Chapter 39 Andre
ANDRE
“You’re nothing but a useless whore,” a man yelled. “A pathetic woman, a traitorous bitch who’s just a waste of space.”
Blinking slowly, I let the angry slurs percolate into my mind. Slow to move, but snapping back into reality, I lifted my head.
“Fuck you. And get the hell out of here,” Sofia replied.
What in the fuck is going on?
In a zooming reel of memories, it all came back to me.
Going to the club and entering an instant gunfight.
The fury that Roberto Giovanni hadn’t shown up.
Disappointment that I’d come back to Sofia with the lingering threat of her uncle at large.
Then that weird, warm pain in my shoulder.
I’d been shot, and since then, I had been stuck in this sleeping spell.
Turning my head slowly, I saw the dart on a first-aid bag. It waited next to me, the canvas-like fabric spread open with blood coating the surface. Not a bullet, but a fucking dart of some kind. Maybe that was their backup plan. To lure me to their building to “talk” and capture me instead.
“Prepare to rot in hell,” the man growled.
Like fuck, she will.
It looked like one of the Giovanni soldiers had taken it upon himself to be a last-resort option in the fight. The lone man stood near the door, holding up a knife.
Sofia’s back was to me as I stood. With my heart banging wildly in my chest, hyped up on the fear of her within harm’s way, I lunged forward to wrap my arm around her.
Hugging her to my side, then urging her to step behind me so I could block her, she flailed her arm out.
A thin blade flew out of her grasp. She sucked in a breath, frightened, but I didn’t wait for her to find her balance.
This was not a time to take it easy.
There would be nothing nice and slow about this.
Following through with the momentum of rising and reaching her out of the way, I lifted my arm and aimed my gun at him.
Once.
Twice.
My finger tapped the trigger, and I sent a pair of bullets into the Giovanni’s head. They barreled into his brain, right between his eyes, and ended his life.
Sofia gasped again, clutching to my side, and I wavered to stay upright.
“Andre—”
“You fucking traitor!”
I turned from watching Sofia and checking her as my vision blurred again. She’d gotten that dart out of me. My blood coated her fingers. But the drug was still affecting me. It had to be, because I could’ve sworn I heard the devil himself.
“Andre.” Sofia didn’t gasp it with worry this time. She spoke clearly, with alarm, as she propped me up and kept me from tripping sideways. The fear of her being hurt had sobered me enough to shoot that Giovanni soldier, but I was woozy on my feet again.
She grabbed my hand. My fingers were still wrapped around the gun. With her cool fingertips over my wrist, she guided me to raise the weapon again.
I swiveled, swinging my gaze toward the door to realize it wasn’t in my imagination. It wasn’t a trick.
Roberto Giovanni stood there, his huge chest heaving as he sneered at Sofia.
“You fucking traitor,” he repeated. “You defy me. You fail to do as I say. And when my best soldier takes the risk to lead me here, you have the audacity to watch him be killed?”
You.
You’re dead.
You will be dead.
I couldn’t get my mouth to work. Breathing through the cottony dryness required too much energy. Licking my lips, I shook my head and leaned against Sofia. Her fingers stayed latched on my wrist as she raised my arm and guided my gun forward.
“You will pay,” Roberto said. “You will pay for your sins.”
Sofia tensed, growling lowly as she moved her hand over mine so she could press my finger over the trigger.
A gunshot followed. The loud noise sharpened my senses and jerked me out of this stupor.
She—we—missed. Roberto shifted to the side as a new hole appeared in the wall to his right.
Shaking my head to clear the fog, I drew a deep, steadying breath.
Roberto reached to his side, grabbing his gun.
But it was too late.
I focused.
Driven by the need to protect this sweet beauty who chose me, who fought for our love, I narrowed my eyes and redirected our hands. With her fingers wrapped around my hand, I aimed and fired.
I got him in the chest. Not trusting my clumsiness, I chose a bigger target and center of mass instead of the preferred headshot.
