Forty-Three
Kaiden
It takes a moment for me to recover from the shock of my two worlds colliding in the most spectacularly devastating style.
I can’t remember when anything ever had me so firmly on the back foot. Not since that bastard Eduardo took me forcibly from my mother and my home and unceremoniously deposited me into the hands of the Viper.
I’ve worked hard to ensure I’m never caught off guard like that again, but maybe that only worked because nothing ever meant as much to me as Aspen. But hell, I did not see this coming.
Shaking myself, I move to take off after my wife. I need to make this right. But of course, the universe still hates me, because that’s when everything goes to shit.
Tina starts screaming, panicking the rest of the girls. Kitty is throwing up in the bathroom. And there’s no sign of LaToyah, who’s been looking after Tina along with Kitty. The former being unsurprisingly skittish with anyone else.
Still, Aspen is my priority. I can’t let things between us escalate any more than they already have. I refuse to lose her again, and enough damage has been done that I know I already have an uphill battle on my hands.
I’m about to engage one of the other women to look after Tina when the unmistakable sound of shots being fired makes my blood run cold.
The girls, already panicked, all dive for cover, and I pull my Beretta out of my shoulder holster and my phone out of my pocket, before carefully making my way towards the noise, while hoping like hell that Aspen got out of here before shit went down.
What the fuck is happening?
Before I shoot my weapon, I shoot off a quick message to Mika.
Shots fired at Prospect House.
Then I pocket my phone, making sure the ringer is silenced, and creep along the corridor towards the commotion.
I edge along the wall, weapon raised, every nerve ending on high alert. The screaming has stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that’s somehow worse. My heart pounds against my ribs as I approach what is now the women’s private quarters. How the hell did anyone get back here?
Another shot rings out, followed by the sound of breaking glass.
I flatten myself against the wall, risking a quick glance around the door frame. What I see makes my blood freeze.
Two men in ski masks. One has his weapon trained on the doorway, but he’s doing a piss poor job, because his eyes are on the other guy who’s looming over Tina, gun raised, ready to fire.
I know an assassination attempt when I see it, but despite the noise he’s already made, the idiot seems to feel he has to say his piece first. Not that he’s talking in a language Tina would understand, so whatever soapbox this piece of shit is on is doubly pointless.
“Тupaya suka” he spits. “Ty dolzhen byt' mertv”
Dumb bitch. You're supposed to be dead.
I listen closely to the dialect just to be certain it’s not one of the other Slavic languages, but I’m damn well sure. Fucking Russian!
And now I’m faced with impossible odds. If I shoot the asshole to save Tina, it gives the other guy a shot at me. All I can do is hope I manage to move fast enough for it not to be fatal.
There’s a chance. The bozo really isn’t concentrating.
I take a breath, steady my aim, and fire.
The shot catches the guy standing over Tina square in the temple. He drops like a puppet with cut strings, and despite her injuries, Tina ducks for cover. Survival is a powerful motivator.
In a split second, I’m moving, throwing myself to the side as his partner finally wakes the fuck up and squeezes off two rounds at where I was standing moments ago.
The bullets embed themselves in the door frame, sending splinters of wood flying. I hit the ground hard, shoulder first, rolling behind a heavy wooden dresser as more shots pepper the wall above me.
“Ublyudok!” The remaining shooter screams. Bastard.
I count his shots. Four. Five. Six. Most handguns hold fifteen to seventeen rounds, but I can’t be certain what he’s carrying. I need him to waste more ammunition, get sloppy, give me an opening.
Tina is sobbing now, a broken sound that makes rage burn hot in my chest. These fuckers came into our territory, hurt our people, and now they’re trying to finish the job.
Not on my watch.
I hear footsteps - the shooter’s moving, trying to get a better angle on me. I risk a glance around the edge of the dresser and spot him advancing, weapon sweeping the room in an amateur arc. He’s moving too fast, too angry. Good. Angry means mistakes.
I can see he’s torn. Looking between me and where Tina is hiding, wondering if he should finish the job he was sent here to do. If he turns back to her, I’ll have a clear shot, and I’m pretty sure I can get a shot off before he can.
Unfortunately, he’s at least got enough smarts not to take his attention off of me completely.
I wait until he takes another step, his focus shifting toward where he thinks I’m hiding. In that second, I pop up and fire twice in rapid succession.
Figures that the guy isn’t as slack as he appears. Either that or he got off a lucky shot.
