Impatience pricks at my skin.“I need to know everything you’ve heard.”
“Word on the street is that you’re a man being hunted.There are bounties on your head, very high bounties, from the heads of both the Rossi and Volkov families.”
“Fuck,” I groan, smashing my fist against the table.
“Why does this bother you, Gray?You’ve had many hits out on you before.This is nothing new…unless…” Malik’s small grin morphs into a beaming smile.
“Unless?”
“Unless you’ve found something worth protecting.”His words are like a jab to the gut, souring my stomach.I do have something worth protecting.Someone worth protecting.
“Ah, I knew it!”Malik chirps happily.“The look in your eyes the last time I saw you; it could only be love.”
Love?Is that what this is?Is that what drives me to be near her?To protect her?Am I truly capable of it?
A loud crash pulls me from my thoughts.The floor vibrates with the force of it, sending gaudy decorations and trinkets skittering across the carpet.With another thunderous crash, the security door explodes open.Metal scrapes and screams as the door busts off its hinges and slams against the floor.
Dark smoke, reeking of gunpowder and chemicals, billows into the room.Five bodies step through the haze, guns drawn.They step forward in a haphazard line, guns trained on Malik and I.My eyes sweep over them, taking in their appearance.They’re definitely low-ranking goons, their clothes are dark but mismatched.Their guns are functional, but not top-grade.
Malik chuckles.“Friends of yours?”
I give him a healthy dose of side-eye before returning my attention to the invaders.
The grunt in the middle smiles.His slightly accented voice is gruff and weathered, sounding like the result of years of heavy smoking.“Mikhail Volkov sends his regards.”
Malik's hand wraps around my arm, yanking me toward him.His foot collides with the table, flipping it on its side in front of us like a shield.With a lopsided grin on his face, he unstraps an MP5 submachine gun from the underside of the table.Pulling the handgun from the back of my jeans, I balance on the balls of my feet, readying myself.
The roar of gunfire slices through the room, almost entirely masking the sound of a feminine scream.
“Layla,yallah!”Malik yells, a look of fear flitting across his face before it disappears behind a grin.
Malik's girl sprints toward the back door, her dress hiked up to her knees and her body crouched low.She’s done this before.I shift my eyes toward the man beside me, my closest ally and realistically the closest thing I have to a friend.The relief is clear on his face as she passes through the back door.Perhaps he understands what I feel for Ava more than I would have guessed.
Glass shatters and couch cushions explode as bullets spray the room, pinging off of metal and crashing through wood.The table we’ve shielded ourselves behind chips and splinters, shooting shards into my hair.
“Ready, my friend?”Malik shouts.
I hold my hand up, asking him to wait.When the shower of bullets slows to a trickle, I nod.The lights glint off of his polished, leather shoes as Malik’s foot collides with the table.It launches forward like a mahogany cannonball and slams into two of the thugs.We jump up as they crash to the ground.
Like the worst kind of synchronized swimming team, we dive sideways, Malik to the left and myself to the right.Blood and brain matter explode before us as we spatter the room with bullets.Pain blasts up my side when I collide with the floor.The stun of the impact only lasts a moment before I scramble, ducking behind what used to be a nice couch.
The ringing in my ears dulls, leaving only the sound of my own labored breathing.I swivel my head around, examining the room.Malik does the same.
“Was that it?”he asks with a shaky laugh.
I make a thoughtful noise in my throat.“I, uh, think so.”
Malik’s guffaw echoes through the quiet room.“They must think you weak,habibi.I hope you’ll prove them wrong.”
I stand, turning in a circle to take in the chaos around me.Destroyed furniture and bullet casings litter the singed carpet.Stepping lightly, I skirt around toppled tables and chunks of ceramic.The tip of my boot collides with the abdomen of a fallen gunman.He doesn’t move.In fact, the only movement from any of our would-be assassins is the slow pooling of their blood on the carpet.
I smile at Malik over my shoulder.“Send me an invoice for the damage.”
His laughter follows me as I step into the now empty nightclub, hoping that I’ve just bought myself some time.Mikhail will need to regroup and find better soldiers to send after me.By then, I plan to have ended this.
* * *
“You’re certain this is the place?”I ask, my eyes raking over the heavy, concrete building.
