Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Instinct kicks in, and I swerve the G-Wagon to the right. A bullet hits the window, and instead of bouncing off, it slams into the headrest next to my temple.
“Armor-piercing bullets,” Viktor shouts.
I floor the gas, spin the vehicle around, and race past our soldiers' convoy toward the docks' exit.
Another bullet shatters the rearview mirror, slamming into the doorframe by Viktor.
Gunfire erupts between our soldiers and Kelly’s men, but I keep going.
“Down,” I shout at Viktor, using my right hand to force him forward.
Another bullet hits, and I feel the burn in my left side.
I exit the docks with screeching tires and almost hit an oncoming sedan.
Blue.
I only see a blur of the woman.
Now is not the fucking time, Aslanhov!
I don’t stop for any red lights and maneuver the G-Wagon past the other cars on the road. Only when we race through the gates of the estate do I glance at Viktor.
“Are you okay? Did you get hit?”
He shakes his head, and yanking his phone out of his pocket, he calls someone. “Ivan, where the fuck are you?” There’s a moment of tense silence while I bring the vehicle to a stop. “Get out of there. I want to know who was supposed to check the docks before my arrival, and I want his fucking head on a platter.”
He ends the call then looks at me. His eyes lower to the red stain blossoming on my dress shirt. “You’re hit.”
“It’s just a flesh wound. Are you okay?” I ask again.
“I’m fine.”
We climb out of the G-Wagon, and Viktor glances at the shot-up vehicle. He dials another number, then says, “Uncle Carson, I want a hit placed on Kelly. One million dollars. The fucker tried to take me out.”
Viktor starts to walk toward the main mansion, and I follow him. Lifting my jacket, I pull up my shirt and see it’s really just a flesh wound. It should heal in a week.
Viktor ends the call with his Uncle, who runs St. Monarch’s, then lifts my shirt to check the wound. “At least we don’t have to dig a bullet out of you.”
I let out a chuckle as we walk into the mansion.
“Mama,” he calls.
“In the kitchen.” When we get close, I hear her muttering, “I’m always in the kitchen. Why the child has to shout, I’ll never understand.”
I chuckle again, and it earns me a slap against my back from Viktor.
It’s moments like this where I feel like I’m a part of the Vetrov family.
Chapter 27
Everleigh
“Yesterday, some idiot raced past us as if he was participating in Formula One,” I complain to Rosalie.
It’s the first time I’m visiting her at her home, and let’s just say I’m blown away. I knew she came from money, but the mansions (yes, plural) are spectacular.
“The driver was a freaking maniac.”
She shakes her head. “It’s insane.” She glances over her shoulder, then asks, “How many sugars?”
“Two, please.” I look at the living room where Vincent is trying to teach Roman how to play with cars. Rosalie’s son is trying to eat them while mine is patiently saying no, then showing how to push the little cars on the tiles.
I have an amazing child.
Rosalie places a cup of coffee down in front of me. “Have you heard from that guy again?”
“The one who wouldn’t take no for an answer?” I pick up the cup and take a sip.
“Yes, that one.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m glad he got the message.”
She scrunches her nose then gives me a playful smile. “So you really don’t want to date again?”
“I’m closed for business.”
“Don’t you miss it?” she asks. “You’re only twenty-two.”
“Sometimes it gets lonely, but in my heart, I know I’ll never love anyone besides Vincent’s dad.”
“It’s a shame,” she murmurs over her cup of coffee. “Viktor has a new employee, and I think you’ll make a great couple. He’s on the quiet side, but he’s a hard worker.”
“No, thank you.”
“He’s really good-looking.” I give her a look of warning for her to stop. “Fine, I’ll drop the subject.”
We hear a car’s engine, and Rosalie's smile brightens. “Oh, I think Viktor’s home. You’ll get to meet him.”
Crap.
“You said he’s working late.” That’s the only reason I agreed to come over. Just because I’ve become friends with her doesn’t mean I’m ready to meet her family.
“Sometimes, he pops in during the day. It’s okay. Don’t worry.”
She sets her mug down on the kitchen counter and walks to the sliding doors.
Nerves start to spin in my stomach, and I rush to where Vincent is blissfully playing with Roman.
“Hey, you’re home early,” she says cheerfully.
A man in his mid-thirties comes into view, and the sight of him sends my anxiety skyrocketing. The way he walks looks like he’s on the prowl to kill something. Or someone.
God, he looks intimidating.
He smiles at Rosalie and gives her a kiss. “I missed you, Moya malen'kaya roza.”