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Chapter Seven
Katriona
We pull up outside my apartment complex and slip inside my unit without a problem. A few people peek out, and as soon as they see Sylan’s grim look, they quickly slam their doors and return to minding their own business. Until the next person comes walking through, I’m sure. No one around here can keep their noses clean.
“I won’t be long.”
I shove aside the embarrassment of having him see the dump I’ve called home for eighteen months. It’s nothing new to him anyway. If he’s sat outside for even half of that, less even, he knows the kind of neighborhood we are in.
Luka is downstairs with two others, so no one is getting in or out without them knowing.
I dash off to my room and shed my uniform in favor of a pair of jeans, flats and a cute halter top that sparkles with tiny amber sequins that the sales lady said matched my eyes.
I stand in front of my mirror and flip my hair over to gather the long, thick mass in a top knot. When I stand back up, I nearly swallow my own tongue, which prevents me from screaming.
A brutish, rough hand clamps over my mouth, and I don’t need a proper introduction to know whose filthy hand is cutting off my air.
Donovan.
My closet door swings open, and another guy comes waltzing into my room. The one feature I loved most about this tiny apartment is going to be what gets me killed.
Like hell. I have finally found my happiness. I’m not going out like this. My fear quickly turns into rage.
I kick out not really aiming for anything and when my foot hits my dresser, glass crashes to the floor.
Heavy footfalls carry through my apartment, and I scream around the sausage fingers covering my mouth.
Who I assume is Donovan by age and the fine clothing alone pulls out a gun with a long tube at the end.
Oh shit.
I draw my feet up, and the sudden shift of weight knocks my captor off balance, making his hand pull away from my mouth.
“Gun,” I scream and get a good backhand across the cheek for it. I can take it. The harsh force behind the hit knocks me against the door, and I fling it open, taking cover behind the skimpy sofa. Luckily it’s not pushed up completely against the wall. I don’t know where Sylan is, but I have to trust he knows how to handle himself in a shootout.
A deep voice bellows from my room. “You’ll pay for that, you little whore. Just like your father did. Nobody cheats me and lives.”
The words mean nothing to me, and I’m not about to answer him back and give up my position.
Several zings of metal against metal fill the silence and loud thuds thunder over the floorboards.
I duck around the edge of the sofa and catch Sylan burying his fist into Donovan’s face. Thug number two is taking aim from my bedroom door. I have a lamp in my hand ready to swing when Luka busts through my door, leaving it hanging on the hinges, and with murder in his eyes.
Two bears are barreling toward me from the right, and I’m caught in the middle of a gunfight turned all-out brawl. I duck behind a cement wall and am reminded of Sylan’s sister and how her refusal to listen to others eventually killed her. True, I don’t know the full story but I can relate. Sylan didn’t want me to come here, and I refused to hide in fear. I didn’t even try for a happy medium that would safeguard me and not place those who have sworn to protect me in jeopardy. And then there is Sylan. He slams his fist into Donovan’s meaty face, blood spilling from more gashes than I care to think about.
How stupid of me.
Sylan throws Donovan against the wall, and his body slumps over. Metal casings fall to the bare floorboards to my left, and I see Luka put a bullet in the thug.
“Do not have pity for him, Kat,” Luka warns, and I draw my gaze to his. “He’s the filth of this world and would have been the one to break your body in for far darker sexual depravities than any woman should have to suffer. His death is on me.”
“You don’t carry this blame alone, Luka. I won’t allow it. If anything, we share this guilt.” His face turns grim much like Sylan’s does.
I turn my focus to him. “And Donovan?” I ask but I can’t feel much sympathy for the man.
Sylan has the barrel of his gun aimed at the older man’s head who is huffing and puffing.
Sylan moves so fast my eyes don’t catch the movement or the sound of the bullet until afterward. Donovan howls, and I see him clutching his knee. “Now you won’t be able to sneak up on innocent young women or climb into their rooms again. Fucking scum. I should put a bullet between your eyes and be rid of you.”