Fire burns through my shoulder, and I stumble backwards at the force of the caliber he’s packing. The world tilts sideways, and I’m suddenly on one knee, my gun arm wavering. Through the haze of pain, I see the shooter grinning beneath his mask, moving in for the kill.
Fuck that.
I fire again, this time center mass. The bullet catches him in the chest, and he staggers back, surprise replacing the cockiness in his eyes, but he doesn’t go down.
Fuck my life! He has body armor.
He raises his weapon, and I try to squeeze off another round, but it goes wide.
My shoulder is screaming, blood seeping through my shirt in a warm, sticky rush. The adrenaline that kept me moving is starting to fade, leaving nothing but white-hot agony in its wake.
A whimper from behind the bed pulls his attention, and I try to focus through my double vision as the room starts to spin.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
If anyone asks what happened next, I don’t think I could answer if my life depended on it.
More shots are fired. I have no idea where from, but the Russian dude goes down this time and stays there.
I force myself to my feet, swaying slightly as I attempt to move toward the fallen shooters. Need to confirm they’re dead. Need to secure the scene. Need to…
I catch myself against the wall, leaving a smear of blood on the cream-colored paint.
Footsteps thunder down the hallway. Multiple people. Friend or foe? I raise my weapon with my good arm, but it’s getting harder to focus. The edges of my vision are going dark, tunnelling down to a pinpoint.
“Kaiden!”
The voice is familiar, but I can’t quite place it through the ringing in my ears. Someone grabs my good shoulder, steadying me, and I blink hard, trying to clear my vision.
“Jesus Christ, you’re hit.” It’s Devin. What the fuck is Devin doing here? Why would anyone send him? He’s an IT specialist, not a soldier. About as much use in a fight-out as a chocolate teapot.
“Tina,” I manage to get out, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth. “Behind the bed.”
He moves past me quickly, weapon still drawn, checking the two bodies before approaching where Tina is hiding. I hear him speaking to her in low, soothing tones, but the words blur together into meaningless sounds.
I slide down the wall, my legs no longer willing to support my weight. The gun slips from my fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. Should probably pick that up. Should probably do a lot of things.
“Hello?!” Devin’s shouting now. “Someone get help! Kaiden’s been shot!”
There’s movement all around me, voices overlapping, hands touching me. I try to tell them I’m fine, that the shoulder wound isn’t that bad, but my voice won’t cooperate. Everything’s getting distant, like I’m underwater.
Kitty’s face swims into view, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying, but she’s got that steel in her expression that I’ve always admired. The same steel that’s kept her alive through hell.
“Don’t you dare die on me, Brooks,” she says, her hands already pressing something against my shoulder. The pressure sends lightning bolts of agony through my entire body, and I can’t suppress the groan that tears from my throat.
“Not... planning on it,” I manage to rasp out.
“Do we need to call an ambulance?” Devin’s voice cuts through the chaos.
“What the hell are you thinking?” Kitty says sharply. “An ambulance will bring the police. And besides, he’s losing too much blood. We need to get him to the compound. They have a medical facility there.”
“Fuck!” Devin curses. “Do what you can and let’s get him to my car.”
Kitty’s medical training has already kicked in, and she’s way ahead of him, but something’s nagging at me. Why would Mika send Devin? He’s a freaking programmer. And how did he get here so fast?
Or did he? Time’s doing weird things. Feels like hours. Or maybe seconds.
I try to hold onto consciousness, but it’s slipping through my fingers like sand. The pain in my shoulder has gone from burning to a dull, throbbing ache that pulses in time with my heartbeat. Or maybe that’s just the blood pumping out of me.
“Stay with me, Kaiden.” Kitty’s voice cuts through the fog. She’s pressing something against the wound, but I can barely feel it anymore. That’s probably not a good sign.
Devin’s face appears above me, and I try to focus on his features. When did he get so blurry?
“We need to move him now,” he says, and suddenly there are hands under my arms, lifting me. The movement sends fresh agony screaming through my shoulder, and I can’t stop the sound that tears from my throat.
“Easy,” Kitty snaps. “You’re going to make it worse.”
“Then help me get him to the fucking car before he bleeds out!”
They’re half-carrying, half-dragging me down the hallway. My feet barely touch the ground. Everything tilts and spins, and I have to close my eyes against the nausea threatening to erupt.
The only thing I know for certain?
Aspen is going to be real pissed.