Johnny lets out a breath, breaking away and studying me intently. “Yeah.” He rocks his head back and forth gently, a sort of disbelief in his expression.
I weave my hand around his, uniting us again. We are stronger together, and I want to make damn sure that Franklin sees that.
He fucked with the wrong power couple.
* * *
The rest of our walk is brief and quiet, aside from the occasional car that drives by. The location Franklin sent us wasn’t too far from Luciano’s hideout, but we couldn’t use one of his vehicles without risking Franklin realizing our alliance. And going back to our car seemed foolish, so here we are, hand in hand, strolling to another abandoned building in the industrial district.
We approach the clearing leading toward where we need to go, loose gravel crunching under our shoes, a train passing in the distance. My heartbeat is steady, my grip firmly on Johnny.
It’s clear that our chances of survival are narrow, but I appreciate the fact that we get to do this together. It’s totally bat-shit crazy, to have such a mindset—I’m well aware of that. There’s something to be said about fully giving yourself to someone, though. Mind, body, and soul. Often, people find this very thing, but it’s one-sided. It’s rare when that connection goes both ways, but with it comes the ability to do anything for the person you love without reservation. Because at the end of the day, what’s more important than that?
I sacrifice myself because Johnny does, too.
A metal door creaks open up ahead, and a large man steps out into the night. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his face is solemn. He studies us each continued step of the way.
Johnny tenses slightly and glances down at me.
I can sense his hesitation. I’m sure he’d rather push me away, forbid me from going into that building, and handle this himself. I know the feeling all too well, given it’s the exact thing running through my mind, too. There’s no convincing either of us otherwise, and there’s no point in trying.
For a split second, I replay a million possible scenarios through my head, but not of the outcome of tonight. Of Johnny’s future.
I watch as he graduates from college, starts his photography business, decides to dabble in cinema and goes off to win some kind of award. He maintains a relationship with his father, and it builds over the years. Wrinkles appear on his face, the scars fading with time. He’s smiling, he’s free…and I’m there with him each step of the way. We bounce around the world, traveling and exploring, and he surprises me with a party when my first novel is published. His character never falters, and somehow, he grows kinder with age. At one point, I even catch a glimpse of us running our own coffee shop. A very Johnny and Claire thing to do.
The massive man at the door puts his hand up, signaling us to stop. “Arms out. Turn around.” His voice is thick and coarse.
So much for the guns we had tucked away.
We comply, outstretching side by side.
He pats Johnny down first, pulling out the two pistols tucked into his waistband. He slides them across the ground where another nameless man picks them up. He flips Johnny around, checking his front, and once he’s confident Johnny is clean, he moves his attention to me.
He starts at the top of my head, moving his way down, across my shoulders, along my arms, up under my armpits. He hesitates for a second too long, his grimy hands hovering over my tits. Before Johnny can react, because I know damn well he’s about to, I thrust my elbow back and slam it into the guy's face. I probably shouldn’t have, but I’d rather it be me than Johnny.
There’s a crack, followed by a slur of curse words. I immediately go back into the arms-out position like nothing happened at all.
I flit my gaze over to Johnny, a look of shock and pride on his face. I stifle the grin on my own.
“You idiot,” the other guy says. “You let a girl break your nose? Seriously?”
“Viktor, she fucking decked me.”
Viktor? Why does that name sound so familiar?
With my back still turned, I have to guess what’s happening. There’s a mild sound of shuffling, and a grunt.
“Get in there, clean yourself up.” The new guy tells the one I injured. His footsteps approach behind me. “Sorry about that. Gleb can get a littlehandsy,if you know what I mean.” He sighs and goes to work patting me down, but not in the creepy way Gleb had done. “Can’t have these.” He pulls the pistols from around my waistband and tucks them into his own.
Well, we tried.
“Turn,” the new guy says.
I glance at Johnny, his jaw tense for obvious reasons.
I take in the man’s face. It’s nothing special. Dark eyes. Dark hair. Cookie-cutter mob-looking guy. Forty-something, and probably wishing he’d gone to college instead of choosing this as a career path.
He taps around my ankles one last time and throws a thumb behind him toward the door Gleb disappeared into. “You’re good to go.”