Broken: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance (Guns and Glory Book 3) Page 22

  For me and for our baby.

  I ran down the hallway, trying to follow the two men. I had seen them turn at the very end of the hall, heading somewhere that I couldn’t yet see. I had no idea how the warehouse was set up and was surprised that there seemed to be rooms and a hallway all on the second floor. I thought these places were just meant for storage, but it seemed like this one was actually set up like some sort of house.

  Had my brother maybe been living here? Or, at least, hiding out?

  That seemed pretty likely, which was kind of unfortunate. It meant he and his friend—Joshua, he’d said, though I didn’t know of any friends of Logan’s who were named Joshua—had to know this place a lot better than I did. Was there another staircase at the end of this hall? Did it lead up another flight or back down to the main floor? Was there a secret passage or a window they were going to jump out of?

  I couldn’t know, so I just ran and hoped I could head them off before they escaped. I had to get to them first, to reason with them before it all went horribly wrong. My heart told me Nikolai would win his fight and maybe that was just because I was so desperate to believe it, for him to be alive when this was all over, but I was confident of the outcome all the same.

  Which meant I didn’t have a lot of time to try to get through to Logan and this crazy Joshua guy. I hoped and prayed they would listen. The weight of the gun tucked into the waistband of my jeans, the one Nikolai had given me, reminded me I had some leverage. Maybe it would be enough to make them listen.

  I turned the corner into another hall and saw Joshua and Logan standing at the end of it, breathing heavily, talking to one another about something urgently. I hurried forward, confident now that I could finally talk some sense into them.

  Chapter 32

  Nikolai

  I took a hard hit to my jaw, making the bruise already there throb all the worse. The force of the blow sent me stumbling back until I hit the rickety old wooden table behind me. It couldn’t support my weight and ended up crashing down beneath me. A whoosh of air escaped my lungs harshly, thanks to the force of the landing. My back ached beneath me, pieces of chipped, splintered wood pressing into my skin.

  What a night.

  I would have been faring a lot better in the fight if I hadn’t been already injured. But my body was protesting the work I was forcing it to do and I wasn’t having as much luck with this man as I might have under different circumstances.

  He had to have had some sort of previous fighting experience. Maybe ex-military. They weren’t always the most intelligent of the bunch so I imagined it would be pretty easy to get dragged in with a few lowlifes like Logan and his little pal Joshua.

  Normally, I would call Mickey and ask for permission—or at least confirmation—that he wanted this man dead, too, but I didn’t have time to bother with such formalities. I’d kill him for free and, more to the point, I wasn’t about to stop in the middle of our scuffle to have a little chat with my boss.

  So, when the man came at me, roaring with rage that suggested he was probably dipping a little too heavily into the steroids, I let him come. It wasn’t until he was all but on top of me that I moved.

  Jerking my body to the side, I rolled halfway, then used my legs to sweep his out from under him. He didn’t see it coming. He fell to the floor, just managing to catch himself on his arms before face planting into the dusty, wooden floorboards.

  Cursing at me, he scrambled quickly to his feet, rounding on me. I did the same, rising quickly and facing him. I was trying to think strategy, but I knew this fight was taking too long. Fighting him hand to hand was proving to be a difficult task. Whether it was because I wasn’t up to my full fighting weight or because he was better than I gave him credit for, it really didn’t matter.

  I had to end this fight, quickly.

  Joshua and Logan had already fled the room and I was wasting precious time with this moron. If they managed to escape, I was going to find myself in trouble. At this point, I wouldn’t doubt if they decided to switch vehicles. Even morons had to assume that they were being tracked somehow and the easiest things to track were cell phones and cars. They’d probably dump Logan’s truck before I got another chance like this.

  No, I had to deal with this fight and end it now. No more screwing around.

  My eyes searched the room, debris coating the floor, dust flying around in the air. The bookcase to the left had been upended, what few small things had been on it now scattered about the floor, broken or at least damaged in some way. The table had already been crushed beneath my weight, the jagged pieces of wood poking out from the floor, daring someone to forget about them and fall on their splintered ends.

  I thought briefly about trying to get him down on one of those pieces, but that was a difficult task. Even if I could make him fall—which was unlikely given how big the guy was—it would take a lot of pushing to get that wood through his body. No, I needed something faster.

  He came at me then, tired of waiting for me to make my next move. His arms flailed, his fists swinging closer and closer to my face, but I was dodging him easily now. I was expecting his reckless, bar brawling attacks and they no longer unsettled me. Instead, my eyes kept scanning the room until they finally landed one the thing I’d been searching for.

  My gun.

  The man in black swung at me again and the gun had distracted me enough that he landed a hit to my shoulder, causing me to stumble backwards. But I didn’t lose my balance. Keeping my focus on him, but still aware of where the gun was, I forced him to dance. I came at him, throwing wild punches he was forced to dodge. It didn’t really matter to me if they landed; I only wanted to make sure he kept moving.

