Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
He had to send Franco Matherson a message. One very loud and clear. One that said not to fuck with him because the man would die if he did. Flambé was off-limits. She was safe and secure and never to be touched, frightened or intimidated again. It didn’t matter how much money the shifter had, he wasn’t going to win and he would never be safe. Sevastyan could get to him.
He lifted his head to push his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. “I want you to stay in this car with Ania. Keep your head down and the doors locked. Don’t you dare defy me on this, Flambé. This is my business.” He kissed her forehead and then pushed her down on the seat. “Lock the doors after me, Ania.”
“You got it.” He waited until she allowed the SUV to trap her between the other two cars suddenly rushing at them from out of the alley and she brought their car to a complete stop. He opened the door and was out, rolling away from the car to draw fire away from the women and signal to his men they had open season on Franco’s men.
He came to his feet as his men opened covering fire and strode purposefully right up to the passenger side of the Porsche while they were still staring in triumph at the trapped car with Flambé in it. He yanked open the door, put a gun to the passenger’s head and pulled the trigger. He shot the driver twice between the eyes as the man turned toward him in a kind of dazed shock. Then he sprinted toward the SUV.
Two more vehicles tore onto the lane, trapping the SUV. Sevastyan barely glanced at the cars, not in the least surprised that Mitya would follow his wife. His own men had already sprung the trap and enclosed the other vehicles Franco had sent, exchanging gunfire but killing the occupants fairly quickly.
Sevastyan came up to the side of the SUV, but Zakhar was there first, giving him a look that said to back off. He smashed the rear window with a tool several times, ducking low as a barrage of bullets met the glass shattering inward. Tossing the tool to Sevastyan, Zakhar waited for Sevastyan to hit the back-passenger window and then duck before he threw the homemade bomb into the vehicle. Tackling Sevastyan, they both hit the ground hard as the SUV was lifted high, rocked and then set back onto the ground, flames coming out from under the doors and through blown-out windows.
“You fucking asshole,” Mitya greeted as Sevastyan climbed to his feet. He looked his cousin over carefully. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, no worries. Thanks, Zakhar. We’ve got to get these bodies out of here.”
“Cleaners are already here. Drivers will move the cars. We have an enclosed one for the SUV. Get out of here.” Zakhar’s voice was clipped.
Kirill and Matvei escorted Sevastyan back to the car with Mitya and his bodyguards striding right along with him.
Mitya knocked loudly on the driver’s door and all but yanked his wife from the car. He continued glaring at Sevastyan.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know you were up to something?”
“I wasn’t up to anything,” Sevastyan denied. “I was taking Flambé to see her supplier. Ania said she’d drive me. There was a five percent chance that something might go wrong. I told you that ahead of time.”
“When did you tell me that?”
“The other night. Do you ever listen to one damn thing I say to you? Maybe because Franco Matherson isn’t after your woman you don’t have to worry about him, but I did make it very clear that asshole was after mine. I also mentioned he was pissed as hell at me.”
“Because you challenged him deliberately, Sevastyan,” Mitya pointed out. “You thrive on confrontation.”
“That’s most likely true. Right now, I promised my woman that I would get her to her meeting on time.” He also had the hard-on from hell. “You can give your woman a lecture, one of your two billion that will never do any good, and I’ll take mine and go.”
Sevastyan was already signaling to Kirill to take the driver’s seat. He wanted only one other in the car, someone he trusted. He slid into the back seat, keeping his hand on Flambé’s shoulder, keeping her down, trying to prevent her from looking too closely at what was happening around them. It resembled a war zone and the mop-up was going too smoothly, too efficiently.
“Are you going to tell me what just happened?” she asked.
“No. Right at the moment, I have other much more urgent things on my mind.” He pushed the button for the privacy screen the moment the car started up.
“Strip, Flambé. Everything. Hurry, baby, we don’t have much time.” His hands dropped to his trousers, easing them open and pushing them off his hips while he watched her take her blouse and bra off. She had generous breasts. Her nipples were strawberry red. They stood out against her pale skin. She kicked off her sandals and hooked her thumbs in her thong and the soft feminine pants she wore, sliding them down her legs to pull them off.