressed the muzzle of his pistol against the crack in the stall door and blew the lock away.

“Now I put your head in toilet and make Russian hurricane!” Ivan plowed his shoulder against the door, and it burst open.

Wolfgang twisted, reaching to his right and lifting the lid off the toilet with both hands as Ivan slid inside, gun first.

The first bullet flew wide, smacking into the wall as Wolfgang ducked and swung with the lid. The leading edge of it crashed against Ivan’s hands, hurling the gun aside as Wolfgang launched himself off the toilet. The gun clattered to the floor, and Ivan stumbled back. Wolfgang snatched the lid back, then twisted it and swung upward, piloting the corner of the lid straight into Ivan’s nose.

Cartilage collapsed, and fresh blood sprayed from Ivan’s face. He stumbled backward again, and Wolfgang pressed forward, driving him out of the stall and into the bathroom. Then Wolfgang delivered a lightning kick with his left shin, straight into Ivan’s groin.

The big man grunted and fell forward onto his knees, unable to maintain his balance.

Wolfgang brought the lid down, full force across Ivan’s skull, and said, “Where are your stones?”

The porcelain cracked as Ivan’s eyes rolled backward, then the big Russian collapsed to the floor.

Wolfgang panted, dropping the lid’s shattered half and swabbing his bloody forehead with his sleeve.

Edric’s voice was near panic. “Charlie Three! Do you copy?”

Wolfgang staggered to the sink and splashed water across his face. “I’m here, Charlie Lead . . . I’m here.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“The Russian . . .” Wolfgang wiped water from his face. “He was confrontational.”

“Not the Russian. Where’s Spider?”

Wolfgang’s heart lurched. Spider. He’d forgotten about him in the heat of