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I smile, but she just lies back down, so all I can do is leave. Nina is important to me, but I have something much more important tonight to deal with: Franco’s death.
Killian is waiting for me at the appointed meeting spot. An old junkyard. When Petrov told me he arranged the meeting with Franco here, I thought it strange but didn’t question it. As long as Petrov gets Franco where I need him to be, I’m fine with anything.
Killian gives me a nod and a pat on the back. We stay on the outskirts of the junkyard where we can keep an eye on the entrance while we wait for Petrov and Franco to show.
“Do you really think this will work?” Killian asks, keeping his voice down.
“It has to.” I pull out my gun and check it for bullets. Fully loaded. With Franco, I’m not taking any chances. I kiss the pendant around my neck. “Dad, this is for you.”
We wait in the darkness until we hear voices. Petrov and Franco. They round a corner, with Petrov taking the lead. Faintly, I can hear him telling Franco he likes to meet people here because it’s secluded. Franco looks suspicious, but that’s just who he is. Nothing new there.
Petrov takes Franco to the middle of the junkyard. The two of them are taking about potentially working together.
“I’d love your help with expanding,” Franco tells Petrov. I don’t hear Petrov’s reply as I stare at Franco. I haven’t been this close to him since the night he tried to kill me. I make a move forward, but Killian grabs my shoulder, keeping me back. He silently shakes his head. It’s not the right time yet.
Petrov needs to get Franco into position so I can fire off a shot. Right now, Petrov is in the way.
What’s he waiting for?I want to shout at him to move. I’ve waited five years for this. I need Petrov to move out of the way so I can have a clear shot at Franco.
A rumble of footsteps echo in the night, and a large group of Franco’s men arrive at the junkyard. That was not part of the plan. Petrov was supposed to find a way to get Franco alone, but Franco’s paranoia probably got the best of him.
“Dammit,” I growl softly to Killian.
“We can still kill him,” he tells me. “We just need Petrov to move.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Petrov asks Franco, still standing in the way of him.
“You really think I’d go anywhere alone? Not when my nephew is out there looking for me. I’d love to make a deal with you, Petrov. You just can never be too careful. What do you say?” Franco holds out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Petrov hesitates for a moment before shaking Franco’s hand. “We have a deal.”
“Good. Now, let’s go men,” he orders the group surrounding him. His men. My father’s men. These men were supposed to be my men.
Anger clouds my judgment. This is not how it was supposed to go. I’m tired of waiting to kill Franco.
I’m taking my shot tonight.
I stand up and walk into the junkyard clearing, my gun pointed at Franco. I don’t bother announcing myself. I just want him dead and gone.
But Petrov turns toward me, his eyes widening, cueing Franco in on what’s happening. Franco whirls around to stare at me and grabs Petrov as a shield just as I fire.
The bullet misses Franco and, instead, lands in Petrov’s shoulder. Petrov shouts as he stumbles back. Franco pushes Petrov out of the way and lifts his gun at me.
I’d be dead if it weren’t for Killian pulling me out of the way. Franco’s bullet hits a dirty old car instead of me.
“What the hell are you thinking?” Killian hisses as we hunker down behind the car. “You didn’t have a clear shot. We need to get out of here.”
He’s right. Franco is armed and has a group of men at his side. Judging by their footsteps, they’re getting closer.
I could stay and fight, but I can’t stand a chance against all those men. So, with gritted teeth and lost hope, I follow Killian out of the junkyard before Franco and his men can catch us. The only problem? They’re hot on our heels.
“Run!” Killian shouts, hustling toward his car. I glance back and see Franco at the head of the group, coming right for me. A dark smile is on his lips. He thinks he has me.
Not a fucking chance.
I dive into Killian’s car, and Killian takes off in a screech of tires. Franco’s men scramble toward their cars to follow us. “Dammit!” I kick the glove compartment.
“Hey, easy on my car,” Killian says, making a sharp right turn.
