Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
My mind refuses to process what’s happening, and I feel as if I’m stuck in some kind of alternate universe where nothing makes sense.
I watch as Mr. Vitale checks something on his wristwatch and wonder why the hell he needs to know what time it is.
“I’ve pressed the panic button. Backup will be here soon,” he says.
I can only stare at my boss as he shrugs his jacket off, and then the man pulls a gun from behind his back.
What. The. Hell?
His eyes lock on my face, and the severe expression tightening his features demands my attention.
“We’re under attack. You need to do everything I say.”
“W-w-why,” I stammer through the terror. “W-what?”
Picking up his jacket, he tosses it into a small office, then I’m grabbed by the hand and pulled down the hallway.
“I’ll explain everything later. Right now, we just have to stay alive until backup arrives.”
Stay alive. Jesus.
I’m yanked into an empty office and pushed against the wall.
“Stay behind me, and don’t make a sound,” Mr. Vitale orders.
Our dire circumstances register with one hell of a force, and my body begins to tremble like a leaf in a shitstorm.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
Why the hell are people attacking us?
Do they want to kidnap Mr. Vitale for ransom?
My eyes lock on the gun in his hand, and seeing my grumpy boss hold a weapon looks weird.
“Find him!” someone shouts out in the hallway.
“Shit,” I whimper, and a grim sense of dread fills my chest.
Suddenly, Mr. Vitale darts forward, and in absolute horror, I watch as he kicks a man who's wearing a combat uniform in the gut. The man staggers back, and Mr. Vitale shoots him right between the eyes.
The gunshot is so loud it makes me shriek with fright.
Mr. Vitale grabs the dead man’s weapon and checks how many bullets it has.
With him having the bigger weapon, he shoves his gun into my hands, then says, “If something happens to me, find a place to hide. If anyone comes near you, shoot them.”
“I-I’ve never f-fired a g-gun,” I stammer, the gun heavy in my hand.
“Just point and pull the trigger,” he mutters as he tucks the hilt of the bigger weapon between his elbow and chest, and looking pretty badass, he steps out of the office.
Shocked out of my mind, I stand frozen.
I hear more gunshots, then Mr. Vitale shouts, “Come, Samantha! Stay behind me.”
Somehow, I manage to move, and as soon as I leave the office, I shift closer to Mr. Vitale until I’m almost glued to his back.
When he takes a step, I match it, and every time he shoots someone, a wave of shock hits me.
This is insane.
As we move past the lobby, the elevator doors open. Two men step out, and Mr. Vitale manages to shoot one of them while shoving me so hard I fall onto my butt and slide a couple of inches backward.
In a stunned stupor, I watch as my boss becomes a freaking ninja. Lunging his powerful body into the air, he avoids a bullet and delivers a kick to the side of the man’s head. As the man stumbles to the side, Mr. Vitale lands effortlessly on his feet.
Holy shit. That was badass.
He ends the man’s life by burying two bullets in his chest, then swings around and rushes to where I’m still sitting flat on my butt.
Chapter 18
Franco
It’s been ten minutes since I pressed the panic button on my wristwatch.
Renzo and the others have received my exact location and will be here soon.
I grab hold of Samantha’s bicep and haul her to her feet before pulling her toward the stairs.
I’m fucking worried about Milo and Lorenzo. With men getting past them so quickly, it means we’re being attacked by half an army.
As we cautiously take the stairs up to the sixth floor, my phone starts to vibrate. I quickly dig the device out of my pocket, and seeing Milo’s name flashing on the screen, I answer, “Where are you?”
“Third floor. You?”
“In the stairwell. We’re heading to the sixth floor.”
“I’m coming.”
I end the call and put the phone back in my pocket, then glance at Samantha’s pale face.
“How are you holding up?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’m not.”
“It will be over soon.”
When we reach the door to the sixth floor, I gesture with my finger in front of my lips for her to keep quiet.
Holding the submachine gun I took from one of the fuckers ready, I nudge the door open an inch and check the lobby. Not seeing anyone, I move forward.
On high alert, my eyes keep darting everywhere as I lead Samantha to another empty office.
My voice is low as I say, “Help is on the way.”
Her head bobs up and down, her eyes wide and filled with terror.
Silence falls around us, and I stand ready near the door. I hear the elevator ping, and the doors slide open.