I pulled the rifle strap over my head, and when the shotgun sang next, I dropped it. Just as I anticipated, a head peeped in the hole. My pistol was ready, and the rat’s beady eyes became a mushy hole.
Dropping to a squat, I moved again as the shotgun screamed, ripping hole after hole in the wall.
When it paused to take a breath, and the shooter to reload, I flung myself in the doorway and emptied my clip.
The shooter hit the floor with three others, but I had to dive back to safety when his friend opened fire on me with a handgun.
He was the only one left.
The hall blurred. I tried to blink it away, but a wave of nausea rolled through me. I slammed the fresh clip into the gun and clenched my molars tight. Fuck blood loss! I was not passing out until every single patched member was dead.
My legs shook as I tried to duck walk to an opening. I didn’t notice the ringing in my ears until the bastard’s war cry at the open door made me aware that he’d moved. The sound had been muted by my own survival instinct.
The trigger decompressed under my finger.
Two shots rang out.
As the world tilted sideways, my only thought was of my family—my son and my flower.
Chapter 35 – Poppy
The rattle of the door handle sent my eyes shooting wide open.
Dammit.I would have thought this light sleeping ended when Brady was a toddler, but it seemed my instincts kept me alert. A sleepy moan tugged at my throat, and I rolled over. Because I took more of the blanket with me, a small fist padded my back. Tossing the edge back over Brady, I prepared to doze back into the land of nod.
The bedroom doorknob twisted.
My eyes shot back open. I stared, ready to see what Ivan wanted. Was this a summons to a nocturnal tryst? My pulse pounded with a jolt of excitement.
“Poppy?” The voice that whispered my name was most definitelynotIvan’s.
Fear gripped me. The ice dashed away the luxurious anticipation. I sat up, peering into the crack.
“It’s Kiril,” the voice pestered. “Can you come out here for a second?”
I scrambled out of bed, pausing only to tuck in the sleepy bundle and smoothing back the mop of messy hair. Grabbing a sweatshirt, I tugged it over my top as I slipped through the door.
Kiril shut it and beckoned me to the kitchen. Something felt…off.
It wasn’t until he stopped under the light over the sink that I realized my instincts were spot on.
“Oh, Blessed Virgin, what?” I gasped, stepping forward to grab the back of the nearest chair.
“There was a fight.”
My heart stopped beating. Actually stopped. I covered my mouth with both hands, ignoring the pain shooting down my left side.
“Ivan’s alive,” he rushed to say.
I sagged into the chair. A weak thump pattered in my chest. It barely had the strength to bring the oxygen from my lungs to the blood capsules.
“But it’s not good,” Kiril finished.
I sucked a deep breath, lowering my hands to rub my chest. “Saints, man! Can’t you get a complete sentence out!”
Kiril jumped forward and tugged a chair out. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“You think?” I snapped. Sitting down only made it so I didn’t fall. The world still spun in jerky motions around me.
