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Pop.
The shattering of glass, the shouts of men, the warning of death screaming through the air. As I duck onto the floor, protecting myself from the spraying of bullets and flying shards of glass, I look between the seats and can see the driver slumped over the steering wheel as bullets continue to puncture his lifeless body. The guard in the front seat is firing his gun at rapid speed, bleeding from his own bullet wounds.
Facing death as it marches toward us, I know now that I have made a horrid mistake. I should have gone with Nick. God, I should have gone. And now because of my foolish pride, I am going to die.
Chapter Twenty
Nick
Iwhip thesteering wheel hard to the left, careening around the corner. I’ve been following the caravan on a parallel street, but when the sound of full-out war explodes in the evening air, I know the threat of attack I’d overheard one of Morelli’s men discussing has become reality. I’ve had my chance to save Lyriope, and now it could be too late.
“Fuck!” I yell, twisting the wheel yet again in order to avoid colliding with a car that has pulled perpendicular to the road, effectively blocking the path of Morelli’s vehicles.
Bullets whizz everywhere, puncturing metal and splintering glass, ricocheting off the pavement and bricks of buildings lining the street.
Jumping from my car, I run toward the battle. Cars line the street, bodies fallen where men have piled out of vehicles only to find a bullet with their name on it. The first vehicle, Morelli’s car, is riddled with jagged holes. Bullets have punctured the metal in too many places to count. Passing what has to be one of Sidorov’s men’s vehicles, I duck low, snagging the gun from the lifeless hand of one of the fallen. Frankly, I don’t give a damn who is dead or not of these men, I only care about one person, and she is in the car that is obviously the primary target.
Firing both in front of me and behind, I run to the vehicle and, ignoring the driver’s door, yank open the door to the backseat. It looks as if a bomb has exploded inside the interior. Blood is everywhere.
I can’t believe my eyes. Despite the glass shards that glitter in her hair, torn bits of stuffing from the ruined upholstery clinging to the blood that coats her flesh, Lyriope is alive. Though Bryant’s fingers grip her hair, using her body as his shield, she isn’t cowering in fear.
“We need to get the hell out of here!” Bryant shouts, yanking her forward to protect him as he reaches to the front seat to secure a gun from one of his fallen men.
Lyriope cries out, pulling back despite his hold on her.
I lift my gun as Bryant stares me down. Not willing to shoot and possibly hit Lyriope, I move forward to better my chances.
“Let go of me,” Lyriope shouts in her struggle. Before I can even twitch, she draws her arm back and slams her fist into Bryant’s nose. Blood spurts and his hand drops, releasing her hair.
Never looking away from his face, ignoring the bullets that continue to pierce the car, she calmly runs her hands over the bodice of her dress, smearing the cloth with Bryant’s blood.
“Lyriope, we have to go!” I yell, drawing Morelli’s gaze to me before he sees the gunfight outside the door of the car.
“Get me the fuck out of here,” he orders. He’s checking the found gun for the count of bullets, but he’s a wise enough man to know that his chances of getting out of this alive are slim without some sort of backup.
“Fuck you,” I snarl, ignoring his look of disbelief that unlike most men, I’m not groveling in subservience to his ass. “We have to go now,” I repeat to Lyriope, reaching to pull her out of the car and away from Bryant.
“Wait!” she says, twisting in my arms. “We can’t just leave him here.”
But we can… we should…
“We don’t have time for this.” I curse when a bullet streaks between our heads, shattering what remains of the rear window.
I grab her around the waist, pulling her against me as I try to back out of the car.
“No!” she screams yet again. “I won’t leave without my father. No one deserves to die.” She attempts to twist from my grasp, her feet kicking.
“You’re going to get yourself killed.” I reach for her again, but not before Bryant forces himself between us. He’s leaving with us one way or the other.
Another bullet blasts into the car and I order, “Fine, but you owe me one, you son of a bitch.” Grabbing Lyriope’s chin, I force her to look at me. “You don’t leave my side for a second.” She nods, and before we exit the car, I look at Bryant and say, “Follow close behind and run for your fucking life. I’ll cover us the best I can.” I pull Lyriope completely out of the car as Bryant scoots across the seat to follow. “Now!” I shout, firing my gun as the three of us charge toward my car.
More Sidorov men come from all directions, guns blazing, bullets slamming into the vehicle that Lyriope and Bryant were just in as they didn’t see the escape. Others, however, saw them run for my car and are now firing at us.
“Get down!” I shout. I yank the gear shift and the vehicle careens in reverse, fishtailing from one side of the street to the other until I give one final turn of the wheel to spin it completely around to face the opposite direction. Pressing the gas pedal to the floor, I yell at them both to stay down, leaving unbelievable carnage in our wake.
As we’re driving down the street, I keep looking back to make sure no one is following us. The Sidorovs hadn’t expected me to come in and foil their plan. They had only planned for Morelli’s guards and didn’t have a contingency plan for me. I glance overto Lyriope and notice blood trickling down the side of her face from a head wound.
Pulling off to a side street, I stop the car so I can examine Lyriope. “Let me look at that.”
