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“Leonardo just called a hit on Bartholomew. We’re about to strike his apartment. I don’t know why I decided to tell you this, but I thought you should know.”
25
BARTHOLOMEW
I’d just stepped out of my gym when I heard it.
Thud.
My eyes lifted to the floor above mine.
It sounded like a body.
I pulled out my phone and checked the alarm system. It was disabled. The panic button hadn’t been pushed. But the system said the front door had opened—and it was still open. I fired off a quick text to Bleu.There’s been a hit on my apartment. Bring backup.I slid the phone into my pocket then stepped back into the gym. A rifle with extra rounds was stowed underneath one of the machines. A bulletproof vest was secured under another. I strapped the vest to my bare chest then poked my head out into the hallway with the rifle in my hands.
Thud.
They’d made it past my security. Prevented my staff from hitting the panic button. And now they combed my apartment, silentlytaking out my men one by one in the hope of catching me off guard in my bedroom.
I would normally be asleep at this time of day, but sleep didn’t come easy for me anymore. I moved down the hallway and scanned the rooms, looking for my first victim. I approached the first one from behind. With a vest strapped to his chest and dressed in all black, he wore nothing distinguishable to identify his boss. I slammed the butt of my gun into the back of his head then caught him before he collapsed. I dragged him into an empty bedroom and left him on the rug.
Thud.
My apartment contained twelve of my men altogether, and I had no idea how many they’d already gotten. The fact that not a single shot had been fired told me none of my guys had the slightest idea what was happening.
I was on my own—until Bleu showed up with backup.
The best thing I could do was stay hidden until Bleu got there.
Twenty minutes came and went, and nothing happened.
Bleu must be dead. I texted other guys, and help was coming, but I’d wasted more time than I could afford.
Then Laura called me.
Out of the fucking blue.
I couldn’t answer it, so I switched the phone to silent.
Footsteps grew louder.
“He’s in here.”
I ducked into a room and pressed against the wall.
“Bleu says he hasn’t left.”
The shock was so harsh I forgot to breathe.
Bleu.
He’d fucked me.
I was trapped with god knew how many men, and I only had minutes, maybe seconds, before they found me. I could have taken the opportunity to speak to the person who actually mattered before I was shot—but I’d ignored her call.
The footsteps grew louder.
“Check all the rooms. He’s hiding somewhere—like a coward.”
