Chapter 5
Trinity
In the empty construction site below, all hell breaks loose. As bullets whiz through the air, I rush toward the big panel windows for a better view of what’s happening. Before I can reach them, a solid body slams into my side, tackling me to the ground.
Seconds later, the foreman’s window shatters and glass rains into the room while my kidnapper anchors me to the floor beneath his weight.
Adrenaline courses through my limbs, fizzing under my skin like caffeine. As reality sinks in, my pulse pounds in my throat.
My captor just used his body to shield me. Sure, he protected me from immediate danger earlier, but there’s a huge difference between threatening his own man and putting his life on the line by placing his body between mine and a hailstorm of gunfire.
I struggle to regulate my breathing as his rugged musk crawls up my nose and the insane heat of his body radiates against my skin.
He rolls off me and into a crouch, glass crunching underneath his feet. Gun in hand, he plasters himself to the wall and peers through the window.
Pop pop pop!
I duck my head and cover my face as more bullets fly, one sluicing into the plaster right behind me.
Holy shit.
My heart threatens to pound straight out of my chest. What do I do? I’m not a fighter. I’m an observer.
I need to calm myself and think. There are enemies with weapons downstairs, and a guy is crouched outside our window. The exit is to the right, but I can’t move.
I’m a liability because I can’t even run to protect myself.
Self-loathing seeps through the fear, souring my stomach.
What would Finn do? My father?
Is this how Angelica felt?
“In here!”
The gruff voice of an unknown adversary reaches my ears milliseconds before the foreman’s office door explodes open. Armed men in mercenary fatigues flood the room.
Panic bleats through me as my kidnapper surges forward and fires.
The first two men who stormed through the door go down a few feet away from us, their bodies thumping to the floor. At the sight of blood and brains trickling from the holes in their heads, bile burns the back of my throat.
Pounding footsteps follow. Men shout in a rough language I don’t recognize.
My kidnapper doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by the bedlam unfolding around us or our horrible fighting odds.
He moves as fluidly as water, unstoppable as he tosses a man over his shoulder. Then he grabs a second attacker’s arm and spins him toward his friends.
Amid all the chaos, he’s a beacon of serenity. Witnessing the way he cuts down these adversaries eases the stranglehold that fear has on my body. I hate to admit this, but the guy’s an artist. Watching him fight is like watching a creative master at work.
He barrels into a file cabinet like a linebacker, toppling the whole thing onto three of the assailants. He doesn’t stop, just keeps cutting through attackers like a knife through warm butter. The fwump of falling bodies, the tang of rust as blood spatters, the rumble of each stomp and shot…
The reality of pointless death smashes into me like a freight train. My stomach flips, and I cover my mouth to suppress vomit.
I lived with a mafia family for the first twelve years of my life, but I never saw anything like this. Another man crumples, his bloody gaze staring straight into my soul.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I stay curled up in the fetal position, they’ll forget—
Thick fingers close around my elbow and jerk me to my feet. A tall, bulky man with a dirty face grins, leering at me with one white, sightless eye. “The boss’ll be happy to get his hands on you.”
Sheer terror blasts through me, stalling my heart.
What the hell is this, Kidnap Trinity Day?
I scream, swinging my bound hands at the man’s head. He catches them and laughs, the stench of booze and cigar smoke blowing over me.
Shit, shit shit…
My original captor flies at my new one with an unfettered roar. He slams One Eye’s skull against the wall behind us. After wrestling him into a headlock, Kidnapper One proceeds to slit Kidnapper Two’s throat with a Swiss Army knife to the soundtrack of a terrible crunch.
Hot, oil-thick blood spurts from the severed artery, splattering bright red designs on him, me, and the floor as the other guy collapses.
I remain frozen while a dead man’s blood drips down my cheeks and clothes, my stomach swooping as I struggle to swallow the acid rising in my throat.
My eyes flick to the kidnapper-savior panting beside me. “Who are you?”
He grabs my arm in an iron grip, forcing me back into his orbit. “Ask me again if we survive this.”
