Page 99 of The Villain

“Shit,” I spat, and I turned so Cian and I were back-to-back. He covered the stairs while I covered the opposite direction—a long hallway with a right-hand turn at the end. I could see the shadow of a man hiding behind the corner and I aimed, waiting for him to show himself again. When he peeked around the corner, I squeezed off a round and grinned as his body jolted from the shot.

I glanced around Cian’s body as a man’s head appeared on the stairs. Cian fired, hitting the man, but there were two more behind him. Cian’s gun—formerly Paolo’s—clicked on an empty chamber. I turned, but I wasn’t fast enough as two massive bodyguards slammed into us and took us both to the ground.

Hand-to-hand combat was not my strength, but Cian was a wildcat, throwing haymakers before getting the man on his back. They traded punches like it was a grudge match. The other man scrambled toward me on hands and knees, and I crab-walked backward until I could get my gun in front of me. I sent a bullet right into his chest, but he kept coming. Like the fucking Terminator. He growled in pain and fury as he knocked the gun out of my hand and landed a punch right to my jaw. My head bounced back against the floor, and I saw stars as he wrapped two meaty hands around my throat and squeezed.

I liked when Cian gave me a hand necklace, but this sucked. I couldn’t breathe, and the guy stunk like body odor. I tried to buck him off, but he had me pinned. He probably outweighed me by at least a hundred and fifty pounds.

Suddenly, a gunshot rent the air. The man’s body jerked, and a spray of blood coated my face. He collapsed on top of me, hands loosening around my throat. I gasped as his body fell to the side. Cian stood over me, face bruised, lip split, and knuckles bleeding.

I shuddered out a breath. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He hauled me to my feet, and we half-walked, half-tumbled down the stairs. My head spun from the punch, and my throat burned with every breath. Cian limped severely and had one hand pressed to his side. Blood stained his shirt. With our arms around each other’s shoulders—I wasn’t sure who was holding up who—we somehow made it to the bottom of the stairs and past the former guard station. I nearly wept in relief as Cian pushed the front door open.

I was grateful to be able to inhale air, even if it was less than fresh, and turned my face toward the warmth of the early morning sun. Until I was yanked back to reality when Cian abruptly stopped.. The door clicked as it closed behind us, and I turned to face a line of men who stood between us and the van. There had to be a dozen. Maybe more.

Smoke curled from a cigarette dangling from the lips of a very familiar face. Tattooed knuckles pulled it from his lips. Blue eyes met mine. Dread froze every muscle in my body.

“Devlin,” he said in greeting.

“Who the fuck is this?” Pain was ground into every syllable of Cian’s voice. He stood hunched over, body swaying, with his arm around my shoulders. His fingers dug into my skin.

I swallowed. No, this couldn’t be happening. I’d listened. I’dobeyed. I’d respected my exile. “This is Nik Alenin. Soto—Conrad’s right-hand man.”

Cian tried to straighten his posture, but he only managed a few inches with a grimace. “Why are you here?”

Nik’s gaze traveled up to the building behind us. He made a gesture to the men closest to him. “Go in and clean up the damage.”

The men murmured their assent and gave us a wide berth as they passed and disappeared through the front door.

My breathing stuttered. This couldn’t be happening now. Not when I had everything I’d ever wanted. Not when I was so close to home.

I gritted my teeth. “I followed your orders. I have not, and will not, return to Detroit. I haven’t contacted Conrad or Tav, and I have no intention of doing anything to harm them.”

Nik dropped his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of his boot. “A little defensive aren’t we, Devlin?”

“Don’t act innocent,” I snapped. “You don’t seem surprised to see me, so tell me why you’re here.” He’d seen me at my absolute lowest, and just being in his presence again made my skin crawl.

He leaned back against the van as if the vehicle belonged to him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. The men around him were eerily silent. A rodent scuttled near the dumpster. A car horn blared in the distance. The city was waking.

Nik’s gaze settled on Cian, and panic flared in my chest. I tried to shield Cian from Nik’s view. “Don’t fucking look at him.”

The big Russian’s eyebrows rose. “Protective?”

“What the fuck do you want?” There was a fatigue to Cian’s tone. “If you want to kill us, get it over with. If not, we want to go home.”

We. Home.

“This is really fucking dramatic, Nik,” I said.

He smiled then, showing a row of white with one golden canine. “We got word you’d hooked with the O'Shea’s, and that the Bianchis had put out a hit on this one.” He pointed to Cian. “You’re bad luck, Dev.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Cian rasped. He pulled me back as if to stand between me and Nik, but he tripped on his bad leg and only succeeded in nearly sending us both to the ground. All we could do now was stand together, side-by-side, the walking wounded.

Nik’s gaze ping-ponged between the two of us, and his grin only got wider. “Interesting.”

I was going to lose it. “Nik?—”

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands, palms out. “You taking out Bianchi is advantageous for us. He wasn’t cooperative with our plans for this area, and we hadn’t moved against him yet. But you, Devlin.” He wagged a finger at me. “You took care of the problem for us. So we’re going to take care of this problem for you. We’ll clean up the club, pay off the police, and install a new crew in this territory who won’t retaliate against you for killing old man Bianchi.”