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Chapter21
Danil
“Daddy!” Daniela screams, clutching my neck as I dive to the thick carpet in the viewing room. I wince with pain, catching a glimpse of my bloody jacket sleeve.
If that bastard had clipped me an inch higher, it’d have hit Daniela.
Thick pieces of ceramic crack as bullets ravage the floral arrangements spread around the casket. I cover Daniela with my body, fumbling for my gun with my one good hand. I palm the handle, point at the shooter, and fire. Adrenaline courses through me, my eyes scouring the room for Larysa.
I squeeze off a couple of more shots in the shooter’s direction, not really able to do much since Daniela is under me. Luka fires a shot to his head and one to his chest from his corner of the room. The guy goes down, taking one of the large floral wreaths with him. Flower petals spray into the air, another round of shots tearing into the wall that Luka and Natasha are crouched against.
An ear-splitting scream rises above the weeping and crying around me. I jerk my head toward the doorway just in time to see another shooter with his hand around Larysa’s neck drag her out of the room.
“Z,” I yell. “Get the hell over here.”
Zak crawls over to me. “What the fuck is going on?”
I grit my teeth, popping in another magazine and pulling back on the slide before jumping off the carpet. “I’m gonna find out. Take the baby. Don’t move from this room, understand?”
“Yeah, I’ll guard her with my life.”
I run out of the room, my brothers charging behind me.
“Leave me alone! Danil!”
I twist in the direction of Larysa’s desperate voice and do an about-face toward the exit. He’s got his arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her roughly down the hallway. She struggles, pounding the shit out of him, harder as they near the door. My calf muscles tense with every step I run. Blood pumps so hard, my heart’s about ready to explode. I hold out my gun but the fucker has her too close to his body. I can’t get a clean shot, no matter which angle I try.
My only chance is to get close enough to tackle him. And then when I get answers, I’ll skewer his ass.
Just as he pushes open the door, I leap onto his back, tackling them both to the floor. The door swings closed, smacking him in the nose. He grunts, distracted. I shove Larysa away from him and she runs to take cover behind a column.
“Fuck you, Malikov. That was only the opening ceremony,” the guy hisses, wiggling out from under me. He flings open the door and I pop a cap in the back of his thigh.
“For you, too, asshole.” I roll to my feet as he falls forward onto the concrete stoop. Holding the gun to his head, I move close enough to grab the back of his jacket and pull him backward so my lips are against his ear. Gusty winds blow sheets of thick raindrops against my skin, the sky a dark, gloomy shade of gray.
“You’ve got two choices, motherfucker. You’re gonna tell me who sent you or I’m gonna make you suffer by plugging your whole body full of bullets until you beg me to stick the gun into your mouth and end your misery.” My lips twist. “What’s it gonna be?”
A gruff laugh slices the air. “In a couple of seconds, none of that is gonna matter.”
“What the fuck are you—?”
A screeching sound jars me. Two black SUVs stop in front of the home, windows cracked.
Shit.
A sea of gun shots follows. Bullets ravage the siding of the funeral home. My brothers dart past me, crouching low with their own guns, firing into the sides of the truck. Our bullets ricochet off the metal and glass.
“The fucking things are armored,” my brother Nik grunts. “Go for the tires.”
They don’t stick around long enough for us to get the opportunity. The wheels squeal against the pavement and the trucks careen around the nearest corner, speeding away from the funeral home.
The guy in my grip shakes and shudders. I flip him around and push him against the outside railing. A deep red stain spreads into his rain-soaked white shirt. He clutches his bloody throat, gargling and sputtering.
Fuck. It was a suicide mission. He got in close to take his shot and if he failed and got caught, they were gonna silence him themselves.
I grab the sides of his jacket and give him a shake. His eyes glass over, face draining of color. His pale skin looks even paler against the pop of red flowing down his chest. He clutches his neck, and I know I only have seconds to get information.
“Who sent you? You’re fucking dying. Tell me now and I’ll get help.”
