Chapter 19
Brody
I awaken, fully alert, after the deepest rest I can recall in recent memory.
Frozen stiff, lying on my side, I strain my ears and pick up the early morning cries of vultures and the soft, slumbering breaths of Trinity, who’s still asleep beside me.
My mind races back to last night.
I was stupid to climb into bed with my enemy. Reckless.
I should have left it alone after she fought me off, but Trinity’s defiance only allured me more.
I’m ashamed to say that pushing past her boundaries last night was worth it.
She gave me a divine hand job.
This woman is something else.
For a few moments, I just watch her sleeping face.
Trinity Gallagher was just a regular college student on her way to living a normal life. Not a mafia princess. Not a spy or an enemy or anything else.
Guilt pinches my stomach, leeching like poison through my system.
Trinity suffering because of the feud between the Port Kings and the NYC Kings hardly seems fair.
Enough. My father’s steely voice reverberates through my mind. Empathy is weakness.
I can’t go easy on this girl just because she’s got a magical left hand.
To be honest, I’m really pissed she got me off but didn’t come herself.
She might deny it once she wakes up, but I know a power play when I see one. She resisted me, all the way to the end.
Going forward, that will stop if I have anything to say about it.
I rise from the mattress. Trinity doesn’t stir until I’m on my feet and peering down at her.
Her eyelids peel back and then she blinks at me, her green eyes hazy with slumber.
While witnessing her come back to life, my stomach clenches with hunger pains so sharp, I’m sure my body will eat itself. “Hey.” I snap my fingers in her face. “In the next ten minutes, you and I are going downstairs.”
She groans and pulls the duvet over her head. “Don’t you know how to sleep in?”
I ignore her and beeline for the en suite bathroom.
The sooner I throw some water on my face and wake all the way up, the sooner I can get downstairs, cook breakfast, and fill my stomach.
I guess all our late-night fun left me starving for more.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I head into the closet and pick out an outfit for myself. Dark jeans. Black shirt.
A decent-sized weapons trunk with tactical gear, guns, ammo, and holsters sits on the closet floor.
Good thing the place is well-stocked.
Never know when that might come in handy.
Once I’ve dressed and armed myself, I re-emerge from the closet and find Trinity sitting on the bed, her eyes still bleary. Mussed coppery hair crinkles at odd angles, and dark circles shadow her unamused green eyes.
An odd sensation tickles the back of my neck.
“What is it?” Trinity covers her mouth as she yawns.
“Nothing.” I shake off the strange feeling and grab my phone from the windowsill. “Come on.”
I lead Trinity back down to the first floor, a sense of premonition still all over me. As soon as we reach the bottom of the staircase, Trinity wanders toward the den, yawning again, and plops down on the couch.
I survey the space, anticipation singing through my blood—
Clank.
“What was that?” Trinity sits up on the couch, swinging her head around.
Another clank echoes through the room, then a third and a fourth.
The clang of metal falling down the chimney grows louder until a little silver canister rolls onto the hearth.
A heartbeat later, smoke leaks from the top of the can with a piercing hiss.
Tear gas? Or just smoke bombs?
Either way…
Fuck, fuck, fuck, we’re in trouble.
I sprint toward the kitchen, yanking open the cabinet under the sink to grab gas masks.
When I straighten, ice slices through my chest.
ATVs approach the farmhouse from all sides, gliding through the desert morning like an invading horde.
How the hell did they find us?
I inhale through my nose, forcing down the quick rush of fear.
I can handle this. I’ll figure out where they came from later.
“Brody!” Panic vibrates Trinity’s voice.
I race from the kitchen toward the den and grab her by the shoulders.
“Get down!”
I tackle her and roll us both onto the floor.
Her heart gallops against my chest.
“Brody, what—”
“No time.” I grasp the back of her head and tuck it down under my arm.
A blast detonates from the south side of the house, shaking the foundation beneath us.
Raining wood splinters through the air as the front door implodes.
Another explosion thunders from the kitchen, rocking the couch at my back.
The smoke from the cannisters envelops us, but I’m still breathing fine.
No gas, then.
Just a distraction.
A symphony of angry, militant footfalls echo through the house.
Mob soldiers swarm with automatic weapons cocked and ready to murder us.
As the room goes hazy, my entire system shifts into overdrive.
I watch as Russian goons circle the living room. Dressed in all black, they point their guns directly at us.
Twelve of them in total.
If they didn’t each have submachine guns, these would be my kind of odds.
