The blast was enough to send both Jonathan and me to the ground. I rolled to the side, Beretta out, and looked back down the hall toward Rinaldo’s office. The door had been blown off completely, and there was debris everywhere.
“Lia!”
I shoved myself up and ran back down the corridor. I could hear Jonathan’s footsteps behind me, but all my focus was on what was up ahead. The window of the den had been blown out completely, the bookshelf was toppled over, and people were coming in from outside.
“Motherfucker!” Rinaldo was screaming. “How dare you come to my house? My house!”
Shots rang out, but I couldn’t pay attention to them because I couldn’t see Lia anywhere. I pushed my way into the room and tried to make out shapes through the dust that clouded the air. I could hear more shouting and recognized the voices, but I was too focused to register whose they were.
“Evan!”
To my right was the toppled bookshelf, and Lia was on the floor next to it. I rushed over to her and knelt down.
“Luisa!” Lia cried as she pointed to the shelf.
I could see one of her legs and part of an arm sticking out from underneath it. Crouching down, I got a good grip on the edge and shoved up with my legs as hard as I could. The shelf only moved a foot, but it was enough for Lia to grab onto Luisa and pull her out from under it.
She was bleeding from a gash in the back of her head, and her arm was obviously broken. I checked her head, but the gash wasn’t deep—just a lot of blood. I pulled off my shirt and held it against her scalp as I pulled her and Lia back behind the upturned couch.
With the Beretta back in my hand, I peered out to the scene in the room.
Rurik Dytalov and Micah Severinov were right at the edge of the window surrounded by three of their goons. Micah was yelling at Milena.
“You never fucking listen to me!” he screamed. “You’ve joined the fucking enemy!”
Nick pushed Milena to the side as Micah fired. She fell amongst fallen books and Rinaldo’s globe-shaped bar as Nick screamed and dropped down beside her.
“Nicholas!” Rinaldo cried.
His gun fired rapidly toward the two Russians, but my attention was drawn to the figure behind them.
Kyle Davies.
His eyes met mine, and everything I was feeling before abruptly resurfaced. It wasn’t just a feeling, either—I could see it. I could see him holding Lia down on the floor of that warehouse and threatening her. I could hear the words she said he spoke, and I could see the terror in her eyes has he forced her to the ground.
“Motherfuckingsonofabitch!” I screamed as I pushed away from the couch and ran forward, gun firing into the dust-filled air.
A flash brightened my peripheral vision, and a searing pain in my calf caused me to lose my footing in the mess of glass, wood, and brick scattered around the floor. My head slammed hard onto the floor, and my Beretta flew from my hand as bright spots formed in my vision.
Johnson was on me a second later, slamming my shoulders into the ground as I rolled to grab for him through blurry vision. He pulled back to try to aim his weapon in my face, but I grabbed his arm, twisted it, and shoved his head to the floor into a pile of glass. He screamed, and I pulled his head back to slam it down again. One of the pieces of glass embedded in his neck, and blood began to pour onto the floor.
More shouts. More shots. I didn’t even know where they were coming from. My head was pounding, and I still couldn’t see clearly. Blood covered my arm, but I held firmly to the back of Johnson’s neck until he stopped struggling, his face a mess of gashes. Just as I released him, a sharp blow to my gut sent me reeling to the side.
A burst of nausea trampled its way through me. I shook my head to try to clear it, and when I looked up, Davies stood over me, his gun in his hand and a smirk on his face.
“You get it all figured out, asshole?” he snarled down at me.
“I figured out you’re a dickless piece of shit,” I replied. “You can’t handle me yourself, so you have to pick on girls.”
“She has a nice, tight little pussy,” he said. “I figured you couldn’t fill it up.”
He stuck a finger in his mouth and sucked on it.
I pushed myself up, lashing out with one boot to his shin. Davies lost his balance and fell but kept hold of his gun. I grabbed for his wrist, and we rolled to the side. He cried out as he hit the glass, then wrenched his hand free and punched my gut with the butt end of the gun.
My left fist made contact with his jaw, and his head snapped back. It didn’t deter him, though. He punched me again with the revolver, knocking me back to the floor.
My head swam. I was on my back again, blissfully not in a pile of glass, but I could barely move from the dizziness in my head. I looked up to see Davies standing over me again.
“Time to pay, Arden,” Davies said as he raised the gun to my face. “Who’s the fucking hero, now?”
The blast rang through my ears, leaving me deaf for a moment. I waited for the pain, but there was nothing. For a moment, I thought I might be dead, but then I realized I could hear Lia screaming.
“It’s all right, babe,” Jonathan’s voice echoed from behind me. “You did good.”
I pushed myself up on my elbows and focused on the body of Kyle Davies lying near my feet. There was a gaping hole in the back of his chest and blood everywhere. I looked over to Lia who held my Beretta in her hands.
Her face was white.
The dust was clearing, and as my vision returned, the nausea subsided. I looked around the room to see Rinaldo standing in the middle of it, a gun in each hand. He was looking over the scene with his knuckles white against the pistol grips, his nostrils flared, and his eyes blazing.
There were no more shots.
I made my way over to Lia and kneeled in front of her. She still held the gun out at the ready as she looked into my eyes.
“I killed him,” she whispered.
“I know,” I replied. “It’s okay.”
She shook her head rapidly, and her hands clenched. I needed to get the gun out of her hand before she inadvertently fired it again.
“Give me the gun, baby,” I said softly.
Lia’s eyes were still wide, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. I reached forward and placed my palm over the barrel of the Beretta and gave it a bit of a twist, freeing it from her fingers. She collapsed into a heap as soon as I did, and I dragged her closer to me.
“It’s all right,” I told her. “You’re okay—I’m okay.”
“I killed him,” she said again.
“I know.” I held her to me. “You had to, baby.”
Rinaldo was holding Luisa gently by her good arm as he picked his way through the rubble, kicking at Rurik’s body in the process. Victor and Matthew both lay still, but I couldn’t tell if they were dead or just unconscious. Milena was holding Nick’s head in her lap, but his eyes were open and he was talking to her as tears ran down her cheeks. I looked toward the window and saw Micah’s body bent at an awkward angle on the floor.
“You okay?” Jonathan asked.
“I think so,” I said. I looked down to my leg. The tear in my jeans revealed the bullet wound across my calf. “Hurts like a bitch, but it’s not serious. We need Doc Franklyn.”
“I’ll get him,” Jonathan said.
“Call in a cleaning crew, too,” Rinaldo called out as Jonathan stood and headed out.
By the time the doctor arrived, Jonathan and Rinaldo had moved Matthew and Victor’s bodies to one side of the room and Micah, Rurik, and three of their cohorts’ bodies to the other side. Johnson—or whatever his name was—and Davies were still right where they fell.