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Rafael
Nero staresat Anna’s retreating back. His brows pulled together in a frown.
“Anna isn’t feeling particularly favorable toward Una right now.” His frown turns to a scowl as he stares at me. “Una cut her finger off.”
“To save her life. It’s only a finger.”
I smirk. “Anna doesn’t see it that way. She was rather attached to it.”
“Una has sacrificed everything—”
“And Anna has suffered plenty, but we aren’t here to discuss our women, Nero. Nicholai is our priority.” He nods. “I have extra men. And I’ll know as soon as he lands. What’s the plan?”
* * *
I drummy fingers over the steering wheel anxiously, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. Anna sits beside me, every single muscle in her body rigid, tense. I’m torn between hating that she’s here, so close to unquestionable danger, and not wanting her to be anywhere but right by my side. I’m not sure if that makes me selfish. It’s not like I didn’t try to send her away.
The hot desert sun glares off the hood of the car, and I glance at the car parked right in front of us at the edge of the rock face that overlooks the sprawling desert below us. Nero is running point on this. He knows Una, and he seems to trust her. I guess her being the mother of his child probably blinds him to the dangers of placing faith in such a woman. The window winds down and a pair of binoculars appears, focused on the road below. I pick up my own binoculars and see a cloud of dust kicking up in the wake of a convoy of black Range Rovers. The windows are blacked out, and I can’t make out the occupants, but who else is it going to be other than Nicholai? They pull over to the shoulder and all the doors open—several soldiers climb out and arm themselves. I spot Una standing at the head of what must be twenty Elite.
The passenger door of Nero’s car opens, and Gio steps out, looking so uncomfortably out of place in the desert. His black suit is still in place, his shiny shoes covered in dust. Sweat dots his brow, sliding over the scowl fixed on his face.
I lower the window when he comes to a stop at my door. “You ready to take that jacket off yet, Italian?” I smirk.
The look of distaste remains. “There are twenty Elite.”
“I can see that.” I place the binoculars to my face again and stare at the soldiers, dressed in black military gear.
I smile when the back door of the second Range Rover opens, and Nicholai Ivanov steps out in his suit, his pale skin practically reflecting the sun. I honestly didn’t think he’d come. He’s completely exposed, ripe for the picking. Even with his Elite…this is cartel country. He’s arrogant and obsessive. It’s his obsession with Una that will lead to his demise.
“Nicholai is here,” I say.
“Good. It won’t be long,” Gio says.
The band of Elite disperses, heading up the hillside and leaving Nicholai alone with only two Elite to protect him. Stupid. So very stupid.
I lower the binoculars. “Give them a minute to get to the villa, and then it’s time for a little car chase.” It’s dangerous, of course it is, but I can’t deny that the adrenaline is spiking through my veins like a damn drug right now.
The low rumble of Nero’s engine kicks in, and I meet his gaze in his rearview mirror. This is it, make or break. Glancing at Anna, I flash her a smile.
“Ride or die?”
Her lips curl at the corners, and she places her hand on my thigh. “Ride or die.”
I start the engine and pull away, sending the Hummer down the steep hillside after Nero, kicking up dust and rubble in our wake. Carlos pops out of the sunroof of Nero’s car, readying the .50 cal mounted on the roof. Samuel is already on mine.
Nero wants Nicholai alive, but well, I can’t make any promises on that front. I want that fucker dead and buried, one way or the other.
As soon as we’re on flat ground, I pull up beside Nero, and we’re flooring it toward the parked Range Rovers. The two soldiers move in front of Nicholai, firing bullets at the cars. Shots ping off the hood, and we speed up. When they realize that their bullets aren’t doing shit against armor plating, they run for the car, ushering Nicholai inside.
Carlos opens fire, the bullets leaving golf ball-sized holes in the bodywork of one of the parked Ranger Rovers.
Samuel fires and the deafening bang, bang, bang of gunfire is all I can hear. The Range Rover screeches away, heading into the desert, and we follow. Bullets spray the back of the Range Rover, shattering the glass and tearing holes through the bodywork until one tire explodes. The car veers violently to the side, fishtailing before skidding sideways and tipping. It rolls over several times and comes to a stop on its wheels again. I slam my foot on the brake, kicking up a cloud of dust that drifts in front of the wrecked vehicle ominously. Nero is out of the car, gun in hand, before the dust has settled.
“Stay here,” I say to Anna. “Sam, cover us.” Opening the door, I slide out and walk over to where Nero and Gio are. There’s an Elite slumped against the steering wheel clutching his head. The other one looks dead. Nero lifts his gun and kills the survivor. I move to the back door, my hand hovering over the door handle as I glance at Nero. He points his gun at the door before nodding. I wrench the door open, and Nicholai falls out of the car. He looks dead for a moment, but then he groans and attempts to crawl across the floor.
Nero walks over to his pathetic form and kicks him in the gut, hard enough that he lands on his back, gasping for air. The Russian holds his hand up, shielding his eyes from the sun as he tries to look at Nero. His suit is covered in dust and blood trickles from his nose, pouring down his chin.
“Nicholai Ivanov,” Nero says, dragging the Russian to his feet. He sways, and Gio grabs his arm, holding him up. “How the mighty have fallen.”
