Page 4 of Antonio Miles

The gunfire continued in short, controlled bursts. Then sudden, erratic sprays. Bullets punched through drywall, thudded into furniture. A lamp exploded. Melanie and I both whimpered but managed to bite back screams as we covered our heads.

I risked a look around the side edge of the couch. The common area had become a killing field. Smoke hung in drifting layers, lit from beneath by muzzle flashes. I had no idea who was who. I just didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

I looked back behind us and saw Pippa with several more women and children headed to the safe room. They’d come from a different direction and the only way for them to get inside the safe room put them directly in the line of fire.

A massive shape barreled through the smoke from the right. Gunnar charged between the women and the fighting, planting himself between Pippa and the doorway. He raised his weapon and fired twice into the smoke, then turned, reaching for Pippa with his free hand.

“Get inside --” he started.

The doorway exploded again.

This time, it wasn’t a blast that caused the damage. The entire frame of the building gave way with a shriek of twisted metal and shattered concrete.

I coughed and tried to brush the grit and grime from my eyes enough to see what new threat I faced. From what I could tell, it looked like something large and heavy had hit the outer wall like a battering ram. When the wall gave way, a large chunk of the steel door frame caught Gunnar across the chest. The impact knocked him backward, his left leg pinned at an angle that made my stomach turn. Blood sprayed from his mouth as the impact drove him to one knee.

He didn’t cry out, but his face contorted into something between a snarl and a grimace, his bloody teeth bared, his eyes fixed on Pippa. His arm was still extended toward her, fingers spread, as if he could reach her through the smoke and the chaos.

Pippa screamed. A raw, animal sound that cut through everything. She lunged forward, dropping to her knees beside him, her hands going immediately to the spreading blood stain on his shirt. “Gunnar! Gunnar!”

Her palms pressed hard against his chest. Blood welled between her fingers. Gunnar’s eyes found hers. His mouth moved. I couldn’t hear what he said.

Two Kiss of Death members closed ranks around them. They moved with military efficiency. One of them dropped to a knee beside Gunnar, checking his pulse, barking an order to someone else. The other man positioned himself between the pair and the doorway, firing occasionally into the smoke. A third member joined them, and then they were a wall, shoulder to shoulder, creating a pocket of relative safety around Gunnar and Pippa.

The child Pippa had been protecting was wailing now, a high, thin sound. The older woman had scooped her up and was pressing her against the wall, one hand over the girl’s eyes.

I looked down at Melanie. She was curled into a ball, her face hidden against her knees, rocking slightly. Unhurt, as far as I could tell. Shocked, but physically intact.

The gunfire had mostly stopped. There was the occasional pop for the next several minutes. I tried to block that out because I knew those sounds were the Kiss of Death men executing an intruder. Which probably should have horrified me. Instead, knowing they were willing to risk getting caught and going to prison -- or the lethal injection chamber -- to keep everyone in this place safe made me feel better than I had in a very long time. I appreciated that sense of security more than anyone here could ever realize. Even my sister.

When I finally managed to talk myself into looking around the couch again, I saw men in dark suits moving through the smoke. When one of them calmly shot a man as he walked by, I realized the men in the suits were the ones doing the executing.

After a while, one of the men spoke into a small radio. “All clear, boss.”

Seconds later, Antonio Miles came through the opening. I recognized him from his regular visits to Haven. Tall, muscular, and imposing, he wore power and grace like an elegantly combined cloak. His dark chestnut hair was cleanly cut, his short beard neatly trimmed, both with a smattering of silver throughout. His charcoal suit looked like it cost more than everything I owned, and it was immaculate despite the dust and the early hour. His expression was composed, almost clinical, as he surveyed the common area.

Antonio’s men fanned out through the building. Two remained with him, flanking slightly behind. Antonio’s gaze swept the room. It paused on Gunnar. Anger and sorrow flickered across his face before he continued to take in the whole scene around him.

Until he saw me.

I still crouched beside Melanie who sat with her back against the wall, knees drawn up, watching everything with hollow eyes.

Antonio crossed to me with focused strides. He knelt, bringing himself to my eye level. He rested one arm on his bent knee as he leaned in to study me. Close up, I could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the subtle tension in his jaw. He smelled like expensive cologne with traces of gunpowder. And, God help me, it was an intoxicating combination on a man like him.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was level, but I sensed the tension in his voice. My answer mattered to him very much.

I shook my head, needing to speak but unable to. For multiple reasons. He held my gaze for long moments. When finally satisfied, he straightened in one fluid, effortless movement.

He turned to one of his men. “Did you get everyone?”

“Yes, sir. Three of the bastards are dead. One escaped through the lower service corridor but he won’t get off the property.”

“Make sure he doesn’t.” Antonio’s tone didn’t change. “The building?”

“Secure, but we’re going to have to move everyone. Housing women in high-risk situations always comes with violence.” The guy looked angry as he spoke to Tonio. “As great a thing as this is, talk to Knuckles about moving it deeper inside this maze of warehouses. Being adjacent to the compound isn’t going to cut it for Haven anymore.”

“Knuckles and I already have something in the works. Is help on the way?”

“Yes, sir. We have people coming to take the injured to your private wing at Vandy. They’ll have the best care in the state.”