9. Kiera
KIERA
Arnie's fingers dig into my arm like a vise, and he yanks hard, trying to drag me out of my apartment doorway.
"You think you can just ignore me?" His breath reeks of whiskey and rage. "You think—"
Training kicks in before panic does. All those self-defense classes. All the times my brothers wrestled with me, taught me how to break holds and fight dirty.
I drop.
My knees hit the concrete walkway hard, the sudden shift in weight and angle breaking his grip instantly. His fingers slide off my wet arm, and I hear him curse above me.
Then the world explodes.
The crack of the gunshot splits the night open. The sound is so loud, it feels like it punches through my skull. Something hot passes over my head, so close, I feel the displacement of air against my scalp, ruffling my damp hair.
A bullet. Someone just shot at me!
For a moment, I can't move and just sit there crouched in shock. If I'd still been standing, if I hadn't dropped to break Arnie's hold, that bullet would have hit me and I'd likely be dead right now, bleeding out on my doorstep in nothing but a damp robe.
I look up at Arnie. He's staring at me with his mouth hanging open, his face pale as death in the dim light. He's frozen, his hands still outstretched where they'd been gripping my arm seconds ago. For once, he looks as terrified as I feel.
"Kiera!" Multiple voices shout my name at once.
Heavy footsteps pound toward me from the parking lot. An engine roars as a car screeches to a stop somewhere close by. More shouting and the sound of car doors flying open.
I'm still on my knees, my robe gaping open with water from my bath dripping down my legs. My brain feels sluggish, still caught on the fact that someone just tried to kill me.
Two figures come running from the shadows of the parking lot. Even in my shocked state, I recognize them instantly. Emil, his powerful body moving with lethal grace, and Luca right behind him, his hand already reaching inside his jacket.
From the other direction, my brothers' car skids to a stop at the curb. I catch a glimpse of Kevin in the driver's seat, Devin beside him, Jack and Kaleb in the back.
Where the hell did they all come from?
Emil reaches me first, taking the stairs up to my second floor two at a time. He doesn't ask if I'm okay. He doesn't hesitate. He simply positions himself directly in front of me, his broad back blocking my view of everything else. His body is a wall between me and whatever danger is out there.
"Stay down," he orders, his voice hard as steel.
I try to stand anyway, I guess out of reflex. My mind isn't really functioning properly right now. My legs are shaky, my knees throbbing from hitting the concrete, but I need to get up. I need to understand what's happening.
His hand shoots out and presses against my shoulder, keeping me on my knees. The touch is firm, unyielding.
"I said stay the fuck down." There's no room for argument in his tone.
I crane my neck around Emil and see Luca with a gun drawn, sweeping the area with the practiced efficiency of someone who's done this a thousand times. The sight of the weapon should probably scare me more than it does, but right now, I'm grateful for it.
My brothers are trying to get out of the car. I can hear them shouting, see the doors opening.
"Stay in the fucking vehicle," Emil barks without turning around. The command in his voice is absolute, the kind of authority that makes people obey without thinking.
"Like hell," Kevin shouts back. "That's our sister!"
"And there's a shooter somewhere out here who just tried to put a bullet in her head." Emil's voice drops to something even more dangerous. "You want to give him more targets? Stay in the goddamn car."
The doors close. Slowly, reluctantly, but they close.
My heart is still racing, adrenaline making my hands shake. I'm on my knees on the concrete walkway outside my apartment, wearing nothing but a damp robe that's barely covering me, and Emil's large frame is blocking most of my view. I can't seem to make my body move properly.
I notice things in fragments. The way his shoulders are set, tense and ready. The bulge of his biceps where his arms hang at his sides. The fact that he's put himself between me and potential danger without a second thought.
My robe has fallen open more, and I'm acutely aware that I'm essentially naked underneath. Water is still dripping from my hair, running down between my breasts. I should care more about that, but I can't seem to focus on anything except the fact that someone just tried to kill me.
And there's Arnie, standing off to the side, looking as dumbstruck as I feel.
Finally, Luca returns. "Clear. Shooter's gone."
