The bikes are parked up ahead, leaning against a wall, but the two young men are missing. They must be on a drop. It’s the perfect time to make our move, and I follow behind Daniel. Steam rises from grates and the place stinks like trash. The ground’s damp and muddy from the rain last night, the water brown with sludge. I step in a puddle, soaking my foot, and leave a slight trail as I step to the other side. I curse quietly to myself and look down?—
Only to notice more footprints. Wet footprints, which means they were made recently. I can’t tell how many people, but there were a few.
Which shouldn’t be odd. It’s an alley near a busy street. I’m sure workers need to come up and down this walkway, but I get a bad feeling. Artyom’s men can’t possibly know we hacked into their cell network and have been trailing them thanks to that phone I found in the safehouse, but this feels all wrong. I slow my pace, falling behind Daniel as he confidently creeps toward the bikes.
“Hold on,” I say sharply, turning back. I draw my gun, gripping it tightly. “Pause a second. We can wait for them further back, take them quiet, talk to them in the car?—“
Daniel looks over his shoulder.
One of the men steps out from a deep recessed doorway and shoots him in the chest.
The gunshot is loud in the confined space. Daniel drops instantly, blood blooming in the gutter, turning the black water a slick black. I fall to a knee, which is all that saves me, as my attacker goes for a headshot and the kill. I fire back, catch him twice in the shoulder, then throw myself sideways. His partner rolls out of hiding, fires at where I was a second ago, and takes a bullet in the mouth. Teeth rattle to the ground, skittering around the stones.
I pause to catch my breath. One attacker is dead. The other’s alive, but dying. I can still question him, maybe even keep him alive and get as much information as I can. These men are part of Artyom’s network in Paris. They’ll know locations, drop points, safe houses, hiding spaces?—
Daniel groans and coughs.
Fuck, he’s still alive. Fuck, fuck fuck. Artyom’s man is right there—I can get him, drag him to the car, even with all these witnesses?—
“You’re alright, I got you.” I scramble to Daniel’s side. Blood seeps from wounds in his right chest up near the shoulder. “You’re alright. You’re okay.”
“Fucker… bad shot…” He wheezes and grimaces.
“Be quiet. You’re bleeding a lot.” I grit my teeth and lift him. “This is gonna hurt.”
“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans. “Already does.”
“You’re… god damn… heavy.” I growl as I drag him from the alley. The surviving attacker drags himself the oppositedirection, trying to escape. I watch him, livid with myself, but I keep moving. “I got you, damn it.”
Daniel goes quiet. I’m not sure if it’s the shock or what. Daylight hits us when we reach the end of the alley. Nearby pedestrians are watching in horror. One approaches and rattles off something in French. “Attacked… robbery… hospital.” I throw words out there, hoping they understand.
Nobody tries to stop me as I shove Daniel into the back of the car. He’s cursing softly, which is a good sign. No blood on his lips. No sucking, wet, airy sounds from the wound. I think that means the bullet missed his lung. I pull off my shirt and shove it against the wounds and press his hand down against it.
“Pressure. Stay conscious.” I get behind the wheel and freeze.
Can’t go to the hotel. That’s a dead end. But there’s a house we bought for emergencies not far from here. It’s a dump, but it’s private. I can go there, only once we use it, the place is burned. It was supposed to be a last resort…
Damn this to hell. I put the car in gear and race away from the shooting, driving like a maniac until I’m far enough away to calm down. I call my security team and tell them to meet me with a local doctor as soon as they can. I’m using all my resources right now, but there’s no other option. We reach the house a few minutes later, and Daniel's only half conscious when I pull him inside, struggling with the door, before dumping him on a ratty old couch.
“Thought… you’d leave me…”
“I should’ve.” I hold my shirt on his wound. “Your history lesson was a pain in the ass.”
He grins, but it fades fast. “They… ambushed…”
“We got made. I don’t know how. Now shut up. Doctor’s on the way.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but only turns his head and grits his teeth against the pain.
CHAPTER 26
NIKA
Daniel looks terrible. He lays under blankets in a back room, pale and sweating. Gabe’s at his bedside, not saying much, while a television plays a show in French neither of them can understand.
I watch from the other room. Eggs fry in the small kitchen. I keep checking on the pair of them, fluttering at the edges of the hallway, waiting for something terrible to happen: shouting, yelling, more blood, but it’s quiet. The two men sit in silence and stare straight ahead. I’m not sure how aware Daniel is right now— the doctor pumped him full of pain meds after stitching his wounds shut.
“You should eat.” I touch Gabe’s shoulder and try to steer him away from the bed. He doesn’t want to move at first. I can tell the thought of leaving Daniel alone is difficult. But eventually he lets me guide him into the other room. I close the door, giving us some privacy.
