Chapter 40
ROMAN
“Stay down!”
More gunshots ring out. My gun feels useless in my hand. Returning fire would be pointless. I have no idea how many assailants there are, where they’re shooting from, or what their ultimate goal is.
Though the bullet holes in the marble above give me a damn good idea what they came here to do.
Amalie is shaking underneath me. Scared as hell but thankfully unhurt. I turn slightly to see Garin hiding behind a stone column, his drink smashed on the ground before him.
More gunshots. I hear the security staff yelling commands to one another, indicating the counterattack is in motion.
Nikolai looks scared out of his mind. He would’ve been my first suspect for planning such an assault, but he’d been so close to me when the gunfire began…
“Roman!” A voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
I look up to see Andrei, weapon at the ready, moving toward us. His head is down low, behind the cover of the balustrade.
He hurries to my side. “Is she okay?”
“I’m okay!” Amalie replies, her voice muffled against my suit.
“Good,” Andrei says. “What’s the plan?”
I give it a second of thought. “Get her inside to an interior room and barricade the door.”
Andrei’s eyes flash. “You think they’d go that far?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not taking any chances.” I turn to Amalie. “You hear that? Stay with Andrei.”
“Got it.”
The world I had sworn I’d never let her see again has returned. Nothing to do now but keep her safe.
“What are you going to do?” Andrei asks.
“Find out who the hell is trying to kill us. Now, go.”
I can tell by the look in Andrei’s eyes that he doesn’t want to leave my side. But he was given an order, and he will follow it.
“Come,” he says to Amalie, taking her hand. “Stay close to me.”
“Okay.” She rises reluctantly, glancing over her shoulder at me with worry in her eyes.
“Go,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
Andrei and Amalie disappear around a corner and are gone.
More glass explodes somewhere behind me. More screams. The place is total chaos.
Garin is gone. I move along the terrace.
The first thing that registers is that the shooters are sloppy. Amateur angles, too much noise. If this is a professional hit, it’s a bad one. The more likely scenario is that it’s a message sent spray-and-pray style.
When I reach the outside stairs, I sprint down them, coming out at the end of the valet lane and find more chaos—cars abandoned, doors open, alarms screaming. But I don’t see any bodies—a good sign.
A single gunshot pops off, hitting the building behind me. It’s a bad, wide shot, but one clearly aimed at me. I turn to see a pair of men dressed in black running from cover, one with a pistol in his hand, the other armed with a rifle.
The pair bolt across the Institute grounds and I give chase. When I get close enough, I can see that one is larger than the other, and slower. I go for him first. My lungs burn, my legs pumping as I chase, realizing they’re running toward a parked car.
He’s not going to reach it.
As I run, I raise my pistol in his general direction. Not likely I’ll hit him while running, but I fire anyway. The round hits the pavement ahead of him. He slows and turns.
Just what I was hoping for.
The distraction slows him down just enough for me to close the distance. He glances back again as I approach—another costly move.
When I’m near enough, I hit him low. Shoulder to ribs. We slam into a stack of plastic barriers, both of us going down hard. His gun skitters across the parking lot, landing underneath a car.
He tries to scramble to his feet, but I don’t give him a chance. My knee pins his chest.
I glance up; the other, faster man has made it to the car. He’s watching me on top of his partner with wide eyes, the rest of his face hidden behind a ski mask. I raise my gun and he hits the gas, driving for his life.
I turn my attention back to the man underneath me. “Who sent you?”
He spits blood, a tooth broken from the slam into the pavement. He laughs, sounding hysterical. “You think we know? You think I would tell you if we did?” He speaks with a heavy Russian accent.
I tighten my grip on his throat just a fraction. The laughter dies. “Wrong answer.”
Footsteps pound, coming close. I glance around and see Andrei. Behind him, security is locking down the perimeter. Police sirens draw closer.
“Names. Now.”
He shakes his head. I haul him upright, wrenching his arm behind his back until his shoulder is on the verge of popping. He screams.
“Names!”
“Screw you!”
Andrei approaches.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Inside. Safe. The cops are there and she’s with them. Didn’t want to leave you solo.”
I glance up at the parking lot. “Car is there?”
Andrei turns to where I’m looking.
“Yeah, far end of that row,” he says, pointing.
“Good. We’re taking him home with us.”
“Understood.”
Together, we carry the man. He thrashes and screams, but it doesn’t do him any good. It takes a little doing, but we soon have him at the back of the car. Andrei pops the trunk, reaching in and grabbing some zip ties.
In under a minute, we have the man tied, black-bagged, and locked in the trunk. I wipe the sweat from my brow, then flick the safety on my gun before returning it to my inner holster.
“She’s safe?” I ask again.
“Yes. Doesn’t look like anyone was hurt.” He nods to the trunk. “Aside from this poor SOB.”
I run my hand through my hair. “Take him home. Put him in the basement.”
Andrei’s eyes flash. He knows what that means. “Understood.” He slips into the car and drives off.
I want answers. And I’ll get them.
But first, I need to make certain she’s safe with my own eyes.