Only then does Emil turn around. He drops to one knee in front of me, and his dark brown eyes scan over me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. His gaze travels down my body, taking in my wet hair and the way my robe is barely clinging to my shoulders.
"Where were you shot?" His hands hover over me, not quite touching, like he's afraid of hurting me.
"I wasn't," I manage to say. My voice sounds strange, distant.
His eyes narrow. "The fuck you weren't. I heard the shot. Saw you fall to the ground."
"It missed." I point with a shaking hand toward my apartment door. "I dropped to get out of Arnie's hold and I guess I did that at the right moment. I actually felt the bullet go past my head!"
Emil's gaze follows my gesture, and I watch his expression change. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. There, embedded in the wall right next to my door frame, exactly at head height, is the bullet.
"Jesus Christ," he breathes. Then his eyes snap back to me. He reaches out and cups my face with one large hand, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. The touch is surprisingly gentle for someone who looks like he wants to murder someone. "You're sure you're not hurt?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. His hand is warm against my skin, callused and strong.
I should pull away. I should be focused on the fact that someone just tried to kill me.
Instead, I'm acutely aware of how close he is, how his body radiates heat, and how his eyes are locked on mine like I'm the only thing in the world that matters right now.
I finally manage to get to my feet, my legs still unsteady. My robe is soaked through now, clinging to my breasts and hips. Emil's hand immediately goes to my elbow, steadying me. The touch sends electricity up my arm.
And then I remember Arnie. I look around and find him still standing there, pressed against the wall a few feet away, his face the color of old milk. He looks like he might throw up or pass out. Maybe both.
Emil follows my gaze, and I watch his entire demeanor shift. The protective concern vanishes, replaced by something cold and lethal. He takes a step toward Arnie, and I instinctively grab his arm.
"He didn't shoot," I say quickly. "He was right here when it happened."
Emil looks down at where my hand grips his forearm. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the barely restrained violence coiled beneath his skin. When he looks back at Arnie, his expression could freeze blood.
"Get the fuck out of here," Emil says, his voice soft and infinitely more threatening than if he'd shouted. "If I see you near her again, I'll put a bullet in you myself. Understand?"
Arnie nods frantically and practically runs to his car. I watch him from the balcony as he peels out of the parking lot, tires squealing.
His hand still on my elbow, Emil guides me toward my apartment door. He ushers me inside, then closes the door behind us, muffling the sound of my brothers arguing with Luca outside, where the bodyguard, or whatever he is to Emil, is still refusing to let them out of the car.
My apartment feels too small with Emil in it. He dominates the space, his presence overwhelming. I watch him check the windows, the bedroom, even the bathroom, moving with the efficiency of someone trained for this.
"It's clear," he finally says.
I sink onto my couch, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving me shaky and cold. My robe is still damp, clinging uncomfortably to my skin. "What the hell just happened?"
Emil sits beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against mine. The heat of him seeps through the wet terrycloth. "Someone tried to kill you."
"I got that part." I run my hands through my damp hair, trying to process. "But who? Why?"
He's quiet for a moment, his jaw working. When he speaks, his voice is careful, controlled. "Your ex showed up. That's not a coincidence."
"You think Arnie tried to shoot me?" I shake my head. "He was right there. He looked as shocked as I felt."
"Maybe he didn't pull the trigger himself." Emil's eyes are hard. "But he was there to grab you. To drag you out. Someone else took the shot."
The pieces start falling into place, and I don't like the picture they're forming. "You think someone was waiting for him to get me outside?"
"Or waiting for an opportunity." His hand finds mine, his fingers wrapping around my cold ones. "Could be your ex hired someone. Could be someone who knows you're connected to me."
"I'm not connected to you," I grumble.
"You are now." His eyes meet mine, and there's no compromise in them. "And that means you're a target."
"So, what am I supposed to do?" The fear is creeping back in now, cold and insidious. "Hide? Run?"
"No." He reaches out and cups my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him. His palms are warm against my cheeks, his touch firm but not painful. "You marry me."
I stare at him. "What?"
"You have to marry me now," he says, his eyes locked on mine, his voice absolute. "It's the only way to keep you safe."