Page 11 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

I hit it at seventy miles per hour.

The impact was catastrophic.

Metal screamed. Glass shattered. The airbag deployed with a violence that knocked the breath out of my lungs. My head snapped forward, then back, pain exploding across my chest where the seatbelt locked.

But the gate gave.

It bent. Twisted. Tore free from its hinges and went flying across the manicured lawn like a piece of trash caught in a hurricane.

My car kept going.

Smoking. Hissing. The front end crumpled like paper, but the engine was still running, and that was all I needed.

I made it another hundred feet up the driveway before I slammed on the brakes.

The car skidded to a stop in front of the main house—a sprawling plantation-style mansion with white columns and a wraparound porch that screamedwe’ve had money since before you were born.

I kicked open the driver’s side door.

It fell off the hinges.

Didn’t matter.

I was already moving.

My chest ached where the seatbelt had caught me. My hands were bleeding from where I’d gripped the steering wheel through the impact. My ears were ringing.

I pulled both guns from their holsters—one from my waistband and one from the shoulder rig under my jacket—and trained them on the front door just as it burst open.

Victor’s security team poured out.

Four men.

All armed.

All moving with the kind of precision that said they’d done this before.

“Drop the weapons!” the lead guard shouted. He was big—6’3’, 240, the kind of man who’d been hired specifically to intimidate people.

I didn’t drop shit.

“Back the fuck up,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline screaming through my veins.

They didn’t back up.

They fanned out instead—two moving left, two moving right, trying to flank me.

I tracked them with both guns, my finger resting on the trigger of the one aimed at the lead guard’s chest.

“I said back up.”

“Mr. Landry—” The lead guard’s voice was calm. The kind of calm that came from training and experience. “You need to put the guns down and leave the property.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Victor.”

“Mr. Baptiste doesn’t want to see you.”

“Then he shouldn’t have sent his daughter to my house.”