“Back,” I hissed to Valkyrie. “Boardwalk side. We fall back. Make him think we’re retreating.”
We started to edge toward the doors, moving behind toppled palettes and low temporary walls.
Vlad saw it.
He thought he was herding us backoutside into a trap as he began to walk toward us with Roman’s wife as his hostage.
Good.
We reached the boardwalk-side doors and opened them. The night air hit like a slap. Colder out here. Salt thick in my nose. The boardwalk spread out around us—wide planks, empty stretch, lights from the other casinos painting the horizon.
We dove behind a stack of wrapped patio furniture just outside the doors as Vlad’s men spilled past him and out onto the boards.
Gunfire erupted.
Bullets chewed splinters out of the wood around us. One round punched through the plastic-wrapped stack, close enough to my head that I felt the air shift.
I hit the planks hard, tasting old salt and dust. Valkyrie dropped beside me, shoulders tight.
“Miami?” I barked. “Updates?”
“Blackjack’s team just breached street side,” he said. “Whole building’s lit up. I’m seeing muzzle flashes on your level in the interior corridors. Your immediate problem though? You’ve got seven hostiles inching their way to your position on the boardwalk—four in suits, two cartel, one Serpent who must’ve come down another way. Vlad and the women are halfway between the doors and the lobby. He looks like he’s trying to get them to push your way because of the gunfight that’s now going on street side.”
Another round of shots smacked into the wood behind us. I looked down at my gun, checking I had afresh clip in to prepare for the imminent exchange. Valkyrie did the same. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, knowing I had to make a move now or else we’d just be sitting ducks.
“You’re not doing that thing,” she snapped suddenly, glaring at me from inches away.
“What thing,” I asked.
“The suicidal hero thing,” she said. “I know that look. You’re about to go full John Wick, and you’re not fucking John Wick, Evan. You’ll just get yourself killed.”
“Better me than you,” I said before I could stop it. The truth came out raw. “I’d rather die protecting you than see those beautiful eyes of yours with no life in them.”
Her expression cracked at that. Just a hairline fracture. Enough for me to see the panic under the anger.
“Got any other ideas on how to get the fuck out of this?” I added, because we were still in a gunfight and honesty wasn’t body armor.
She exhaled hard through her nose. Another bullet whizzed over our heads, slamming into the concrete facade near us.
“No,” she said. “But if you want me to honor your desire to protect me, then you have to honor my desire to protect you.”
“Valk—”
“We rise and falltogether,” she cut in.
Our eyes locked.
Something under my ribs stuttered, then settled with a new, brutal kind of certainty.
I studied her.
She was breathing fast, but her hands were steady. There was a bead of sweat on her throat. Dust streaked her jaw. Her eyes were bright and furious and completely alive.
I realized then, in that stupid, suspended moment, that I knew exactly what Miami had meant.
I’d been pretending this thing between us was something I could maybe think about after the smoke cleared. After Tesauro was dead, after the ledger was just paper instead of an active threat, after we weren’t living in a kill box.
There was no guarantee there’d be an after. Not for me. Not for her. Not for anyone.
