“Got it, boss.” His hands grip the wheel tighter, and the Rolls lunges forward, slipping through a yellow light just before it turns red.
“Take the next turn left,” I command, eyes flicking between the mirror and the street ahead.
His whistling stops, replaced by the hum of adrenaline buzzing through the car.
I narrow my eyes, every muscle in my face tense and focused, watching the black SUVs close in like vultures circling a dying animal.
Two motorcycles appear in my mirror, weaving through traffic. Their helmets and dark jackets scream, “Not here for a joyride.” I don’t need a fucking degree to know we’re being chased.
“Seatbelt,” I order Clara, eyes fixed on the chaos behind us.
She doesn’t argue. The click of her buckle is immediate.
“Friends of yours?” she asks, voice steady despite the way her fingers grip the leather seat.
“Something like that.” I catch her eye briefly before turning back to the mirror. The SUVs are closing in, spreading out across the lanes like they’re trying to corral us. Sloppy. Stupid. “Maksim, take Chartres.”
Maksim cuts across traffic, the Rolls sliding through gaps that shouldn’t exist, drawing a chorus of blaring horns. Shopping bags spill onto the floor. Clara snatches a Chanel bag just in time, then ducks as the first bullet thuds into the back window.
“Bulletproof,” I assure her, but I don’t relax. “Stay down anyway.”
“Because that makes me feel so much better.” But she slouches lower in her seat, cursing under her breath as more shots ping off the car.
Maksim takes a hard right, sending the Chanel bags flying again. A black and white Chanel box ricochets off the passenger headrest, catching Maksim’s ear.
“Blyat!” He swerves slightly. “Boss, we’ve got—”
“I see them.” Two more SUVs up ahead, trying to box us in. They’re getting bolder. Or more desperate.
Clara’s watching me now, those sharp eyes catching every micro-expression. “This isn’t random, is it? They knew where to find you.”
“They knew where to findus.” I meet her gaze. “My brother sends his regards.”
Her face goes blank for a half-second before understanding hits. “Brother?”
A motorcycle pulls alongside us, the rider reaching for something at his waist. I grab Clara’s neck, forcing her down into the seat just as the gunshot cracks through the air. The bullet hits the window with a sharpping, leaving a spiderweb of cracks but nothing more. Bulletproof. Thank God.
“You never mentioned a brother,” she says into my thigh, voice muffled and tight with anger.
“Twin, actually.” I keep my hand on her neck, holding her down as Maksim swerves again. “Ludis always did have terrible timing.”
She goes completely still under my palm. Then she turns her head, her cheek pressing against my thigh, her lips dangerously close to the growing bulge in my pants.Great. My cock reacts instinctively, despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.Blyat.
“Twin brother. You have atwin brotherwho’s trying to kill you?”
“We can discuss family drama later.” Though knowing Clara, she’s already fitting this new piece into whatever puzzle she’s been building. “Maksim, lose them, or I’m cutting your pay.”
“Like you pay me enough anyway,” he mutters, but his next turn sends two of the SUVs crashing into each other.
Clara starts to sit up. I press her back down as something much bigger than a bullet hits the roof.
“I swear to God, Leonid, if we survive this—”
The rest of her threat is lost as the world tilts sideways. Maksim’s taken us onto two wheels, scraping past a delivery truck with inches to spare. The move tears my hand from Clara’s neck. She slams into my side, her head knocking against my jaw.
And that’s when the first RPG hits the building ahead of us.
The explosion tears through concrete and steel, raining debris onto the street. Maksim curses, wrestling the wheel to keep us steady. Clara’s hand fists in my shirt, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or fury, but she’s breathing hard, her pulse racing against my skin.
