Chapter 40
Trinity
Tucked away beneath Zeus and three of his children, I stare at the man in front of me with one thought circulating through my mind.
Brody came back for me. Again.
More than anything, I want to kiss him, but the masks prevent me from grabbing him by the face and crushing my mouth to his. I can’t even smell him.
The heat of his hands bleeds through the back of my shirt, though. When the gunfire threatens panic and bodily harm, his strong arms ground me.
Brody came back for me, even when he shouldn’t have.
He’s battling the world to keep me safe, to ensure we can be together. He’s also kicking ass.
I love this monster of a man.
I don’t forgive him yet, not completely, but I will. Right now, I just care that he’s here.
With me. For me.
Brody fires one more shot, and then silence descends.
The orange gas settles on the cold, gray cement floors. Movement stops. Several minutes pass as we remain crouched in the dark, listening for danger.
Brody leans close to my ear. “I jammed another door open earlier. Keep the mask on until we’re outside, just in case.”
We slide sideways across the floor. Staying low, Brody rolls out from beneath the float first before gesturing me forward. I crawl out behind him, mindful of the heavy Glock in my hand.
Our footsteps echo softly as we creep past several floats—a green troll, a train engine, a giant trumpet—and Brody pauses to collect weapons from various hiding spots.
How the hell did he plan all this in such a short time? Guess “tactical” really is the guy’s middle name.
As we round a corner, a sliver of light ahead draws my eye to the propped-open door. The setting sun peeks through the tiny opening, casting a spotlight on the dust particles glittering through the air like snowflakes.
We’re so close to freedom. Just a few more…
The door crashes open to reveal a flushed Andrei, his empty hands clenched at his sides.
He glares at Brody and stalks toward us. “You!”
Seriously? You want to take Brody on again? He’s beaten you twice already…
Andrei grabs an old pipe from a scaffold and flings the metal at us.
I clutch Brody’s sleeve as icy fear ripples through me. Brody yanks me behind him, deflecting the pipe with his forearm. When the Russian charges, he pushes me out of the way. Andrei claws off Brody’s mask, then they start trading blows like cage fighters.
With the gas thinned out, Brody should be okay. I want to help, though. My fingers tighten around the gun, but I don’t trust my aim. I might hit Brody.
Frustration and fear swamp me. What can I do? I’m tired of feeling useless.
I yearn to fight. To protect the man who’s done so much for me.
To get a better view, I scramble up onto a nearby creepy clown float. Andrei punches Brody in the nose before dropping him to the floor. His blood sprays across the concrete.
I wince, my heart sinking straight into my shoes.
When Andrei aims a kick at Brody’s face, I barely hold back a scream. Quick as a viper, Brody catches Andrei’s foot and tugs. The Russian crashes onto his back. His skull cracks against the floor loudly enough to twist my stomach.
Stay down, asshole!
A shout echoes through the warehouse, and I whip my head toward the open door.
Grigori storms in, his gun raised.
He fires one shot, then two.
Three.
Bullets ricochet as Brody and Andrei roll across the floor.
Doesn’t Grigori care that he might hit Andrei? Is Brody’s death worth his own son’s life?
That’s probably what I hate about the mafia more than anything else.
All these men sit around scratching their balls and prattling on and on about loyalty that doesn’t truly exist. To them, the thing that really matters is the mission, greed, and pride.
If a son or daughter or wife or brother dies in the cross fire… so be it.
Pricks.
I could never live like that.
And neither can Brody. Not anymore.
My left hand still clutches the Glock. Raising the gun, I aim at the center of Grigori’s chest, use my right hand to support my trembling arm, and pull the trigger.
The recoil nearly tumbles me off the float. I grab the clown’s ridiculous hat and cling for dear life.
Grigori screams in Russian, his arm hanging limp at his side. I missed my target, but at least I diminished his fighting capabilities.
With his free hand, Grigori grapples for his gun. The weapon falls as his upper body tilts and crumbles.
Nausea rises along my esophagus, burning the back of my throat. Did I just kill a man?
I lurch over the side of the float and retch.
Nothing comes up but saliva, the nausea still churning my gut.
I glance away from Grigori’s limp body and slide down to the floor.
“Brody!”
He’s still wrestling with Andrei, who’s found a rope and pulled it taut around Brody’s neck.
Brody’s attempting to force him off, but he’s losing.
Fuck!
I can’t shoot Andrei. My aim clearly sucks, and I’m not taking the risk.
Think, Trinity! There must be something I can do…
The clown’s absurd face mocks me. Then I spot the lever just below its hand.
My eyes flit across the warehouse floor. Maybe if I… Yes!
I shove the metal with all my might, groaning as it gives way with a clunk, prompting the clown’s trailer to roll toward the fighting men.
“Brody!”
In the dim light, my man’s hazel eyes widen. With a horrific shout, he pushes backward. Andrei lands in the trailer’s path. The wheels barrel over his leg, pinning him down.
Andrei’s shriek reverberates through the warehouse. Dropping the rope, he collapses under the weight of the float.
Wheezing, Brody stumbles back.
I throw off the gas mask as I sprint to his side. Blood beads his neck like some gruesome Mardi Gras necklace, but he’s alive.
We’re both alive.
I grab his face, kiss him, and then back away just as quickly. “Oh, sorry, you need air—”
“I need you more.” He tugs me close, his thick fingers cupping the back of my neck.
Our mouths and tongues become one as I rake my fingers through his filthy, sweaty hair. I wish I could stay this close to him forever.
He nips my lower lip as he pulls away. I whimper, chasing his mouth.
“You’re so beautiful.” His hand brushes over my cheek, his knuckles tracing my skin. “I never should’ve walked away from you.”
“I did the walking. Never again.” I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips to his jaw. “You’re stuck with me now, mister. Don’t you dare even try to get away.”
“As if I could.” Crushing me to his chest, he buries his nose in my hair. “I love—”
A shot cracks through the warehouse.