  It was working. Every hit sent him floundering backwards, unsteady on his large, bulky feet, mostly from the debris that coated the floor.

  Finally, I sent a shove to the middle of his chest. It knocked the wind out of him and caused him to stumble a little. He didn’t fall to the floor, but it gave me just enough time to make a dive for the gun. I slid across the floor, hand out, and felt the gun slide into my palm. As it did, I swiveled around, lying down on my back as the man regained his balance and came at me.

  He roared one last time, and then he saw the gun.

  I fired. The bullet tore through his head, sending blood and brain matter splattering out behind him, and then he was falling forward heavily. I rolled out of the way just in time to avoid his weight. He lay there unmoving and, judging by the large hole in the center of his forehead, I had the feeling that he wasn’t going to get up ever again.

  Not wanting to linger in the room with the dead man, I scrambled up to my feet. Launching myself down the hall where I’d seen Logan and Joshua run down, I pushed myself as fast as I could go. I was determined to catch up with them, though I knew that fight back there with the man in black had cost me a lot of time. There was a good chance I was already too late, that they’d escaped.

  Which was why I was deeply surprised to see that they had both stopped dead in their tracks at the end of the hall. And the reason why was that a pretty, sexy little woman with blonde hair and fierce blue eyes was pointing a gun—my gun—right at them.

  I was shocked, remembering I had told her not only to hide, but to run if it seemed like I wasn’t going to make it. I hadn’t even noticed her come in here and I was pretty sure she had to use the same staircase I had to do it.

  Pushing my shock aside, I forced myself to go faster, worry snaking its way through my system. She didn’t know what was going on. She hadn’t heard what they had said earlier. About her being a liability. She didn’t know Joshua wanted her dead—or that Logan had agreed.

  As I got closer, I heard their voices. Logan was trying to talk to Madeline, trying to calm her down. I could see now that her face was ruddy and teary.

  “Why would you do such terrible things?” she demanded angrily, the gun shaking in her tiny hands. “I…How could you leave me alone with Shawn? Did you know what he was going
to do?”

  Logan had the decency to look ashamed, but it was hardly enough to cause any sympathy on my part. I hoped it wasn’t enough to sway Madeline, either. “What? No, of course not. How could I know? I just wanted to make sure you guys stayed put, was all.”

  “Stayed put?” Madeline demanded, incredulous and angry. “So, you told him to point a gun at me and make sure I didn’t go anywhere? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He put his hands up higher, trying to show that he was no threat. But I knew better. He was dangerous and so was the silent, but ever present Joshua. I needed to get to them, now.

  “I’m sorry, Madeline, really,” Logan kept trying, taking tiny steps closer and closer to his sister. He was going to go for her gun, I knew it. “All this just got crazy and—”

  He reached for the gun at the same time that I shouted for Madeline to get away, to be careful. She jerked her attention towards me and that was when it all happened. Logan stole the gun from her grasp, yanking it away from her. To his credit, he didn’t whirl it back around on her and shoot, but what he did wasn’t much better. He stepped aside just as Joshua lunged for her.

  His hands went to her throat, locking around the long, delicate column. She barely even had the breath to get out a half a scream. She wrapped her tiny hands around his wrists, trying to pry him from her, but it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough.

  My vision blurred as terrible, sweeping anger raced through me. I wanted him dead. I wanted them both dead. I wanted to see Joshua bleed. I wanted to hear him whimper and plead and beg for his life, all the while knowing he wasn’t going to make it through the night.

  A roaring yell escaped my throat, unbidden, out of control, and I pulled my gun as I ran towards them. I shot Logan first, catching him in the gut before the little shit had the chance to run or fire back. He let out a cry of anguish that I relished in, before stumbling back and hitting the wall. There, he slumped down to the floor.

  The sudden shot was enough to distract Joshua long enough to pull away from Madeline. She scrambled back away from him, choking and wheezing, trying to pull in as much air into her lungs as humanly possible. Her eyes were watery and red rimmed, her neck bruised, and it only served to make me angrier.

  When I reached Joshua, there was no mercy. My fist connected with his face and that first blow had him reeling. It was the first of many. I hit him again and again. Sometimes with the butt of the gun, sometimes with my bare hands. I felt my knuckles split and bruise. I felt blood that was both mine and his splatter, drops hitting my cheeks and chin, tiny spots of rapidly cooling heat. And still I didn’t stop. When he began to slump beneath my anger, I grabbed him by the neck and collar, holding him up so I could continue my assault.

  It seemed like I had lost time. I couldn’t say how long I’d been hitting him, how badly I’d messed his face up. It was like Shawn all over again, but a thousand times worse.

  No one touches her, I thought, and finally, after a sickening crack that came from somewhere deep within his body, I let him go.

