Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
We were outnumbered, outgunned, and outmaneuvered, but we would fight for what was ours. My thoughts strayed to Sabrina, and I prayed that she was safe as I rose and began spraying our attackers with bullets.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sabrina
David’s phone rang, and he answered it immediately. “Yeah.” His thick, dark eyebrows drew together as he listened. “I’m coming…I don’t give a fuck what he told me to do. I’m coming.” He stashed his phone in his pocket and hurried to the door.
I rose from the edge of the bed, my stomach lurching with turmoil and worry. “What is it?”
“The Russians knew. Somehow they found out that the real shipment was at the airport. It’ll take our guys half an hour to get there from the river. By that time, it’ll be over.” He opened the door, then paused. “Take this.” He handed me a pistol from his holster. “This is the safety. Just flick it off. If anyone comes through that door, pull the trigger.”
The weight of the gun surprised me, but I gripped it and tried to seem brave, even though I was falling apart on the inside with worry for Nate. “Please hurry.”
“I will.” With that, he left and closed the door behind him. I flipped the lock.
My leaden legs carried me back to the bed where I sat and played out worst-case scenarios of what was happening at the airstrip. My eyes tried to tear up, but I wouldn’t let them. I would be strong and wait for Nate to return. He had to come back. He promised me, and he had never let me down before. He wouldn’t start now.
After David left, the house became eerily silent. Every little sound caught my attention, and I held onto the gun as if it were a lifeline. Footsteps in the hall had me aiming at the door.
A light knock, and then Opal’s voice floated through, “Can I wait with you?”
“Yes.” I tucked the gun behind me and unlocked the door for her.
She hurried in, her eyes wide. “David left in a rush. Is everything all right?”
I hugged her, hoping her motherly touch would soothe my nerves. “No, they had a shipment tonight. The Russians were waiting for them.” Anguish twisted my voice. “They’re in a fire fight for their lives.” And I’m here, being useless.
Pulling away from my embrace, she squeezed my upper arms. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. They probably took enough men to the airport to last for a little while, at least.”
“Wh-what did you say?” Ice prickled through my veins.
She smiled. “Oh, I was just saying that I’m sure it will be all right.”
“How did you know about the airport?” I thought back to all the times when Nate had discussed business in front of Opal. She was always on the periphery, bustling in with coffee at just the right time to hear tidbits of conversations. Cold realization dawned inside me. Opal had been the rat all along.
Her smile faded and she pulled a pistol from her skirt and pointed it at me. “It took you long enough to figure it out.”
I stared at the barrel, unable to focus on anything else, though I slowly reached around for the gun tucked in the waist of my jeans.
“Not a chance.” She aimed at my forehead. “Turn around.” Her voice was cold, completely devoid of the motherly tones I had grown used to. The same soft tones that had lulled Nate, Peter, and David into a false sense of security.
I did as she said, turning my back to her. She ripped the gun from my jeans and shoved me forward with wiry strength.
I stumbled and dropped to my knees as gunshots ricocheted from downstairs. Turning, I stared up at her. “Why?”
She held the gun on me as gunshots sounded from below and boots pounded up the stairs. “This house has belonged to great families for a century. Families that have led the most respected organizations in the city. Sometimes the country.” She sneered, the wrinkles in her face growing deeper. “Then Nate Franco comes along. No pedigree. Just some thug who thought that he could rule over the rest of us when he should’ve been shining our shoes. He doesn’t deserve this house. He doesn’t deserve my service. I’ve been skimming from the household account, saving up for this day. Nate and his whore and his trash friends will be gone, and this house’s great tradition will be reinstated.”
“You’d replace him with the Bratva?” I rose higher on my knees and tried to formulate a plan to knock her on her ass.
“The Bratva have a rich tradition, a long history, and a respect for the way business used to be done. I’m no fan of the Russians, but I’d much rather serve them than an American mutt who should never have risen to the top.”