Nothing was clean about this.
Roberto staggered back, glowering at Sofia.
I stepped forward, and she held me up.
Again, I shot him. Right in the heart. The bullet tore through his hand to dig in.
Once more.
Another step forward.
I fired again.
Again.
He dropped to his knees and slumped sideways as blood streaked down his white shirt.
Moving together, with Sofia propping me up and her hand over mine, I emptied my gun into him.
“Andre…” Sofia turned from the grisly remains of her uncle. His vacant eyes stared at the ceiling. Holes littered his chest.
“He’s dead.”
Sofia nodded, paying attention to me as she guided me to sit again. Worried about me, frantic to stem the bleeding from my shoulder, she had her eyes locked on me. “Please, Andre. Take it—”
I grinned, lopsided and high. “If you tell me to take it easy…”
She furrowed her brow, guiding me onto the floor.
I smiled at her, drunk not only on the drug, but the elation that it was over.
I’d killed him. I had done my part in seeing to her safety.
Roberto Giovanni was dead.
His organization could crumble apart now.
Sofia was with me, never to be taken again.
As she fussed over me, pressing her hand to my wound and trying to keep me propped against the wall, I admired her tenacity. To do good. To help. Even if it meant standing up to evil and facing it square on.
She’d stalled that soldier. She’d tried to kill her uncle herself when I was unable to react quicker.
Because she loves me.
I winced at the pressure she put on my wound, knowing without a doubt that this was what it was like.
To be loved. To love. Wrapping myself with the security of her love, I accepted that no other details could matter anymore.
I didn’t care that she was Sofia Giovanni by birth. She’d chosen me and she would be my wife.
“Sofia Orlov…” I said sleepily, reaching out to cup her face. My fingers smeared blood on her cheek and I cringed.
She gave me an incredulous look. “Not tomorrow.”
I frowned. “But I love you.”
She huffed a laugh, muttering under her breath as she checked the flow of blood from my shoulder.
“You said you’d marry me tomorrow.”
With a sweet but exasperated smirk, she glanced at me. “I’m not marrying you when you’re drugged up and not with it.”
I smiled, letting the sweetness of her big heart piece me back together again. “I’m with you, sweetheart. Now and forever.”
Footsteps sounded, and she tensed, reaching for my gun. She turned to aim it at the door while keeping one hand on my shoulder.
Sergei ran in, lowering his gun as soon as he saw us.
“Oh, thank God.” Sofia gulped and sat back, relaxing now that help had come.
“No, thank you,” I told her, cupping her cheek again. Gazing into the warm love in her eyes, I cleared my throat. “Thank you for loving me.”
Her smile was a watery one as she seemed to hold back tears. Next to her, my cousin helped me stay upright. Tuning out his orders he barked into his phone for backup, I watched Sofia as she sighed.
“And I love you, my bride. My partner.” I reached forward to kiss her, but I was too off-balance and missing, smacking my chin on Sergei’s shoulder with him crouched low.
“For fuck’s sake…” he muttered good-naturedly.
Sofia’s light laughter soothed my soul.
“My wife,” I said, unable to stop expressing how profoundly relieved I was that her uncle was dead. Nothing could stop me now.
“Not yet,” she argued lightly.
“The mother of my children.” I reached out to put my hand on her stomach, but again, I missed.
“Hand me that blanket,” she told Sergei.
He gave it to her and she put it on my open wound.
“I want more.” I reached again to place my hand over where she carried our future.
“What I’d tell you, Andre?” she said, putting my hand over her still-flat stomach. “Easy.”
More men streamed into the room to assist. Before I was moved and taken to the clinic, I grinned at her.
“Nice and slow?” I guessed.
I didn’t care how she wanted me to behave as her patient. She could be my nurse anytime she wanted.
Never my maid.
Not my captive.
Just the woman that I would spend the rest of my life with, each and every day a trial of earning her love.