Page 47 of Their Mafia Empire


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I dropped to my knees and wrested it from his mouth. The corners of his lips were cracked. I wondered when the last time he drank anything was.

“Knight?” He was weak. His face was beaten. The collar of his shirt was soaked in blood. He had cut above his eye and one of his ears had been sliced.

“I’m getting you out of here, man. You don’t know how many people are looking for you.” He had no fucking idea how happy I was to see him.

Kimble struggled on the ground with the man guarding Crew.

I worked to untie the knots at his ankles and wrists. I wedged the flashlight between my teeth, pointing the beam on the rope.

I tossed them on the ground and put an arm under Crew’s shoulder to lift him. He was dead weight. I struggled to get him to support himself.

“Can you walk out of here?” I asked.

“Hell yeah.” He could barely stand. It was only adrenaline that got him to his feet. I wasn’t completely sure his foot wasn’t broken the way he stood. It was twisted at an odd angle.

“Kimble!” I screamed. “Let’s go.” He didn’t answer, he was still in the fight.

My eyes whipped to the part of the tunnel where we had emerged. “Fuck,” I whispered. There were two more sets of lights running toward us. This guy wasn’t alone. From the lights headed for us, I couldn’t do a head count.

Finally, Kimble jumped to his feet. The man he had attacked was lifeless on the ground. But we were already outnumbered with the new group.

Kimble pulled his gun. He aimed it for the men running.

“Stay out of the way,” I urged Crew. “We’ll get out of here.” He wasn’t armed, and there wasn’t time to request another gun. I just needed him to stay down.

Crew almost fell trying to make it to the wall on his own. He was in bad shape. It would take Kimble and me to haul him out of here. The injuries looked like they would heal on the surface. We could fix a broken foot. We could stitch his ear.

The gunshots started and I knew if I didn’t fire back, I was a sitting duck. I took position next to Kimble, kneeling and shooting. I emptied a round and I realized the men weren’t running anymore. I didn’t know who or how many I shot.

“Shit. They’re down.” Their flashlights rolled on the stone floor. “Think they’re dead?” I asked.

Kimble groaned. He was hunched over. I hadn’t noticed that the giant wasn’t standing anymore.

“You okay?” I asked.

When he raised his head, I saw the blood spreading across his shirt.

“You got hit. Fuck, Kimble.”

He sounded like an angry bear. He pushed me away. “It’s nothing. I think it went straight through.”

“Nothing my ass.” I pushed back to see if he had been grazed or if the bullet had gone through like he thought. “It’s your shoulder.” I pointed the flashlight near his shoulder blade. “I think it did go through.”

He shook his head. “Let’s just get him out. There could be more on the way. I’ll take something for it when we’re home.” He tried to push off the ground. I offered him my hand. His palm clasped on to mine and I lifted the heavy man to his feet.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Just get him.” His voice cracked with the pain. He cradled his arm.

“Crew, we’ve got a little walk, man.” I wanted to downplay it. If he had any idea how long it was going to take us to get to the freight elevator, I might have a hard time convincing to move on that broken foot. I knew I was going to have to carry him myself with the kind of shape Kimble was in.

Crew didn’t answer.

“Crew, you ready?” I asked. I spun the light around. I didn’t want to blind the guy, but maybe he had fallen back past the tarp the guards used to conceal their location in the tunnel. I had to give it to them. It blocked light and if someone did come this far, they wouldn’t know it was there.

“I’ll help you and now we have to get the Neanderthal out,” I joked. “God, Seraphina is going to be so happy to see you—”

I stopped. I stopped talking. I stopped thinking. I dropped to my knees. I pressed my fingers to his neck. I don’t know why I did it. Was I supposed to confirm what I already knew? There was a bullet hole on the side of his head and one on his chest. His eyes were open. Vacant. But I did it anyway. I held them there firmly planted against his artery, waiting for a pulse. For a twinge. A single breath of hope.

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