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Chapter Thirteen
Ibarely had time to react before bullets began flying. “Get down!” I yelled. I threw Sasha to the ground. We were out in the open with nowhere to hide.
“Where’s the shooter?” Marco yelled. He had his gun in hand and was looking around trying to spot the shooter.
“There’s more than one!” I shouted. It was difficult to see anything. The cocktail hour had been full of people drinking and eating. No one had expected a shoot-out in the middle of the Plaza. Now, they were running around trying to find cover.
A volley of shots rang out again. I grabbed Sasha by the arm, practically dragging her behind an overturned table.
“Did Lorenzo not pay for security?” I hollered. People were screaming and sobbing. Men were shouting, and the chaos of everything was making it difficult for me to get a handle on the situation.
“Cheap bastard,” Marco muttered.
I pulled my gun out of my waist holder and released the safety. The gunfire had ceased, but I wasn’t going to allow myself to be caught unaware again.
“Whoever was shooting is gone,” Marco said. He started to peek his head over the table, but I reached out a hand and pulled him back down.
“The first one to poke their head out of the foxhole gets it blown off,” I hissed out.
“We can’t just sit here,” Marco said.
He was right. We might be behind a table, but we were much too exposed for my liking.
I looked behind me towards Sasha, who had been as quiet as a mouse, much to my surprise.
“Sasha?” I asked.
She was doubled over, and her normally pale face was even whiter than a ghost.This is not the time for her to get ill,I thought to myself.
It wasn’t until I looked down at her stomach that I realized that Sasha wasn’t ill. Her hands were pressed over a red wound on her stomach, which was growing larger and larger across her gold dress.
“I think I’ve been shot,” she said. Her hands were shaking as she tried her best to press them against the wound, and I knew that she was going into shock.
“Fuck,” Marco muttered.
I reached out and gathered Sasha into my arms. She fell into them easily, the normal tenseness of her body completely absent as she succumbed to her pain. “I’ve got you,” I whispered into Sasha’s blonde hair. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of her.”
Sasha released a small moan of pain. She reached up with a bloody hand and tried to grab at my shirt. “I have to tell you something,” she said. A small little dribble of blood came out of her lips, and I felt true fear freeze my heart as I saw it.
“You can tell me later,” I told her.
She shook her head, but I wasn’t going to hear it. I’d seen enough gunshot wounds in my life to know that this one was bad.
“Give me your jacket,” I said to Marco.
He was already taking it off as he scanned our surroundings. “Here,” he said.
I pressed the fabric to Sasha’s midsection as I tried my best to slow the bleeding.
“No one has shot in about five minutes,” Marco said. “I think we are safe.”
I breathed in heavily. “Something about this doesn’t feel right,” I said. “It was too quick, too open…”
I shifted Sasha in my arms as I tried to get to my phone.
“Maybe they did get what they came for,” Marco said, looking at Sasha. She hadn’t groaned when I shifted her, and I knew that time was running out to get her help. If we didn’t move, she was going to die, and while I had been willing to kill Sasha to get what I wanted, feeling her blood pour over my hands was affecting me more than I expected it to.
“Let’s go,” I said. I cradled Sasha in my arms. Her head lolled over my forearm and her breathing was wet and shallow.
