Chapter Fourteen
Katriona
We pull up outside my apartment complex and slip inside my unit without a problem. A few people peek out, and as soon as they see my men’s grim faces, they quickly slam their doors and return to minding their own business. Until the next person comes walking through, I’m sure. No one around here can keep their noses clean.
“I won’t be long.”
I shove aside the embarrassment of having them see the dump I’ve called home for six months. It’s nothing new to them anyway. If they sat outside for even half of that, less even, they know the kind of neighborhood we are in.
Drake leaves the two enforcers who came with us downstairs, so no one is getting in or out without them knowing.
I dash off to my room and shed my uniform in favor of a pair of jeans, flats and a cute halter top that sparkles with tiny amber sequins that the sales lady said matched my eyes.
I stand in front of my mirror and flip my hair over to gather the long, thick mass in a top knot. When I stand back up, I nearly swallow my own tongue, which prevents me from screaming.
A brutish, rough hand clamps over my mouth, and I don’t need a proper introduction to know whose filthy hand is cutting off my air.
Marcus.
My closet door swings open, and another guy comes waltzing into my room. The one feature I loved most about this tiny apartment is going to be what gets me killed.
Like hell. I have finally found my happiness. I’m not going out like this. My fear quickly turns into rage.
I kick out, not really aiming for anything and when my foot hits my dresser, glass crashes to the floor.
Heavy footfalls carry through my apartment, and I scream around the sausage fingers covering my mouth.
Muscles pulls out a gun with a long tube at the end.
Oh shit. He’s finally going to get what he wants.
I draw my feet up, and the sudden shift of weight knocks my captor off balance, making his hand pull away from my mouth.
“Gun!” I scream and get a good backhand across the cheek for it. I can take it. The harsh force behind the hit knocks me against the door, and I fling it open, taking cover behind the skimpy sofa. Luckily it’s not pushed up completely against the wall. I don’t know where the men are, but I know a shootout isn’t new territory for them.
A deep voice bellows from my room. “You’ll pay for that, you little whore. Just like your father did. Nobody cheats me and lives.”
The words mean nothing to me, and I’m not about to answer him back and give up my position.
Several zings of metal against metal fill the silence and loud thuds thunder over the floorboards.
I duck around the edge of the sofa and catch Sylan just as he buries his fist into Marcus’s ugly, puckered face. Thug number two is taking aim from my bathroom door at Grey.
“Grey!”
I have a lamp in my hand, ready to swing when Drake busts through my front door, leaving it hanging on the hinges, and with murder in his eyes.
Two bears are barreling toward me from the right, and I’m caught in the middle of a gunfight turned all-out brawl. I duck behind a cement wall and am reminded of Sylan’s sister and how her refusal to listen to others eventually killed her. True, I don’t know the full story but I can relate. Sylan didn’t want me to come here, and I refused to hide in fear. I didn’t even try for a happy medium that would safeguard me and not place those who have sworn to protect me in jeopardy.
Sylan slams his fist into Marcus’ meaty face, blood spilling from more gashes than I care to think about.
How stupid of me.
Drake throws the second thug who I’m guessing is Marcus’s replacement as his right-hand man against the brick wall with a loud thud.
Marcus gets the same treatment with a pistol whip to the bridge of his nose.
Metal casings fall to the bare floorboards to my left, and I see Drake put a bullet in a third thug who came out of nowhere. He drops to the floor dead.