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“On three,” I murmured, then held up three fingers as I braced myself for the firefight. Matteo and Cristo both nodded, all three of us taking aim with practiced ease. I lowered one finger, and then another, and then…
It was almost too easy.
We popped up in unison. Took aim.
The idiots hadn’t even taken cover.
All three of them dropped under our precise assault, their lifeless bodies crumpling to the ground.
What was Moretti thinking? That he could just waltz in here and kill me as if he was bulletproof?
The echo of the last gunshot still hung in the air when I turned around to check on Cristo and Matteo.
And my heart stopped.
I’d expected to see Fee long gone. Hadn’t even looked for her. But instead of following my orders, I found her crouched slightly off to the side, a massive kitchen knife clutched in her hand, with determined eyes fully focused.
My heart started to beat again, then raced, and frustration boiled within me; she should have been out of harm’s way by now.
“Fee,” I growled, leapt over to her, snatched the knife from her grasp, and threw it on the floor. “I told you to get out of here.”
The club fell silent—someone had finally stopped the music.
I grabbed her and pressed her to my side, then surveyed the damage, gun still raised in case there was a second wave coming.
But all remained silent.
“Matteo, secure the premises; Cristo, get this cleaned up, and make sure the wounded are treated,” I barked, my gaze lingering on the three men for a second, adrenaline still coursing through my veins.
“And you’re coming with me.” I dragged her with me, barely containing the white-hot rage burning through my body.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Alex, let go!” Fee snapped as we reached the office. I slammed the door shut behind us, my hand still gripping her arm.
“Shut up and listen,” I said, anger flooding my voice. “If I tell you to do something, you sure as shit better do it!”
“Fuck you and your God complex,” she spat back, her green eyes blazing with defiance. “I’m not some helpless damsel in need of protection. Stop bossing me around. I’m a fighter, not a coward.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Fighter or not, you’re not bulletproof. And if I fucking tell you to leave, you better listen and follow my command,” I growled directly in her face.
“Or what?” She didn’t back down; instead, she defied me with blazing eyes.
And my fury got the better of me. I pushed her against the door, my hand flying to her neck, squeezing. I was done with her defiance, done with her brattiness. There was strong, and there was stupid.
And Fee had just crossed the line.
But she didn’t cower; instead, her gaze remained locked on mine, filled with fire and determination.
“Get your hands off me,” she choked out.
And something inside of me snapped. But instead of killing her, instead of squeezing tighter, I crashed my lips down onto hers in a fierce, punishing, bruising kiss.
All of my anger, all of my frustration I put in there, and instead of backing down, she met my tongue stroke for stroke with hers in a dangerous battle.
It was wild, hot, feverish, and unlike any kiss I’d ever experienced.
And then she bit my lower lip—hard—and catapulted me out of my current state. As if she’d doused cold water on my flame, my anger subsided.
