Knocked Up By the Russian Boss by Bella King

Chapter 44

MAXIM

The hallways in this house all look the fucking same. For as many virtual tours of this house as I’ve had, I feel completely disoriented now that I’m here.

It would be easy to just say fuck it, leave without Ivory, and hide out in one of my other houses for the rest of the year until this drama blows over. But without having gained something from my visit here, I will have just wasted a massive amount of time and resources just to get a college student knocked up and piss off her extremely influential family.

I come across a room that looks vaguely familiar, likely one that I had taken note of in the time I spent studying the layout of the house. When I enter, I’m relieved to find that I practically stumbled into Steven’s home office with almost no issue.

The computer is still on, and all I have to do is try to break in and download the relevant information before I deploy my emergency signal and get the fuck out of here.

Of course, it’s password protected. This man isn’t an idiot. All of my attempts at a password are in vain. Had I learned more basic information about Ivory and her family, I probably could have cracked it.

But here I am, no more guesses in me, ready to say fuck it and tear out the hard drive and take it with me.

Once I’ve extracted the hard drive, I type in the code to the emergency response feature of my smartwatch, and I know that Joey or Emery will be here in a matter of minutes.

Before I can leave, though, I need to make sure I’m not compromised in any way. Walking in here with no weapons was a massive risk, probably something I could have circumvented if I had just been willing to think a little harder.

The large oak desk is padlocked closed. Since I’ve determined that Steven is not, in fact, an idiot, I’m positive he must have some kind of weapon in his office.

There’s no obvious hiding spot for a key to the lock, and I know better than to go looking for it when alternative means exist. And by “alternative means,” I mean the massive, obnoxious paperweight sitting on the desk next to the computer monitor.

I grab it and smash it repeatedly into the lock like a caveman.

After six or seven blows, the lock crumbles, and I open the drawer to find a revolver. I check the chamber, and there are rounds already loaded. As long as I can stay aware of my surroundings until I’m notified of my getaway car approaching, I’m set.

My bones are vibrating as adrenaline courses through my blood. Adrenaline is a strange chemical to me. It makes you hyper-aware, makes your heart beat so fast that you can hardly see, and then makes you feel like you’re going to die. I’ve never understood how these functions are supposed to be conducive to saving an individual’s life despite how many times it likely has contributed to my survival.

I’m ready to exit the room, gun drawn, when I hear Ivory scream from across the house. Momentarily paralyzed, I listen closely to determine whether or not she is static or moving toward me.

Initially, I don’t hear any noise, so I proceed cautiously from the office, maintaining close proximity to the wall in case I need to minimize myself from someone’s line of sight.

A guard I hadn’t seen upon entering the estate turns a corner hastily, and I’m instantly in his line of fire. He pulls his gun on me and shoots twice, just barely missing both times. I fire at him once, but the sudden quick motion has disoriented me from my previously hyper-focused state, and I miss him as well. He’s close enough that I’m able to manually disarm him rather easily as if he’s never actually experienced a hand-to-hand fight before.

He’s quick, though, and he takes advantage of the space on my face and chest that I’ve left vulnerable to attack in my half-assed attempt to subdue him. He punches me twice in the jaw, temporarily dizzying me to the point that I wonder if I’ll be able to see straight again within the hour.

Fortunately, he’s only gotten some cheap shots in because of my carelessness, not his skill.

I kick him in the chest, and he flies back, totally stunned at my recoil. I run at him and tackle him while he’s destabilized, putting us both flat on the ground as I climb on top of him to finish the job.

Having only one hand free to fight with puts me at a huge disadvantage even if I do have a gun, because this guy is almost pound-for-pound exactly like me. Whenever I get the fleeting opportunity to aim and fire at him, he’s able to damn near knock me to the floor, putting me in the opposite position and guaranteeing my imminent death.

At the back of my mind, I’m pleading with Joey and Emery to just get here so we can leave, but I know I can’t leave without Ivory, especially not since she’s clearly in danger herself. Thinking about her safety being compromised gives me a renewed sense of righteous anger, and I find myself pounding the fuck out of the guard’s face mercilessly with my one free hand.

When he’s finally had enough, I point the revolver at his face and shoot three times.

Just when I think I’m in the clear, someone else tackles me from behind just as I’m picking myself up from off this dead man’s body. I’m slammed into the nearest wall at breakneck speeds, and if I’d had enough time to think with more than an eighteenth of my brain, I would be impressed at this person’s tenacity and training.

At first, I’m unable to turn around at all and visualize my assailant, but eventually, I’m able to struggle enough against him to wear him out and get a good look at him. I still have my revolver, and I’m not letting go of it no matter what he does to me, so I know I’m at least an equal opponent to him.

I turn to look at him, and he kicks me in the knees, sending me back to the floor as he jumps on my back.

After a brief moment of panic, I’m able to push myself off the ground with this guard on my back, and I swing him into the wall nearest to me, crushing his shoulder. I’ve thrown him off, and I turn around and land three decent punches on his jaw before he’s able to swing back at me.

He almost misses, but I’m not quick enough to avoid the blow, and he hits me right in the temple.

My adrenaline is running so high that I feel like I could have a fucking stroke. With the blow to the head, I’m seeing red, more than willing to annihilate this asshole and protect Ivory.

I grab him by both shoulders and slam him into the wall, taking a fistful of his hair into my hand and crashing his head through the drywall. I smash his face into the wall over and over, and each time I pull him away, he looks less and less human and more like a disfigured meat puppet.

When I can feel his legs start to give, I know that it’s time for me to move on and run to Ivory. I only heard her scream once, so she’s either incapacitated, dead, or she was just spooked by something.

The latter option seems the least likely, and I sprint down the hallway to find her.