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He scoffs. "I don't have to frame anyone. Do you know how powerful my organization is in this region?" He waves his arms around the room. “Why would I need to frame them? They have nothing I want."
"That's what I’ve been trying to figure out." I take a step forward, his henchman raising their rifles and pointing them at me. "On the surface, it seems plausible for the Russians to want to eliminate the person helping you advertise your illegal dealings. But after a while, that didn't make sense when you look at the bigger picture. Because the same way you hired Morgan to advertise for you is the same way they could've hired an influencer to do the same thing."
"What's your point, pig?" he snaps, impatience flaring in his eyes.
I grin. "I went digging a little further. Went to see how you found Morgan to begin with. Looks like you tried to do a different kind of business with her father a year ago, trying to turn one of his hotels into a whore house to wash your dirtycash in, but he wouldn't sell. In fact, he blocked you from being able to purchase any property in that section of town by buying all of the available properties and donating them to charity organizations to be repurposed. And you couldn't have that, could you?"
His jaw flexes as he stares at me, and I know I've struck a nerve. Once Natalie and I dug a little deeper into the Rosario family and their connection to Morgan, it was revealed that her family had been on Christian’s radar for a while now.
His original plan was to try to rope Morgan's father into some sick partnership that allowed the Rosario family to use a few of his hotels to wash money through, as well as creating an underground brothel beneath it in order to have local trafficking income. After her father refused and prevented him from getting any other property in the prime real estate area downtown, he set forth to take the property by force. But first, he was determined to make her father suffer a little.
He'd targeted Morgan and made it appear as if it was simply a competitor trying to take out another competitor. Had the hit been successful, Christian would've eliminated the only heiress of the Thomson estate and then would’ve killed her father before finding a way to try to seize the companies once the estate fell into the hands of the state.
Christian slowly claps his hands as a smirk tilts his mouth up. "Bravo, Sherlock," he says sarcastically. "You've solved the case. But the problem is that you weren't hired to solve a case. You were hired to carry out a hit, and you failed." He shrugs. "And now you and your entire organization will pay for this fuckup, starting with you."
He snaps his fingers and the door opens, two men pulling Morgan into the room. She pulls against them, her eyes widening when they land on me. Anger flushes my skin as I take in her naked body. Light bruises appear on her arms and cheek,and everything in me wants to put a bullet in the heads of every bastard who put a hand on her.
"I've been watching you for a good bit, you know." He rises from his seat and walks around the desk to where Morgan stands. "And at first, I was trying to figure out how I would make you pay for ruining my plan with your unnecessary meddling." He takes a lock of Morgan's hair and twirls it around his finger, grinning when she pulls away from him. "But then I noticed your little attachment to your target. So now you're going to watch me fuck her before I kill her, and then I'll deal with you."
"I don't think so," I grind out. All hell breaks loose as I drive my elbow up into the throat of the armed henchman behind me, relieving him of his weapon before shooting him twice in the chest. Morgan screams as bullets fly in all directions, and suddenly, I don't see her anymore. I focus on taking down the men around me, bullets sounding from outside of the office. I grin to myself as my earpiece comes to life in my ear as the heavily armed SWAT team I've brought storms the building.
"Found more girls in the cellar, Lone Wolf," someone said in my earpiece. "Going to clear the rest of the building before bringing them out."
"Affirmative," I say, pointing my gun at Christian, who now points a gun at me. Morgan is crouched on the ground under a nearby table, her eyes bouncing between Christian and me. His nostrils flare as he glares at me, his finger flexing on the trigger. "You can surrender easily, or I can kill you—for real this time. Your choice."
"Only a coward surrenders," he growls and pulls the trigger. The bullet whizzes a mere centimeter from my face as I dive behind the nearby chaise lounge. He continues firing a few bullets that sink into the cushion of the couch, only stopping long enough to reload. I take the opportunity to advance, firing a few bullets that hit him in the thigh and his side. He staggers abit, falling against his desk as he fires twice, both bullets hitting me in the chest.
“Trent!” Morgan screams as I fall to the ground.
Christian hobbles over to me, hovering over me as he points the gun at my head. "You had one job, and you couldn't even manage to do that right,” he pants, unsteady on his feet. “Lucky for you, you can't fail at dying."
“I don’t plan on dying today,” I growl, raising my gun.
“No!”
Morgan’s scream is the last thing I hear as we fire our guns at the same time, and everything falls silent.
24
MORGAN
Nothing happens for what feels like an eternity.
I hold my breath as I stare at the scene before me with wide eyes. Both men are still in the same positions, their guns pointing at each other despite firing at the same time. I watch in horror as the mob boss's eyes went blank before he crumpled to the ground like a sack of bricks, blood pooling out of the single bullet wound in his forehead. Trent drops his arm as he pants, closing his eyes.
I quickly scurry over to him, frantically checking over him to see how I can help. But as I observe him, I can't find where he's been shot. There's no blood anywhere on him other than the little bits of splatter he'd gotten when killing the others.
"Are you okay?" I ask, tears filling my eyes. "Where are you hurt?"
He blows out a breath and forces himself to sit up, lifting his shirt to show me the bulletproof vest he wore. "I'm fine," he says as the gunfire continues outside of the room.
"Oh thank god," I breathe, wrapping my arms around his neck. His gaze sweeps over my naked body after he pries me off him, reminding me of how exposed I am.
"We need to get out of here. It's not safe to stick around," he says. He pulls off his shirt and hands it to me, which I gratefully take. "Put this on."
I slip the T-shirt over my head, the cotton material stopping in the middle of my thighs. Trent comes over and scoops me up into his arms, carrying me away from the carnage left behind from the gunfight. I almost feel like I'm in a movie, everything moving in slow motion around me as Trent weaves through bodies down the narrow hallways. Masked men with SWAT on the back of their vests move around us, two clearing a path for Trent and me to leave.
The warm night air fills my lungs when we finally exit the building. Tears of relief slide down my cheeks as Trent carries me to his car. He puts me on my feet long enough to open the passenger door and gestures for me to get in.
