Sea Haven 02 - Spirit Bound

new one. A soft sound penetrated the thick layer of fog. Muffled. Stealthy. Found material that could have been a sleeping bag. Jonas’s voice.
    Instincts shouting to be heard, Stefan shoved Judith and Inez backward hard enough for them to fall to the sidewalk in a heap, even as he flung his body into the small opening between the two buildings. The sound of a gunshot was loud, reverberating through the narrow passageway. Far away, he heard yelling, a high-pitched scream, even as something smashed into his chest, driving him backward. He refused to go down, refused to black out, refused to let panic take him when he couldn’t breathe. He dug his heels in, and dove forward, tackling Old Bill.

19
     
    STEFAN and Ivanov crashed together, the sound of their bodies like a clap of thunder there in the tiny alley. Stefan’s chest burned like hell. It felt as though he’d been hit with a train, but the only thing that mattered, the one thing he focused on, was keeping Ivanov’s gun from firing toward Judith. He managed to catch Ivanov’s gun hand and apply pressure backward against his wrist. Even as he did, the assassin whipped up his left hand, the razor-sharp knife rushing toward Stefan’s neck.
    Judith scrambled to her feet, yelling frantically for Jonas, rushing toward the two struggling men. The only weapon she had was her oversized purse and she smashed Ivanov over the head as the two men grappled for the weapons.
    Stefan clamped down like a vise on Ivanov’s left hand, driving him backward and away from Judith. The two men crashed into the side of the building so hard the building shook. Both grunted, Stefan bringing up his knee to take the exterminator down to the ground. Ivanov’s breath left his body in a whoosh of air, and he went down, but his grip on both weapons remained vise-like.
    “Out of the way, out of the way,” Jonas commanded. “Judith, get out of there.” He reached out and physically removed her by yanking her away from the two men struggling in the close confines of the two buildings.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Stefan could see the sheriff, gun drawn, trying to get a shot at Ivanov. Deliberately, he tightened his grip on the killer.
    “Get off me. Are you crazy?” Playing the part of the innocent American businessman struggling for his life required a little drama.
    He smashed Ivanov’s gun hand into the ground while retaining an unshakable grip on the knife hand. He used a burst of strength, turning the knife toward Ivanov’s chest even as he writhed as if Ivanov was getting the better of him, forcing the killer to roll over and sprawl on top of him, giving the sheriff a target. Using the thick fog for cover, he grunted a lot, repeated his plea for Ivanov to get off of him and forced the gun hand to turn slowly, relentlessly in the direction of his own head.
    “Drop your weapon,” Jonas said. “I’m a sheriff and I’m giving you an order.”
    Ivanov broke out in a sweat, making him slippery, breathing his vengeful hatred into Stefan’s face. Stefan had him in a death grip, fingers digging into tendons and pressure points, fully controlling Ivanov’s actions.
    “Drop the gun,” Jonas commanded, stepping closer. “Drop it now.”
    Stefan renewed his grip on the knife, forcing it closer to Ivanov’s chest under cover of the struggling killer’s body and the thick mist. They stared into each other’s eyes, Ivanov recognizing Stefan’s superior physical strength. His eyes widened in horror, in the recognition that he was about to die. He could try to surrender to the sheriff, but the grip on his gun hand, turning the weapon on Stefan would preclude any talk.
    “Damn it, drop the weapon,” Jonas said, resolve already creeping into his voice.
    Deliberately Stefan turned his head to look at the gun slowly turning toward him, forcing a look of fear onto his face. He shoved the knife upward into Ivanov’s heart simultaneously as the sheriff’s shot rang out. Blood and brain splattered across his head and shoulders. Ivanov’s body slumped heavily over him.
    Stefan shoved Ivanov to one side and lay there, breathing hard. Judith ran to him in spite of Jonas’s restraining hand and biting command. Wedged between her, the building and the killer, Stefan used the cover of her body and the fog to transfer his knives and gun into her oversized bag, one careful move at a time, all the while making a good show of gasping for breath and seeming to pat himself down for wounds.