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“Excuse me, bro. She was my girl first. The Bonnie to my Clyde. The ketchup on my fries. The jelly in my donut. You’ll take her over my dead fucking corpse.”
We are sort of like Bonnie and Clyde.
“That can be arranged,” Dmitri snaps in an agitated voice.
A Russian guard ambushes the front of the stage to tackle Garrix down, but before he can get too close, Garrix shoots his kneecaps out. He falls to the floor with an anguished cry, before Garrix shoots him again in the chest. I can feel everyone’s nerves going from zero to a hundred.
“Wow, some of you mobsters are dumb as fucking bricks,” he guffaws. His voice is deep, with a delicious rasp that’s drenching my panties. He sounds cocky as fuck, and I’m loving the whole evil villain vibe he’s giving off.
“Tell your soldiers to drop their weapons now. You’re outnumbered!” Franco shouts from across the church. He lowers his plain black eye mask.
“This is only going to go one way, Dmitri. You sealed your fate the day you decided to terrorize my woman,” Garrix growls.
“If you and your band of thugs don’t get the fuck out of this church, you’ll regret it,” Dmitri replies. He really believes himself. He thinks he stands a chance.
In our world, a crazy fuck like Garrix Cameron doesn’t live long enough to get a few cute little gray hairs in his beard without being smarter than your average criminal. I know he has a plan, I just can’t figure out what it is yet.
“Little Killer, open my coat, please,” he directs me.
“I can’t wait to see how you get me out of this mess, G,” I whisper in his ear. The only reply I get is a wide grin and a wink. He’s such an attention whore. But who am I kidding… I like it.
I smooth down his trench coat lapels, trying to hide my smirk—he has finesse. Who else would be ballsy enough to walk into the middle of a church filled with Russians for a rescue mission dressed like this?
Get it together, Mads. I’m supposed to be scared for my life right now, not drooling.
When I undo the buttons and open Garrix’s coat for the crowd, everyone gasps. Franco’s face twists in surprise, then pure rage. I don’t think Garrix let him in on this secret. Dmitri's face turns pale white. Garrix is wearing a live bomb strapped over a sleek, black tuxedo. It has multiple wires and the red flashy numbers are counting down from ten minutes. They match the red rose in his boutonnière.
He bends down, so his mouth is right near my ear. Nipping at the shell, he whispers, “I picked out a Gucci tux, so I fit in with my new Italian mafioso family. Don’t worry baby, we’re gonna be fine.” He straightens up to face the room again. “Oh, you all brought guns to this? I brought a fucking BOMB, bitches! And I promise you I have no issues blowing this entire fucking place and everyone in it sky high.”
Panic sets in, and every person in the room has their weapons drawn.
“That’s for trying to whack my future father in law and stressing out my wife and her brothers. I declare the Yedinstvo enemies of The Brigade. Your time in this city is numbered. I suggest you clear out now. Any further retaliation against Nuova Notte or us is a declaration of war.”
Without warning, Garrix shoots Artyom and Dmitri with two kill shots. Their bodies fall in a heap on the floor. Some of the Russian soldiers and two of Dmitri’s older brothers leave, while others open fire. All hell breaks loose, and I’m shoved behind the altar.
“Stay here, don’t move until I tell you to. You better listen to me this time, or?—”
“I’ll lock you in my basement. Yeah, I know,” I finish for him. “Go on.”
I peek around the edge of the altar and see a bloodbath. The Russian soldiers are no match for my brother and the masked men. Fitzpatrick slams a soldier with his bat. French slices someone down with his machete. Garrix takes out a gunman hiding in the pews with deadly precision. The whole gruesome bloodbath is over in minutes. One of our men gets grazed in the shoulder, but other than that, it doesn’t seem like anyone from our side is injured.
“You okay?” he asks me as he retrieves me from my cover spot.
“Yeah, I’m okay. You called me your wife earlier, but we’re not married, G,” I remind him.
He gets down on one knee before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black velvet box. Inside is a beautiful oval diamond surrounded by black diamonds, burgundy garnets, and rubies.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, he’s proposing. I scream and shove my cuffed hands at him. He starts laughing as he delicately places the ring on my finger.
“I know we haven’t known each other long, and I planned on doing this in a week or two, so I didn’t freak you out. But given the circumstances, I’m not letting you slip through my fingers a second time.” His intense gaze blazes bright.
“You deserve the best ring. I saw this while on a job in Europe. Funny how I didn’t know you back then, but knew it would be the perfect ring for my future wife.” The ring fits perfectly on my finger and I marvel at how beautiful and intricate it is.
Garrix swings his gun at the priest. “You can marry us now. We want something a little more heartfelt than what Dmitri had planned. Pick up after the objections. We’d rather skip that part.”
His voice leaves no room for protest. The priest stares at the bomb, his eyes wide with fear. Garrix points to its blinking red clock. We only have three minutes left on the countdown.
“Do y-you…ummmm…” he stutters.
