Page 48 of Sexting His Assistant

The sound of my name on her mouth is enough.

I lean closer.

Her hands rise to my coat, not pushing me away, not pulling me in. Just holding on.

The garage lights hum overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a door opens.

I hear it. Too late.

A sharp crack tears through the air.

Gunfire sounds different in enclosed spaces. Less like the films. More like the world splitting open.

Nina flinches.

I move before I think.

One arm locks around her waist, and I drive us both down behind the armored car as the second shot hits the pillar where her head was a heartbeat ago.

Concrete bursts white.

She gasps.

I cover her body with mine, one hand over the back of her head, forcing her low as another round slams into the side of the car with a heavy metallic thud.

“Stay down,” I snarl.

She’s beneath me, wide-eyed, breath trapped, fingers digging into my coat.

Security shouts echo across the garage.

Another shot. Glass somewhere explodes.

I draw my weapon from inside my coat and turn just enough to put myself between Nina and the line of fire.

Then the lights go out.

The entire garage plunges into darkness.

Nina’s hand tightens around my wrist.

Her fingers dig into my coat, her breath trapped against my chest, while another bullet slams into the car door hard enough to make the metal shudder.

The only thought in my head is cold, immediate, and certain.

We’re under attack.

7

NINA

For a second, I forget how to breathe.

Not in the romantic, stupid way I’ve been forgetting around Luka all day, not because he is too close or because his hand is on my waist or because I can still remember the heat of his mouth between my thighs.

This is different.

This is my lungs locking shut because a bullet just tore through the space where my head had been.