Snakebite: Alpha Squad Book 1

Chapter 2

Typical hotel room. King bed. TV. Side table. Bathroom. I caught all that as a set of ham-sized hands wrapped around my jacket and tossed me against the wall in the small doorway. Alekandrov sidestepped us, allowing the heavy door to slam shut behind him.

The man holding me let go but stayed threateningly close. He wore a black t-shirt, his large muscles almost tearing the fabric. He'd put either a bunch of hours in at the gym or lots of steroids in his ass.

Two other men stood farther back in the room. They were smaller than Muscles, but still imposing. One had shaggy brown hair, and the other had super-short, white-blond spikes.

All eyes in the room watched me. Shaggy gave me an arrogant smirk, as if he could already see my body beaten and broken, sprawled out on the hotel room floor.

Cobra had failed to mention Alekandrov's bodyguards. I'd like to assume he didn't know, but the General had tricky tendencies. Maybe he wanted to test me. Or he wanted me to fail. With Cobra, both options seemed plausible. If, on the off-chance, he wasn't acting like a royal dickhead, our informant had slipped. It was hard to miss a group of overly muscled thugs.

Whatever the case, due to the oversight, I'd gotten myself into quite a pickle. The four-to-one ratio didn't feel so hot. Things might not end well. I couldn't confirm which one of us had the bigger problem here, them or me.

I'd hoped for a little verbal encouragement from my squad, but, not surprisingly, my earpiece remained quiet. Cobra had issued an order for radio silence while I dealt with Alekandrov, and apparently they weren't breaking that shit for anything.

But I sure was.

"Bananas," I blurted out to no one in particular. It was our squad's code for Get your asses in here, I need help. Now! Yup, bananas. Wolfe picked that one out. Now Alekandrov and his guards stared at me, mouths hanging open, as if I'd gone fucking bananas.

After a few stunned beats, Muscles said something in Russian to Alekandrov, who looked away from me to answer him. Bad move. Never take your eyes off the prize, or in my case, the armed soldier.

I grabbed Alekandrov by his arm and threw him forward. He stumbled, tripping on his own feet before collapsing into Shaggy and Blondie. He let out another girlish shriek at the impact. Blondie caught him and pushed him aside, where he fell to the floor.

Muscles took that moment to charge. Kicking out, I hit him in the knee before he could grab me. He paused, giving me enough time to get another kick in. I connected with his nuts.

That got his attention. He staggered for a few seconds, but soon regained his focus and reached out for me.

Bending down out of his grasp, I rooted around for one of the knives I'd stashed in my boot. My fingers grazed the handle as one of his huge, meaty hands wrapped around my throat. With a tug, he jerked me to my feet.

I hit him with a quick jab to the throat, causing him to suck in a strangled breath. Lifting my foot, I snatched my blade. I brought my hand up and slashed a horizontal line straight across his throat. Carotid to carotid.

Letting go of me, he stumbled backward into the wall, clutching his neck. I took a step forward and plunged the knife into his stomach, straight to the hilt.

He collapsed, sliding down against the wall. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the green carpet, giving it a new, black stain. As I stepped over him, I heard the sound of blood gurgling out of his throat as he choked on it. I ignored him. Between the open wound in his neck and the blood pouring from his gut, he'd bleed out in seconds.

An eerie silence fell across the room as the other men stared at their fallen comrade. When Muscles finally let out his last gargled breath, all eyes snapped to me.