Lethal Consequences Read Online Free PDF Page A

sure she’s fine. Or will be.”
    Fear pumped through his veins, and his pulse ticked up. A fear he’d never felt—not even when an op went to shit—because he’d never had anything to lose.
    His gaze shot to the chair where he’d left his jacket and his Sig. Both were missing. His focus snapped back to her. The lift of her brows said she knew exactly what he was thinking.
    “Sit down, Landon Miller.” She pointed to a chair with the knife. “We have much to discuss.”
    She knew his full name. He’d only given her his first in the bar. His mind ran back to the edge of the tattoo he’d seen on her shoulder in the elevator. This wasn’t a random hookup. He was her mark, and he’d fallen into every trap he’d been trained not to go near.
    Every internal alarm he had screamed. He glanced around the room. A two-way radio sat on the small table next to the couch.
    He needed to get to Olivia, but first he needed to make sure this woman—whoever she was—couldn’t follow. Cautiously, he moved toward the side, watching her movements from the corner of his vision. A foot from the chair, he grabbed the base of a lamp, yanked it from the wall and end table, and hurled it across the room toward her.
    She ducked out of the way. The lamp crashed against the far wall. A whir cut through the air, and Landon leaned to the side, just barely avoiding being stuck like a pig.
    “You want to play?” Chantal said in an amused tone. “I can play.”
    Another whir echoed. Landon shifted the other direction. The blade cut through the air, nicking his right temple.
    He grabbed the end table and flung it toward her. The wood smacked into her body, knocking her backward. She grunted, hit the floor with a crack, and tumbled across the carpet. Spotting one of the many knives she’d hurled at him on the floor, he lunged for it. She growled and charged. Her bare foot connected with his hand before he could throw it back at her, sending the knife flying. She landed another roundhouse kick to his ribs. Pain spiraled across his side, and he dropped to one knee. The next kick sent pain echoing across the side of his face.
    “I needed a good workout,” she gritted as she kicked out again. But before she could make contact, Landon caught her foot, twisted her leg, and flung her across the room.
    She hit the couch with a grunt. The piece of furniture tipped over, the back cracking against the floor.
    Swiping at the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, Landon pushed to his feet and looked toward the upended couch. Son of a bitch, he didn’t have time for this. The woman clearly didn’t want him dead. If she did, she’d have used a gun and just shot him. That meant she was toying with him. Whatever mental hang-up he had about kicking the crap out of a woman, he had to get over it.
    Chantal lurched to her feet, tugged the hem of her dress up, and pulled another knife from a holster at her thigh. Her red hair was a wild mess around her face, and her dark eyes were wide and on fire. She gripped the knife tightly in her hand as she stared at him, her gaze as piercing as her blade. Whoever she worked for and whatever this was about, it was personal to her.
    He held up both fists, ready to arc out as soon as she came at him. “Think about this,” he said calmly. “You can live or you can die, but I’m not someone you want to mess with.”
    Chantal chuckled, a dark, menacing sound, then charged. Stepping on the seat of the couch, she used her body weight to right the upended sofa and propel herself forward. Landon waited until she got close, swung out with his arm, and knocked the weapon from her hand. It skittered across the floor. She threw her body toward him, stronger than she looked, knocking him to the ground. He managed to hook a leg around her waist and flip her off him.
    She scrambled to her feet, swiped at the blood on her lip, looked down, and sneered. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Landon Miller.”
    She lurched