A quick inspection reveals that no one else remains standing. The room reeks of gunpowder and copper as we shuffle through the foreman’s office door to the landing outside. A squad of mercenaries approaches us from the ground floor.
I shuffle back, a not-quite-scream caught in my throat.
“Time for a little field trip.” My kidnapper pivots toward me. “Give me your foot.”
“What—”
“Now!” He clasps his hands together near my calf like a step.
After I shove my foot into his palms, he tosses me onto the low roof of the foreman’s trailer with the force of a male cheerleader. With a loud thump, I land on my back, staring up at the open sky as I catch my breath.
I barely register him scrambling up onto the platform behind me until he clutches my wrists. “Let’s go!”
Yanking me up by my bound hands, he jogs us toward the far edge, where a set of scaffolding climbs up the edge of this unfinished husk of skyscraper. He pushes me upward. Once we’re standing on the open-air structure, he flings me behind a stack of drywall and concrete bags.
“Stay put if you don’t want to die.” Spinning away from me, he reloads his gun.
I shudder and close my eyes as he rattles off several quick shots. Every time a bullet glances off metal, my ears ring.
Gunpowder coats my tongue.
How much more of this is there? How many men have to die?
Why are they all hunting me?
After a few moments of silence, I risk a peek. Tall-Dark-Kidnapper checks his weapon, then grabs the back of my neck.
“Wait, what are we—”
“This way.” His grip tightens as he guides me along.
I don’t peer down. I know I’ll just see bodies.
As we travel from cover spot to cover spot, my pulse continues galloping. He jerks me around, barking orders every few feet.
Stay down. Watch it. Hurry up. Got a death wish?
The orders soon start to blur together in my head. I’ve spent lots of time around enforcers like Finn and his friends, but this guy is different. He seems solely built for combat.
Part of me wants to snap whenever he issues another command.
Another, deeper part tingles with each sharp instruction, igniting sparks of arousal in my body.
Stupid or not, some primal instinct rooted in my psyche likes the fact that he’s capable and strong.
“They’re getting away!” A man points as we jog across the second level of this monstrosity.
“Get back!” My kidnapper pushes me behind him as he ducks into the shade of an industrial-grade column to exchange fire with the men below.
Safe behind his broad shoulders and outside the action for a moment, my brain finally starts functioning again. I hold my breath and take stock of my surroundings.
A few feet away, tucked into the corner of the wall behind me, a rectangular chute juts out of the drywall. An emergency stairwell.
My freedom.
After considering the option for a fraction of a second, I bolt. I haul ass across the platform toward the staircase and descend the steps as quickly and carefully as I can without using my arms for balance.
Once on the ground, I manage to slink through the shadows and get the hell out of Dodge. As quietly as possible, I head back toward the street—
Oh god.
A boulder forms in my stomach.
The big man who slapped me lies on the ground, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. Several paces to his left, the one with the man-bun slumps against a barrel.
Both are dead, blood pooling beneath them.
Swallowing a scream, I race away from the construction site and into the heart of Koreatown.
A series of small, sketchy, almost derelict businesses with Hangul crammed on the signs litters my side of the street. Metal gates block nearly every entrance.
No cars pass by on the empty road. No one walks the sidewalks. No Good Samaritans in sight to ask for help.
And even if I could, I wouldn’t involve the police. Mafia and cops don’t mix.
Shit.
My shoulders sag. I need to cut my bindings, but…
I have no clue where to go other than far, far away from here.
Panic spurs my limbs forward. Soaked in sweat and with my chest aching from all the exertion, I run wildly, determined to escape.
I will not end up like Angelica.
And I won’t let her death be for nothing.
Tears blur my vision as I race down one street and then another. I take a hard right around a corner, my legs pumping, and smack straight into someone for the second time today.
I stumble back, nearly falling on my ass.
“I’m so sorry, I… Could you help me? I was just attacked, and…”
My voice trails off when I recognize this pedestrian’s fatigues, and horror grips my chest.
I’ve sought help from one of the mercenaries.
Muttering in what seems like Russian, the man withdraws his gun and aims right between my eyes.