  He slumped in a bloody, mangled heap on the floor, near where Logan whimpered. Madeline’s brother bled from the wound in his gut, a wound that would eventually kill him. He was begging for his life, but these were meaningless sounds, meaningless pleas. Even if I would spare his life—which I wouldn’t, couldn’t after what I’d heard him agree to just earlier in that night—it wouldn’t matter. Short of some major surgery, he would die.

  No, all that was in store for him now was pain. Lots of it. It would be a mercy to kill him now.

  I wondered if Madeline would find it in her heart to see it that way.

  Turning to her, I reached out hesitantly, half expecting her to flinch away from me. I knew I had to look awful in her eyes. Blood, dirt, and bruises covering my face and hands, my shirt, my hair, my pants. I was covered in it. Filthy.

  But even as I reached for her with bloody, torn hands, she came to me. She ran to me, rushing into my waiting arms, sobbing and muttering incoherently. I clutched her to me tightly, ignoring the dead or dying bodies in the room, the moaning that still came from Logan’s lips and the wet, gurgling breaths that struggled to go into Joshua’s lungs.

  They were already dead to me, so instead I focused on the trembling beauty in my arms. At least she was still alive.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice starting out soft, relief still coating my words. But it was growing in intensity, anger sparking. I told her to wait in the car. “How could you come in here and risk your life like that? Risk the baby’s life like that?”

  I heard Logan manage to get out a surprised, “Baby?” but neither myself nor Madeline was listening by then. We only had eyes for each other.

  She sobbed, coughing a little because of the way Joshua had tried so hard to strangle her. Something that would keep me angry with him for a very long time, dead or no. When she’d collected herself enough to speak, she let out a shuddering breath and told me, “I heard a shout, I thought—” She shook her head, clearly upset. I rubbed her shoulders comfortingly, not caring that two men were slumped nearby dying. I hoped they would suffer a little bit anyway before I finished the job. “I thought you were in trouble,” she finished finally and a strange feeling washed through me.

  Madeline had come because she had been worried about me.

  There was no question in my mind that I would save her from anything and everything I could. I would take on Mickey and Zackary and the whole lot of them if I had to, just to save Madeline. I hoped desperately that it would never come to that, but if it did, I would be ready. But it had never really occurred to me that, perhaps, the favor might be returned.

  I had it in my head for a while now that she belonged to me, even before I knew she was carrying my child, but that was a one-way street in my head. Yes, she was physically attracted to me. Yes, she wanted me. And yes, she had been relieved to find me alive. But how much of that translated to something more? How much of her relief at my being alive was because I saved her from being raped?

  My thoughts darkened as I remembered the way I’d found her, the way she’d screamed drawing my attention to her in the first place, and I shuddered. It had been terrifying and angering all at once, and part of me was still surprised I had let Shawn live.

  If I ever saw him again, I promised myself he wouldn’t. I would let him walk now because he wasn’t a threat to Madeline anymore. She was with me and there she would stay, but the moment I saw him again, that would be the last straw. He would be a dead man walking.

  “You came for me?” I repeated, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears. Joshua made a wheezing, choking sound that I ignored. He’d be gone soon enough.

  She wiped at her tears, and nodded. “Yes. I know you…you told me to hide. You told me to run away if you didn’t come back, but I…I don’t want to be without you now.” Biting her lip, she looked into my eyes, something intense flickering in her clear, watery blue irises. Finally, with a helpless breath, she said, “I love you, Nikolai. I love you and I’d do anything for you. I…I couldn’t—”

  She broke off again, but it didn’t matter. She’d said enough. Her words filled me, snaking their way into the deepest parts of my heart, wrapping them up and soothing them, making them hers. I belonged to her as much as she belonged to me now, and I couldn’t help but feel that was exactly how it should be. It was more than I had ever anticipated. More than I had ever dared to hope for, but here she was, her full breasts lightly pressed against me, her blue eyes daring to look into mine, her heart-shaped mouth quivering, slightly parted…

  Yes, it was exactly as it should be.

  Then I heard Logan whimper again, and I let out a sigh. This was the thing that had to be done and my only regret about it was that Madeline would have to be here as her brother died. As I killed him.

  I hoped she could forgive me, could understand it was the thing that had to be done.

  Pulling her closer to me, I tucked her beneath m
y chin into the crook of my arm. Her head lay against my chest, her face turned away from the bodies that would soon stop breathing altogether. Holding her, I whispered softly, sweetly into her hair, “I’m sorry for this, Madeline, but it must be done.”

  I felt her tremble in my arms, but she didn’t protest as I lifted my right hand that still held the gun lightly. It was warm from being fired, the metal’s heat seeping into my skin. Madeline didn’t say anything as I aimed for her brother first, deciding to put him out of his misery—and to get rid of his continued moaning.

  I aimed for his head, both for the sake of mercy and because this was an execution. A bullet between the eyes was a message to all those who crossed Mickey: Don’t.

  I pulled the trigger and the shot rang out. Logan’s moaning stopped abruptly and I felt Madeline flinch in my arm, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t even sob, though I sensed that she was likely crying.