Nothing would stop me from saving her. Nothing and no one.
There was no time to contact any of my men. I’d need to do this myself.
And with the help of my best friend.
A weapon appeared from the open back window.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
I pitched behind a dumpster, firing off shots aimed at the tires. With the driver swerving back and forth, my shots missed.
Jerking up, I continued running forward, narrowly avoiding being hit by a spray of bullets.
Zorro was fast, but the driver obviously noticed my approach. Yet just as he hit the end of the road, starting to make a turn, my pup lunged through the air, managing to throw his body in through the window.
The man holding the gun screamed.
The driver swerved.
I fired off two shots, hitting two of the tires.
Seconds later, the driver lost control, ramming into a parked car.
There was no time to waste. With the weapon in both hands, I rushed the sedan, firing off a single shot as soon as the asshole in the passenger seat threw open his door.
I tossed him aside, not wasting a second in yanking open the back door. Zorro was wrestling with the asshole in back, his teeth wrapped around the man’s arm.
“Zorro, heel!” Growling, Zorro backed away, allowing me the opportunity to grab the asshole by the neck, firing off a single shot. “Anastasia.”
What the fuck?
With Zorro growling, I noticed the open driver’s door. The unknown man had dragged her out before I’d reached the vehicle.
“Jaxon!” she screamed.
I jerked my head up, catching sight of her just before she was yanked around the corner of another building.
By that point, there were people running toward us, including three of my men.
“Take Zorro to safety,” I yelled before taking off running after them.
The location of the theater was busy, traffic coming from all directions, businesses open on both sides of the street.
After crossing to the other side, I shut out all sound, listening for her and watching for any sign of them.
Seconds later, I noticed a trail of blood.
I kept close to the building, following the trail. When I noticed a parking garage, I crouched low before heading inside. Some sounds of traffic were drowned out, allowing my keen hearing a chance to catch several other noises.
Hearing footsteps, I kept low, moving behind the vehicles as I followed. Less than twenty yards later, I caught sight of them.
“Sergio Russo,” I called, which shocked the hell out of him.
He swung toward me, pointing his weapon in my direction. His shoulder was bleeding, blood soaking his shirt. I’d clipped him before.
As expected, he had his arm around Anastasia’s throat, but it was obvious he was in agony. I moved closer.
“Don’t,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I will kill her.”
