Page 80 of Cruel Vows

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PAISLEY

Icrouch under the table with Imalia, feeling like a coward for hiding.

And yet, what use am I in a gang shootout?

All I can think is, please don’t let Massimo get hit. Even though the day he snatched me from the bar, I would have been praying for the opposite. Is it possible to go from hating a man so badly I wanted him dead to caring for him enough that the idea of living one more day without him makes my chest ache? It seems ironic.

Imalia squeezes my hand. “We should try to sneak out the back.”

I swallow hard, glancing out from under the table. “Isn’t it too dangerous?”

Imalia’s lips pinch together as she does the same, peering through the gap in the chairs. “I fear we might get hit by a wayward bullet if we stay here.” She nods to a door less than five yards from where we’re hiding. “That door would lead us out to the back alleyway.”

It could work. If we get out of there, we’d be safe. And then a flood of guilt hits me at the mere thought of abandoning Massimo. “What about Massimo?” I ask.

“He’ll be fine, trust me. In fact, it’s be safer if he doesn’t have to worry about us.”

I glance out at the men shooting at each other and nod. “Let’s make a run for it.”

She nods and grabs my hand, dragging me out from under the table and toward the door. We head through it and then down a long, bare corridor leading toward a fire door at the end.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just hide out here?” I ask.

Imalia bites her bottom lip, shrugging. “What if they come down here to escape?”

Fuck. She has a point.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She nods, and we rush down the hallway and out through the fire door and into an alleyway at the back of the club.

The first thing I notice is the soft rumble of engines in the background and then I notice several men further down toward the street with machine guns, waiting next to SUVs with their engines running.

My stomach sinks as I yank Imalia to a stop. “I’ve got a bad feeling about those guys.”

As if they hear me, one turns around, narrowing his eyes as he notices us. Then, an evil smirk twists onto his lips as he nudges the guy next to him.

“Shit,” Imalia says, turning back toward the door.

“Not so fast,” the man shouts, readying his machine gun. “Stay where you are, hands in the air.”

I obey, and so does Imalia, as she slowly turns back to face him. “Look, we just work here. Neither of us want any trouble.”

“We’ve got nothing to do with this,” I add.

The guy shakes his head. “You’re both idiots if you think I don’t know exactly who you are.”

My shoulders slump as he strolls toward us, the machine gun pointed at us. And then another side door swings open and my stomach sinks further than I believed possible.

Adrik is standing there, shoving the poor girl he was with at some guy. He turns and clocks us instantly, an evil smirk splitting his face in two. He marches toward us, clapping his man on the shoulder. “Look what we’ve got here, Alex. Bait.” His eyes switch between the two of us. “Snatch them.”

“Adrik, please don’t—”

“Silence,” he interrupts Imalia, shaking his head. “You two are the perfect leverage for two out of three of my enemies.”

Imalia backs with me toward the door we came through, and his eyes narrow.

“Don’t fucking move another step or Alex will shoot you.”

We both freeze in fear, and I can feel Imalia shaking against me.

“You take Imalia. I’ve got the red-head.”

His eyes fix on mine like an animal stalking his prey.

I swallow hard as I realize I’m out of my depth here, facing a mobster. As he advances toward me, I panic and attempt to run, which results in Adrik rushing and tackling me to the floor painfully as my hip hits the concrete.

“Stupid bitch.” He yanks me by my wrist and then gets a firm hold of me, lifting me off the floor.

“Let go of me, you bastard,” I shout, banging my fists against his back in vain.

The sound of the door we stupidly left the club through opening draws my attention and that’s when I see him. My husband running into the alleyway, eyes wide as they land on me being dragged away by this bastard.

“Massimo,” I call his name, wishing I had trusted my instincts and stayed under the table.

His jaw clenches and he sprints toward us with his gun in his hand, eyes wild with rage. It feels like my heart leaps into my throat as I watch him charge right toward danger. This man is crazy and I’ve no doubt after seeing him kill that man at the table, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot my husband dead.

Once he’s only a few yards behind us, he cocks his gun. The sound makes Adrik stop in his tracks.

“Release her or I’ll sink a bullet in your skull before you can turn around.”

Adrik drops me to my feet, but I’m prepared for it and steady myself. And then his hand clamps around my wrist.

“Drop the gun and order your man to let go of Imalia.”

Adrik chuckles next to me but keeps his back to Massimo. “Are you the one giving the orders now, Massimo?”

He growls. “If you want to keep your head on your shoulders, yes.” I’ve never seen him look so ferocious before, his finger applying a light pressure to the trigger, as his nostrils flare.

Adrik nods and sets the gun on the floor. “Alex, let her go and return to her cousin.”

Imalia is released, and she rushes toward Massimo, but Adrik has yet to release his grip on my wrist.

“Now let my wife return to me and walk away.”

Adrik clicks his tongue, turning around to face Massimo despite his instruction not to move.

“I said don’t move,” Massimo growls.

His eyes narrow and then he yanks me in front of him, using me like a shield. “Do you really have it in you, Massimo? Are you sure your aim is good enough not to hit your wife?”

I notice the way his hand shakes as he aims at Adrik, but he’s torn as Adrik holds me in front of him.

“You know the chaos my death would bring, Massimo.” He starts to back away, holding me still. “I won’t let her go until I’m sure you can’t kill me.”

“Let my wife go and I won’t.”

I feel Adrik’s hand tighten around my neck as he palms my throat. “I don’t think so.”

Massimo pulls the trigger, the bullet flying through the guy’s shoulder.


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