Near the giant hole in the wall where the front door used to be, two men step aside. A third man strides between them.
A tall, thick guy with a scarred jaw and deep, black, exacting eyes.
His brown hair’s shaved short, as is his beard. He carries a coldness in his gaze and in his shoulders.
I’ve seen that affect a million times.
The more a person kills, the more they detach from their humanity, and the darker their gaze becomes.
Until nothing’s left but a demonic, chaotic, killing force, fed and satisfied only by more bloodshed.
I’ve always vowed never to become a man like that.
A man who’s gone past the point of no return.
But Andrei Kruschev obviously doesn’t share those worries.
With his men standing at attention, Andrei leisurely approaches us, a mirthless smile spreading his face wide. “We meet again, little king.”
That comment’s directed at me, but I don’t respond. I don’t even move.
Right now, I’m lying on top of Trinity’s body like a human shield. If these Russians plan to take her alive, as I suspect they intend to, they won’t risk shooting me while I’m on top of her because the bullet could pass through.
Which would be a real shame.
“This didn’t have to be so difficult.” Andrei saunters closer, hunching down so he can get in my face. “I understand you made quite a mess of our friends back in Koreatown.”
“Occupational hazard.” I lock eyes with our party crasher, adrenaline pumping through my system.
We all know no one’s leaving here without a fight.
The only question is, who’s coming out on top?
While I’m on my home turf, I’m outnumbered and outgunned.
Not great odds.
A muscle in Andrei’s jaw twitches. “You’re a formidable opponent, Brody. I admit that freely. So I’m not going to waste your time. If you give us the girl, I’ll kill you quickly. Resist, and this will be painful.”
“Tell me what you want with her first.”
Andrei tilts his head to one side, looking down on me from his perch. “I would have thought that was quite obvious.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” I whip my gun out of my holster and fire three bullets straight at Andrei’s chest.
The bulletproof vest he’s wearing won’t save him from blunt force trauma.
Andrei staggers back from the pain, gasping for breath. “Kill him!”
Soldiers flood in, but they’re still not firing.
Mind flying, I realize my proximity to Trinity is my one and only advantage.
Well, don’t mind if I just use that.
Three Russians charge me at once.
I shoot the first in the knee.
The wiry man releases a feral roar of pain, his stride faltering.
One down.
I aim a roundhouse kick at the second assailant’s helmet, sending him sprawling into the third.
In the brief scuffle that ensues, they headbutt each other.
Capitalizing on their distraction, I shoot the wounded one in the head, rip his gun free, and use it to fire on the other two. I follow that up by spraying bullets around the room.
Russian soldiers shout, dodge, and throw themselves behind furniture.
The adrenaline pumping through my blood keeps my mind clear as crystal.
I know what I need to do.
Keep Trinity safe. Get us both out of here. Find a new place to lie low before contacting Declan.
I yank Trinity to her feet, shove her behind me, and back both of us up toward the kitchen.
She needs to get as far from the fighting as possible, even if that means separating from me.
Though my gut tugs at the idea of letting her out of my sight, the thought of her dead body sprawled on the floor is worse.
My mind splits in two. Keep her close and risk messing up, or keep her safe and risk losing track of her?
The basement door is right beside the kitchen. Bulletproof. Soundproof. Fireproof.
The answer’s obvious.
If I can get her on the other side of that door, she’ll be safe, and I won’t have to babysit her and save our lives at the same time.
The remaining Russians approach, slow, deliberate, and unbothered.
At Trinity’s scream, I whip around. A goon hidden in the kitchen has Trinity in a headlock. Bullets fly at my turned back.
Dropping to the ground, I spray gunfire behind me.
“I’ve got her.” The man yanks Trinity toward Andrei with a stupid grin on his face.
Didn’t I teach these assholes already?
Don’t touch what’s mine.
I roll behind the bar counter and fire. The bullet slices through the idiot’s ear and straight out the other side of his skull. He wilts, falling away from Trinity as she croaks out a nauseated whimper. The sorry sack’s brain matter paints the wall to her left.
She’s green around the gills and spattered in blood but unhurt.
I leap up from the floor and damn near tackle her down the short hallway beside the kitchen.
Russian shouting follows us, but I barely notice. I haul her to the door that leads to the basement bunker and shove her inside so viciously, she nearly tumbles down the stairs.
“Lock this door, and don’t come out until I come and get you.”
“Brody, wait!” The panic in her green eyes is the last thing I see before I slam the door in her face.