Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
I can’t let more innocent people die. “Mariya, get ready to move.”
“Okay.”
I stay behind the table as I move toward the other corner, then glance up at the buildings surrounding the market.
I see a glimmer of light reflect from a municipality building, then yank back just as a bullet slams into the table.
Remembering the escape routes I subconsciously planned out the second I brought Mariya to the market, my eyes lock on the busy street where cars are still moving, oblivious to what’s happening.
“We’re going to make a run for the street.” Mariya presses closer to me. “Don’t look back and run for the mall.”
“Okay,” she murmurs, looking much calmer now that some of the shock has faded.
Fuck, her leg’s still healing.
“Duck and run zig-zag,” I say as I shove my guns back into the waistband of my pants.
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath, then ask, “Are you ready, baby?”
“Yes.”
“Now!” I shout. Mariya’s up like a deer, sprinting as fast as she can. I’m right behind her, mirroring every step she takes while keeping my body between her and Pavlović’s scope.
When we reach the street, cars swerve to avoid us, horns blare, and glass shatters as Pavlović takes shots at us.
I hear a grunt behind me, and knowing Marco was just hit, I grab hold of Mariya and drag her down behind a large trashcan.
So fucking close. Just a couple more feet.
I quickly glance around the trashcan, my arms locking my wife to my chest. Seeing Marco’s body on the pavement, anger floods my veins.
Get Mariya to safety, then you can avenge your friend.
“One last sprint, baby,” I say. “Straight ahead. Just make it into the mall.”
“Okay,” she breathes, her face showing signs of pain from the extreme strain on her leg.
“You can do this,” I encourage her.
Mariya nods, her tongue darts out to wet her dry lips, then she trains her eyes on the entrance to the shopping mall.
Pushing to my feet, I yank her up and shove her forward. I stay behind her to take any bullets flying our way while we sprint as fast as Mariya can.
Fire spreads down my arm.
Almost there.
Another bullet hits my lower left side, and knowing the fucker is only playing with us, makes rage explode in me.
I shove Mariya inside the mall, glass shatters, and I hear her scream.
Chapter 45
Mariya
When the glass shatters, I scream from pure frustration.
Luca grabs hold of my arm, and then I’m airborne as he throws me over his shoulder. Without me holding him back, he runs faster than I can with a healed leg, shoving anyone and everyone out of his way.
My eyes land on the crimson stain soaking through his shirt.
“Blood,” I cry as I strain against his hold. “Luca, you’re bleeding!”
He keeps running until we exit via a different entrance. Finally, he stops, and breaking the side window of a random car, he unlocks the door and shoves me inside.
Luca slams the door shut, and as he runs around the front, I quickly unlock the driver’s side door. He climbs behind the steering wheel, and luckily the vehicle is an old model, so he manages to hotwire the engine.
Only when the tires are screeching and we’re peeling down the road does he mutter, “I’m fine. He didn’t shoot to kill. They’re only flesh wounds.”
“They? How many?”
His eyes sweep over every inch of me to ensure I didn’t get shot, then he answers, “Two, but I’m fine.”
Now that we’re out of immediate danger the shock of what happened hits. Marco was killed, and who knows how many of the other men.
It’s just Luca and me.
My breaths are shallow, while Luca is deadly calm.
He used his body as a shield to protect me. Jesus.
I don’t know why it surprises me. I know he loves me but seeing with my own eyes that he’s willing to die for me … that does something to my soul
“What do we do now?” I ask. “If we can get to St. Monarch’s, we’ll be safe.”
“I’m going to make sure you get safely on the jet, then I’m going to hunt the fucker and put an end to this.”
My eyes widen. “I’m not leaving you!”
“Mariya,” he snaps, his eyes locked on the road. “I can’t do my job and protect you.”
“I can help,” I argue. “I’ve trained for this all my life.”
When Luca remains quiet, frustration coils in my chest. “I went up against a group of Albanians and survived. You’ve seen what I can do. Let me help.”
He thinks for a moment, then much to my relief, he nods. He pulls the car to the side of a road, a channel of water to our left and a neighborhood to our right.
Taking out his phone, he pulls up a photo. “This is Pavlović. It was taken a year ago. We’re going to arm ourselves to the teeth and hunt the fucker down.”