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The thought hasn’t sunk in and I’m trying to fight it but it’s difficult. The claws of excitement are starting to tug at my heart, more so now that Cara seems to be on my side and supportive of whatever I want to do with the child.
My child.
My heart skips a beat suddenly, pain skittering through my chest and I shift subtly, trying to flex my shoulders to ease the cramp that follows.
I could be a father. Me. After all this time.
It’s not the same as having a child with Cara, that prospect brings a much more tender warmth sweeping through me, but it’s something. It’s a start.
I just need Blair to answer my fucking calls.
The car slows, momentum pulling me forward slightly and we turn into a large car park that’s already filled with a couple of sedans I recognize as belonging to Dante’s security.
“Boss.” Archer pipes up and I force my thoughts back on track. We’re here now and I can’t afford to be distracted by anything, oranyone.
Focus. After tonight, if Blair doesn’t call me back then I’ll just turn up at her door.
“This the place?” I ask and Archer nods, offering me a grim smile as he presses a handgun into my hand. Sliding from the car, I check to make sure the safety is off and straighten my jacket so it rests more comfortably around my shoulders.
Now that we’re here, the burning passion for Cara is melting into a cooler desire forrevengeas I take in the building before me. Archer wasn’t kidding, it doesn’t look like the usual Russian brothels we’ve paid a visit to. The walls are pale and clean, no broken windows, and the front door even appears to be on its first set of hinges.
I take it all in within a single glance, then I turn to Archer who stands behind me flanked by three guards while Niccolo remains in the car.
“Alright, you all know why we’re here. You know what he looks like so you see anyone that’s not him? You kill him.” I bark out the orders and all three men nod while Archer runs his final check over the assault rifle in his hands.
“Let’s do this.”
We step into the building, weapons raised and eyes alert. The open plan reception area greets us with silence, not a soul to be seen and suspicion immediately spikes over the back of my neck. For a brothel, it’s oddly quiet.
I shoot Archer a glance, tilting my head to the corridor to the left indicating he’s to follow me with one other guard. The other two take the corridor to the right and we split up, moving down them with practiced ease. This isn’t our first rodeo.
My suspicion grows as each room we check ends up being empty. All the beds are made and undisturbed and there’s a distinct lack of clientsorworkers. By the time we’ve cleared the first floor and met up with the rest of our men on the second, I know something is wrong.
“Is this definitely the place?” I hiss at Archer as he stops by my left elbow, rifle raised.
“Yes,” he replies in a hushed whisper. “The tail outside trailed him here and saw him enter with four men. This isdefinitelythe place.”
I lower my gun as the sudden urge to lash out rises.
“Well, no one’s fucking here—!” My hissed words end in a cry as something - or someone - slams out of the door to my right and crashes full pelt into me. There’s nothing to stop me from being flung into Archer and we go down in a heap as our men erupt into yells and spraying gunfire.
It’s chaos.
The brute that tackled me has his fat hands in my leather jacket before I’ve even fully hit the ground, jerking me up from Archer with such strength that my stomach lurches painfully. Archer tries to pull me down and earns a boot to the face for his efforts. A thickly sculpted face flashes before my eyes as I’m hauled up, then flung into the opposite wall as if I’m nothing more than a doll.
Holy shit!
My back takes the brunt of the impact and the moment my elbow connects with the brick, a shock travels up my arm, and my pistol slips from my grip.
Barely a breath enters my lungs before theattackeris on me again, his thick hands settling around my neck. I lift a leg, slamming my knee forward into the soft flesh of his groin and drawing a snarl of pain from his mouth. He raises a fist, slamming it into the side of my head and sending me sprawling across the floor.
I hit the floor hard and the metal of my fallen gun digs into the soft flesh of my abdomen. Gunfire trickles out and Archer yells in pain somewhere behind me as I roll to the side, seeking out my weapon. Cool metal brushes my fingertips as I grab it and roll over onto my back just in time to see the assailant charge once more.
I fire two shots and he goes down like a sack of potatoes.
Scrambling to my feet, my heart hammering, I aim my weapon ready to fire but the sight before me brings my fingers to a halt.
Archer is on his knees, his crisp white shirt soaking quickly with blood from a shoulder wound and pain escapes his gritted teeth as the Russian that manhandles him digs cruel fingers into the pulsing wound.
