AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sighed, staring intently into her eyes. “I’ll get him to calm down. As long as we’re clear, you’re coming with me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and those long lashes fanned over her cinnamon cheeks. “Ok.”
My gaze dropped to those pouty lips.
Damn, I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful. Franco, she’s just another woman.
Was she? Spitfire didn’t feel like just another woman.
Men toting AK-forty-sevens released rounds of bullets in the parking lot, shattering the windows. I knew it was Duke and his men in the parking lot.
Panicked customers screamed. Their pleas rang out throughout the restaurant.
“Spitfire, can you fire a weapon?” I shouted over the gunfire.
“Yes.”
I reached for one of the two Glocks resting in the waist holster against the small of my back.
Bullets hurled overhead, smashing bottles of liquor.
“Hair guy, you trust me to fire a weapon. You aren’t afraid I’ll run?” She yelled.
I squinted. “Hair guy?”
“Yeah, hair guy. Just like you don’t like that pet name. I don’t like spitfire.”
“If you kill me, my men outside these walls will kill Quinn. Is that what you want?”
She rolled her eyes. “No.”
The wooden bar shifted against my back. I peeked to my right. The bartender must’ve exited the rear entrance. Clip peeked at me from the opposite end of the bar. “Boss, we have to get you out of here,” he hollered.
“After I talk to Duke. Oh, and we’re bringing Spitfire with us.” I placed the Glock in her hand.
“Kennedy. The name is Kennedy,” she spat, checking the magazine.
A woman who knew how to handle a firearm.Sexy.
“Clip, Kennedy is coming with us.”
He nodded, aiming his Glock out the door at the men in the parking lot. Kennedy darted up from my side, firing her weapon.
“Ettore, Clip, don’t let anything happen to her,” I yelled as I inched toward the end of the bar in a crouched position. Bottles of liquor and glasses exploded, raining down on the floor.
“Duke,” I called out.
I peeked around the corner. Duke stood near his bulletproof Bentley, wearing a devilish grin as he watched the fallout. He stood clean as a whistle in a three-piece gray suit.
“Duke, it’s Franco. Hold your fire. I’m coming out,” I shouted, aiming my Glock at him.
Duke didn’t acknowledge my presence. I aimed my weapon at the man covering him and fired off a shot.
The bullet penetrated his thigh.
“Ah,” he shrieked.
Crouched down, I slipped out the front door.
