I’m a fucking idiot.
My feet stop stomping the floor boards when Justine exits the kitchen on the heels of Blaire. She stares at me in shock, stunned by the lack of color in my cheeks. “Nikolai—"
A loud ricochet rolls through Rico’s apartment, shredding my eardrums of anything but Justine’s panicked squeal.
“Get down!” I roar while diving for Justine.
I only just reach her when a big blast lights up the servants’ entrance to Rico’s kitchen. The explosion of the grenade-like weapon is so strong, it propels Justine forward at a faster rate than I can shut down. She lands in the dining room with a thud, the sound of her torso hitting the tiled ground haunting me more than real-life nightmares.
Pop. Pop. Pop.Gunfire rattles around me as men swarm through the demolished reinforced door. With the accuracy of a madman, I take down a front runner with my knife. As the life in his eyes vacates, I clamber across the floor littered with metal shards to reach Justine, lying still and face down.
Like something out of a police rescue show, I drag her behind the dining table before upending it as if it’s weightless. The thick wooden material hides her from the men swarming Rico’s apartment, while also giving me the opportunity to assess her for injuries. Her shirt has holes the size of dimes in it from wood and metal shards pelting across the room during the blast, but her injuries appear superficial.Thank fuck.
Grabbing her cheeks with my hands, I lower my forehead to rest on hers. The assurance in my eyes that I’ll never let anything happen to her helps quell the violent shakes hindering her tiny frame. She presses her trembling lips to mine, acknowledging my oath with as many words as I used to deliver it. Her strength inspires me. It also ensures nothing is below me when it comes to protecting her.
After mouthing to Justine to keep her head down, I remove the gun strapped to my ankle. I don’t usually carry a weapon, but Dimitri’s warning earlier this week convinced me to step outside the box.Once again, thank fuck.
A monster awakes inside of me when Justine asks, “Where’s Blaire?”
Keeping my surveillance on the downlow, I do a quick headcount. There are at least a dozen men racing up the servants’ stairwell in Rico’s kitchen, and another half a dozen lying in wait in his kitchen. Three men lie lifeless within touching distance of a motionless Blaire curled in a ball halfway into the living room, proving I’m not the only one packing heat.
Even with a white picket fence and a humble family life, Rico has kept his gun safe well stocked.
When I catch the quickest glimpse of Rico’s murderous eyes as he rains gunfire on the men threatening his very existence, I know what I must do. I break into a sprint without a second thought, knowing without a doubt he’ll protect myahrenas fiercely as I’m endeavoring to save his kitten.
While Rico covers me with the heavy discharge of a fully automatic 9mm Glock, I drag Blaire behind the table Justine’s back is propped against, praying the heaviness of her body is because she and Rico have been trying for baby number two the past six months, and not the result of a bullet.
When Blaire remains motionless, I slap her cheeks. “Come on, Kitty. It’s time to play.”
The sting of my palm reddens her lifeless cheeks, but it barely rouses her. Not willing to give up without a fight, I begin CPR. My compressions are hard but necessary. I don’t like rough-handling my brother’s wife, but if it gets her out of here alive, I’ll use any tactic necessary.
Within seconds, a gurgling noise sounds from Blaire’s throat. Unsure if it’s the right response—I’ve only ever taken lives, not revived them—I lean back on the balls of my feet. The gagging sounds continue as the color spreading across Blaire’s cheeks reveals her silent fight.
“She’s choking.”
With a gusto I didn’t know she had, Justine tilts Blaire’s head back, props open her mouth, then shoves two fingers down her throat. I stare at the chunk of chicken Justine extracts, praying it isn’t one of many, when the noise of a woman fighting to stay alive breaks me from my trance.
With the gasp of a woman seconds from asphyxiation, Blaire’s back arches off the tiled floor. Her wide-with-panic eyes stare up at me for several long seconds, as if confused why my eye coloring doesn’t match her husband’s.
Although I’d love to relish in her shock for a few seconds longer, now is not the time. She may be breathing, but we are far from safe.
“Watch her?”
Justine agrees to my request without pause, strengthening my beliefs she was born for this role. She’s shaking like a leaf, but that could be her body’s only defense to cool the fire in her eyes. My queen is rising from her throne, ready to defend it as readily as she is me.
“Three on your right.” I’m yelling, but I doubt Rico can hear me. There is too much gun power being exchanged between us and the balaclava-clad men overwhelming us eight to one.
Bang. Bang.Two men approaching Rico’s right fall victim to my wrath, the gush of blood running over their eyes the only pops of color in their all-black outfits.
I’m about to take down the third when Dimitri enters the living room. His dark hair is slicked with sweat, and he has a gun in his hand. I’m about to fire at him when he takes down a man sneaking up on Rico unaware.
His aim is so precise, his bullet crinkles the man’s brows. After watching him fall at Rico’s feet, Dimitri swings his wide eyes my way. “They’re swarming you from all angles. You need to get into the open before they kill you all.”
He spins on his heels, his second life claimed with a murderous grin that shows he’s not happy his turf is being overrun by Russians. He slices the perp’s chest so viciously, it appears as if he’s prepping him for open heart surgery. Just like Rico and me, Dimitri was born for his role. He’ll also die for it.
After slicing the tendons on the knee of an unnamed assailant, Dimitri devotes his attention back to me. A year ago, his job was to do anything and everything to take me down. Now he only has one task on his mind: getting us both out of here alive.
It doesn’t ease the hostile waters between us, but it does award him my trust.
