Chapter 19
Dimitri
SONG: DAYLILY BY MOVEMENTS
We were twenty minutes late to lunch because Giulia had decided the back seat of my town car was the perfect place to remind me why arriving on time was overrated.
"We're going to be late," I'd said when she'd climbed into my lap at a red light three blocks from the restaurant.
"So, we're late." Her mouth found my neck. "Maxim will understand."
Maxim would absolutely understand and probably never let me hear the end of it. But Giulia's hands were doing things that made punctuality seem like a theoretical concept invented by people with better self-control than me.
By the time we pulled up to the restaurant, my shirt was wrinkled, her lipstick was smeared, and her mascara had run down her face. She looked thoroughly pleased with herself.
"You're a terrible influence," I said.
"You love it."
I did. That was the problem.
The restaurant was one neutral territory where both families could meet without the usual territorial posturing.
I'd suggested it for Apolena to finally meet Giulia properly.
Maxim would be there as Apolena's guard.
A nice, civilized lunch where my wife could bond with my sister and nobody would get shot.
Simple.
We walked up the block hand in hand, having been dropped off a ways away after Giulia pointed out a bookstore she wanted to check out later. I was making appropriately interested noises when I saw the car.
Black SUV, tinted windows, engine running, parked directly across from the restaurant with a clear view of the entrance.
Wrong. Everything about it was wrong.
My hand went to the gun at my back. "Giulia, stop walking."
"What?"
Then the restaurant door exploded outward.
Maxim came through it backward. He had Apolena pressed against him with one arm wrapped around her waist and his gun in the other hand. Blood streamed from somewhere on his face. Three men poured out after them wearing masks and carrying weapons that were decidedly not concealed.
Time slowed. That thing that happens in life-and-death moments when your brain processes everything at hyper speed and the world becomes a series of tactical problems to solve.
Problem one: Maxim was outnumbered and wounded. Problem two: Apolena was exposed. Problem three: the SUV doors were opening and more men were coming. Problem four: Giulia was standing right next to me in the middle of what was about to become a war zone.
I pulled my gun and shoved Giulia behind a parked car in one motion. "Stay down. Don't move. Don't make a sound."
"Dimitri—"
"Stay. Down."
I came up shooting.
First shot took the lead man center mass. He went down hard. Second shot caught another in the shoulder and spun him around. Third shot missed because Maxim had moved, and I had to adjust trajectory.
The men from the SUV returned fire. Bullets sparked off metal and shattered car windows. People screamed and scattered. Someone inside the restaurant was shouting in Spanish.
I moved toward Maxim using parked cars as cover. Fired twice more. One hit. One miss. My mind immediately started calculating: Eight rounds left in the magazine. Spare mag in my jacket. After that things would get interesting.
Maxim dragged Apolena behind a concrete planter. She was screaming. High-pitched and terrified. The sound cut through everything else like a knife.
One of the masked men grabbed for her. Got a handful of her hair and started pulling.
Maxim put three rounds through his face at point-blank range.
The man's head snapped back. Blood and worse things painted the concrete.
He dropped like his strings had been cut.
Maxim didn't pause, just pivoted and shot the next man reaching for my sister.
This one took longer to die. The round caught him in the throat. He went down clutching at the wound and making sounds no human should make. Choking. Drowning in his own blood, feet drumming against pavement.
I'd heard those sounds before. They never got easier.
Two more men came from the SUV. Better trained than the first wave. They moved with purpose. Military bearing. Not street thugs. Professionals.
Fuck!
I dropped one with a headshot. Clean. Efficient. He was dead before he hit the ground. The other one got behind cover and started laying down suppressing fire. Rounds punched through car doors and spider-webbed windshields around me.
I dropped low and circled wide, coming up on his flank. He didn't see me until too late. I put two rounds through his ribs and watched him fold. Watched him try to hold his insides inside, then realize he was dying.
"Who sent you?" I stood over him.
He smiled, blood on his teeth. "Fuck you."
Then he died. Unhelpful to the end.
Movement in my peripheral vision. Another shooter. I turned and fired. Click. Empty.
Magazine change. Three seconds that felt like three hours. My hands moved on autopilot. Muscle memory from thousands of hours of practice. Drop mag. Fresh mag. Chamber round.
The shooter was aiming at Maxim.
I put four rounds into him but not before he let one shot off. I hit him center mass. He went down thrashing. Not dead yet but getting there. His gun clattered across the pavement. I kicked it away and checked for more targets.
The SUV peeled out, tires screaming, leaving behind two men who were too dead to care and three more bleeding on the pavement in various states of dying.
Silence. Sudden and absolute except for Apolena's sobbing and someone inside the restaurant calling 911.
I ran to Maxim. He was still upright and had Apolena tucked against him. But his left side was soaked red and getting redder. Three wounds I could see. Maybe more I couldn't.
"How bad?" I asked.
"Bad enough." His voice was strained. Tight with pain he wasn't showing. "But I'm still standing."
"Not for long. You're losing too much blood."
"Then I better sit before I fall down." He started to lower himself to the pavement. Halfway there his legs gave out. He went down hard. Apolena screamed and tried to catch him.
I grabbed him before he could crack his head open. I got him on his back and pressed my hands to the worst wound just below his ribs. Pulsing blood that meant something important had been hit.
"Stay with me, Max."
"Trying." His eyes were unfocused, pupils blown, and shock setting in. "Apolena?"
"I'm here. I'm here." She was beside me now. Pressing her hands next to mine trying to stop the bleeding. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely apply pressure. "Don't you dare die. Don't you dare."
"Not planning on it." He coughed. Blood on his lips. Internal bleeding. Lung maybe. "But if I do. Tell Dimitri—"
"Tell me yourself. You're not dying today." I looked at Apolena. "Pressure. Hard as you can. Don't let up."
She nodded and pressed down. Maxim groaned.
Giulia appeared beside me. She'd ignored my order to stay down. Of course she had.