Maxim dives toward the massive wooden dining table a few feet from where we are behind the kitchen island and throws it on its side just as bullets pellet the polished oak.
“I thought you had security,” I scream over the sound of a million shots pelting the insides of Maxim’s beautiful oasis. I can’t help but feel guilty that all this is happening.
“I do. Be patient.”
“Patient? Tell that to the guys trying to kill us!” My eyes go wide in his direction but he’s already moving to my other side. Maxim opens the side cupboard and hands me two large guns that look like they would kill me if I tried to shoot them.
I shake my head vehemently. “Nope. Not for me. No. No. No.”
I shove them back at Maxim and reach for the handle of the cast iron skillet and huddle in place.
“I’m not big on the whole wild west shoot ’em up kind of thing.”
He takes the skillet and replaces it with a smaller revolver. “Try this. From my count, there are four of them. If they get past me, use the darkness. Hide as best as you can. When they find you, and they will, malyshka, don’t stop pulling the trigger until the gun is empty.”
My insides tremble with the implication of his words. “We need to work on your pep talk, buddy.”
His head is down and his fingers move over knobes and thingamabobs as he checks I guess to make sure the gun is loaded. Like I said I’m not much on weapons besides the one I run all the time.
“Don’t you have a panic room or something?”
“Or something, malyshka.” He takes my face and kisses me hard. “I made a promise. Remember that.”
He stands, moves away and all I hear is pop pop pop thump thump thump.
Didn’t he say there were at least four? I grip the handle of my revolver and crouch against the side of the kitchen island. My breath hitches and releases and surprise surprise my hands are trembling like leaves.
I crawl toward the edge of the table and risk a glance around the side.
Nothing.
I edge my way to the front of the house watching for the glass as I go. Maxim is out there risking his life for me. I don’t want to put myself in danger, but waiting inside is like waiting for death. I can escape into the thick foliage and hide until he and his team can secure the area.
I stop and listen. There’s no sound so he must have led them away.
I flip open the panel on the wall I saw him use to open the doors that seem part of the walls. I hit the one marked kitchen and as soon as the invisible door swooshes open, I realize I’ve made a big mistake. Huge.
The lights come back on and I am standing nose to barrel.
“Gracias, carina. I was hoping to find you. I knew it was too good to think you were left at the bottom of the ocean to die. I’ve been having a streak of bad luck lately and I hoped it ended with you but I see Novak can’t keep his nose out of my business.”
I raise my hands and the revolver is unceremoniously plucked from my fingers. “East Syndicate, I presume?” I’m feeling every last bit as sassy and frustrated as I sound. I mean, here I thought no one could find me in the middle of the freaking ocean on an island. Wrong.
A sexy looking Latino with messy black hair and a devilish smile glares down at me, cocks his gun, and presses it to my temple.
“Your business keeps spilling over into my territory, Torres. You and your brother should know better by now.” I want to freaking jump for joy that I’m not dead yet, but I know any move I make puts Maxim in even more danger.
“Hey babe, look who I found,” I say shakily. I angle my head toward the guy with the shiny custom Glock. “I think you missed one.”
Torres laughs and taps my head with the gun. “It’s going to be sweet having your fuck toy watch me kill you.” He leans in, pressing a sick kiss to my forehead and I swear if I could dick punch him right now without getting that promised bullet, he’d be seeing stars right now.
Unaware of my inner verbal war, Torres continues. “I’m sorry the first time trying to kill you didn’t stick. I assure you I’ve replaced those men with more competent ones.”
I look pointedly at the three dead ones at his feet. “Them?”
Torres shrugs as if their lives meant nothing. Bastard.
Maxim steps completely free from a cluster of large low-hanging palm fronds. A man gasps, clutching at Maxim’s hand wrapped around his windpipe, gasping for his last breath. My heart is pounding so violently that I can’t hear much over the rush of blood in my ears. It’s deafening and frustrating at the same time and I don’t know how to stop freaking out.