He pulls over at the side of the road and gets out, looking back at me. I slip out calmly, gun in hand, and walk toward him, lifting my arm, watching as his face falls into confusion.
I squeeze the trigger, but the car that screeches up behind catches me off guard, and I swing around, my finger loosening. It’s not Brad or James or any of my men.
Russians.
For the first time since I left Rose in the bathroom, the fog clears. I look back and forth between Sandy and the other men, surrounded.
Outnumbered.
They all lift their guns at the same time, like Sandy’s pressed the start button on his men. I inhale. Time slowing, my brain slowing with it.
The first shot catches me on my arm, knocking me back onto the bonnet of my car. The second in my thigh. The third in my shoulder. I lay on my back on the hood of the Mercedes, looking up at the blue sky, wondering . . . is this it?
Has my lack of control killed me?
I feel the tip of a gun pushing into my forehead.
I breathe in.
Close my eyes.
Bang!
“You stupid, stupid fuck!” James growls.
My eyes ping open, just in time to see his raging face before I’m yanked to the ground. “Fuck,” I choke.
“You hurting?” James asks, his own face screwing up as he lifts and looks over the roof, firing.
“A bit.” A fucking lot.
“Good.”
A plume of dust blows up, and Brad skids down the side of the car, joining us. “You stupid, stupid fuck.” He rises, fires, and drops back down to his arse next to me. “If we get out of this alive, you’re dead.”
“Otto flies around the back of the car, landing at my feet. I wait for what words of kindness he might throw my way. He doesn’t need words; his look says enough, but he speaks anyway. “If you die, I die.”
“That’s very honorable of you,” I wheeze, trying to lift my gun. I can’t. My arm is dead.
“Not honorable, son. Just a very real threat from your mother.”
“Good old Mum,” I quip, my feet slipping all over the stone as I try to get up. “Where the fuck is he?” I soon drop back to my arse when bullets start hitting the side of the car.
“Driving off into the sunset.” James rests back, looking up at the sky, exhausted. In pain. I’m with him.
“He got away?” I whisper, dropping my gun as Otto rises and pops off the last few men. “Why the fuck did you let him get away?” I yell, crawling to my feet and standing, watching his Bentley getting farther and farther away. “He needs to die.” And I need to be the one who kills him. I snatch Brad’s gun and stagger into the road, firing as I go, bullet after bullet, yelling as I do.
“The fuck, Danny?” Brad smacks the gun from my hand and gets up in my face, seething mad. “Do we all need to die too?”
I shove him away, and go back to my car, ready to go in pursuit. Fuck this shit. I am not going back to my wife until that rapist is dead.
I drop into the seat. And am quickly ejected, being hauled out and thrown to the ground. I look up at James.
Correction.
I look up at The Enigma.
And he looks far from at half strength. His finger comes up, his lips twisting. “Don’t make me kick your injured arse all over this freeway, Black,” he warns. “We deal with this another time. Like when we stand a fucking chance of coming out the other side alive. Now get in the fucking car.”
“You dick. I got in the fucking car. You just pulled me out of the fucking car.”
“Get in the fucking car!”
I do as I’m told.
Not because I’m scared.
But because he’s right.
And what fucking use are we to our women if we’re dead?
“You need to see Doc,” Goldie says as I drag myself up the steps.
I snort. “I need to see my wife.”
“You’re fucking bleeding all over the place.”
“No shit.” And the pain. Fuck me, the pain. “Where is she?”
“In your office.”
Beau comes flying out of the kitchen, her face like thunder, until she sees me virtually dragging myself along. “Shit, Danny.”
“I’m fine.”
“Someone get Doc,” she yells, running to the door. “For fuck’s sake!” She steps out, slipping her body under James’s arm as he struggles along. “I’m so fucking livid,” she seethes, giving me her eyes, making sure I know I’m on her shit list too.
I look down the corridor to the office. Then down my bloody body. “Fucking hell,” I wheeze, clenching my side as I limp there, feeling Brad two paces behind, ready to catch me when I collapse. I really fucked myself over this time. I won’t collapse. Not until I get to Rose. I take the handle, leaving blood all over the shiny knob, and push the door open.
She looks up from the couch. Takes me in. Swallows. She knew the outcome of this.
Except she doesn’t.
Getting up, she comes to me, taking in my broken body, the blood, the bullet holes. Her lip quivers. “Don’t cry, baby,” I say hoarsely, staggering forward a little, feeling a bit light-headed. She catches me and eases me down to the couch, feeling over my jacket and shirt, looking for the bullet holes. “Doc’s on his way,” I assure her.
She nods, slowly lifting her eyes to mine. “Is he dead?”
I stall. Swallow. Take a deep fucking breath and use my last piece of energy before I pass out. “Yeah.”
EPILOGUE
Miami — Five months later
JAMES
I’m suffocating. In this suit, in this room. “Stop fidgeting,” Danny breathes from beside me pulling in his own tux. “You look like you’re having second thoughts.”
“I am,” I admit.
“What the fuck?” Brad moves in, putting his ear closer to me. “Did you say what I think you just said?”
“Yeah, he said it,” Otto confirms, throwing me a filthy look. “What the hell do you mean, you’re having second thoughts?”
“We’re happy as we are.” I feel like such a chump, especially since it was me who pushed for this all along. But back then, I needed reassurance. I don’t need it now. I needed a light to follow. I don’t need to follow the light anymore. It’s just . . . there.
“Suck it up.” Danny smiles, his blue eyes beaming. “It’s thrilling dicing with death every day.”
“Speaking of dicing with death,” Otto says.
“What?” Danny asks, quickly searching for his mother.
“I’m not happy about your mother doing everything around the house.”
Danny bursts out laughing, offering his hand to Otto. “If you can convince her we should have a housekeeper, I might start accepting this shit between you two.”
Otto snorts. “Like you have a fucking choice.” He ignores Danny’s hand and takes up position beside me.
I face forward, crazy nervous, and come face to face with Lawrence. I shake my head, taking in his holy man garbs. He really has taken this ordaining shit seriously. “Are you ready?” he asks.
“Nope.”
His nose wrinkles. “The big scary assassin scared of a few wedding vows?”