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He is no longer the ruthless gentleman in a perfectly tailored suit. This time, there is something feral, something animalistic about him. His features are set in grim lines, his face smeared with dirt and shining beneath a sheen of perspiration. His hair is tousled, the sleeve of his suit jacket is shredded, and his shirt is ripped, exposing the tanned flesh of his chest. He’s brutal and beautiful in equal measure. My eyes widen as I allow myself to stare at him for a moment, taking in his towering form. Violence had never drawn me before, but right now, there’s something irresistibly compelling about him.
Except this is not the time to think about that, Teetee.
Releasing the door, he steps in and reaches out a hand. “Come!” His voice comes out as a deep growl. It’s not a request, so a part of me immediately wants to resist him. Another part, the more rational part, knows that would probably mean death. So, I follow his lead, flinching as he closes his hand roughly around my wrist and hauls me forward with such force that I stumble over my own feet. Something flickers in his expression as I crash into him. When I look down, he has a hand clasped to his side, blood seeping through his fingers.
Shit!
He’s been shot. I’m sure of it.
“Are… are you okay?” I ask, then wish I hadn’t. Why should I care? I should be thrilled if he drops dead. Hell, I should be the one who puts the bullet in him. But still, something in me churns when pain flits over his face.
“It is nothing. Come,” he says again, not answering my question.
“But you’re bleeding!” I stare as the blood drips onto the floor. “We must call an ambulance!”
I almost laugh out loud at the stupidity of my own suggestion. Do I honestly think that paramedics are going to blunder into this war zone? Or that a man like this would even want the authorities getting involved?
I stop for a second, because of all the sounds around us, one is missing. No sirens. It’s been minutes since this gunbattle began; long enough for someone to have called the police. But there’s nothing.
I remember how he’d laughed when I’d tried to threaten to turn him in, and things start to fall into place.
Above the law. Just like Dad said.
Oh, God…Dad…
“What… what has happened to my father?”
“He’s dead.” The words are blunt enough to feel like physical blows.
“I… I know, but…” I gulp. “His body. We can’t just leave him there."
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. He is beyond caring. “He is dead,” he repeats as if that explains everything. “Move! We have no time.” And before I can respond, I’m being hauled almost off my feet as he twists and runs out through the door again. I grit my teeth and try not to choke as we weave past bloody bodies, men with eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, blood splattered up walls, and across marble.
I don’t know what Hell looks like, but I’m pretty sure it’s something like this. Thankfully, I don’t get much chance to dwell on it. When he sees me looking, he stoops and lifts me over his shoulder, barely breaking stride.
“We have to get out of here.” A bullet whines by, putting emphasis on his words. It smashes into the wall nearby, showering us with plaster. I blink quickly to try to clear the particles from my eyes.
“Kirill!” I shriek when a vase explodes near my head without warning. Shouldn’t I have heard the bullet that time? Or is there some kind of sniper out there? High-powered rifles do stuff like that, don’t they? Oh God, how did I manage to grow up so sheltered when my father literally groveled in this world? Either way, I don’t need to know much about this stuff to know that I’m in deep shit.
We’re still darting, ducking low, and my head spins as I try to get my bearings. Panic is rising again and I fight it down.
Calm!
Stay calm!
And then my stomach lurches when he stoops, and then makes a swift run for the door across the room, with me hanging like a ragdoll off his enormous shoulder. Without the bursts of rapid gunfire, it’s not as crazy as it was when it all began, but there’s still someone out there. And they still want us dead.
Or maybe it’s just me they want to kill.
Chapter Eight
Kirill
“Where were you? Why did you do this to me?” the girl spits with tears of rage in her eyes.
Blyad!
I’m on my last fucking nerve with everything that went down here. It’s been less than two hours since the attack ended, yet my world has already turned upside down.
