Page 19 of Her Billionaire Protector

“Go. I’ll hold him off.”

“No,” she says. “Come with me.”

A bullet hits the steam table behind us. Water explodes into the air, splatters us both. I draw my Glock and take a few shots of my own. Mine aren’t suppressed, and the shots ring in my ears.

“Run,now.” I work to shove her through the door, both hands on her waist.

She grabs the doorjamb.

She won’t go. I shield her with my body as best I can and push her through. Finally she caves, and lets me push her out.

Still, she lingers outside the door before she runs. Her eyes are tortured. I do my best to memorize her face, and then she’s gone.

Maybe she never felt for me the way I did for her. I don’t care. It’s enough. She was always more than enough. I’ll take this vision to the grave and die happy.

First I’ve got to kill this prick.

I duck down to overturn a few more of the steam tables between us. Velnias advances, one column to the next, closer, and I fire another two shots.

I miss, again and again.

Must be ten bullets left. No time or space to reload. I push through the door and look around for some way to block it. Nothing out there, on the steps or in the alley. I shove my gun through the handle and pull out my phone.

I hit star-13.

Then I remember Vance and Evie had it disabled.

Help isn’t coming.

The door thumps, and he’s right there on the other side: Martin Velnias. He nods at me, just like he did at the bar. His eyes look dead, like I already killed him.

He lifts his gun, rests the muzzle on the pane of glass. I dive to the right. It shatters outwards, shards raining down on the concrete steps. I pull my gun out of the door handle and take three blind shots inside.

I struggle to listen, my ears ringing.

Silence.

No, not silence: careful footsteps from off to the side, until they’re way too close. Martin’s rushing the door.

I hurry to replace the gun in the door handle to block him in, but he stomps it open, and I’m not ready.

He’s a professional.

I’m not.

I take off running into the alley, my shoeless feet landing hard on the pavement. A rose gold SUV peals out of the parking garage, takes off down the street.

Guess she didn’t get rid of it after all.

A bullet slices into a bag of garbage an arm’s length away from me. I turn and fire another three rounds. My shots are way off, don’t come close to making contact.

Seven left? Plus a round in the chamber.

I hide behind the alley’s dumpster. Martin’s footsteps ring out slow, careful. He’s not in any hurry. His real target’s gone, anyway. Now he’s hunting for fun.

A sharp pain hits me in the heel. I lift up my foot and yank out a shard of glass. Should have kept my shoes.

I break cover to fire another couple of rounds but he’s waiting for me, and he beats me to it. My last shot is nothing but an empty click.