Page 20 of Her Billionaire Protector

Not his. He doesn’t miss.

I fall back with the force of the shot hitting my body. My shoulder burns, a fiery hot sear. I clutch at it and pull my hand away bloody. Just a graze. Nothing serious.

But I’m out of bullets.

He must know, because he takes his time to pause and reload.

I picture her face, the pain in her eyes when I told her to go, to leave me behind. My mind calls up the feel of her lips on mine. This is enough, this life was enough.

But there’s a hurt in my heart from knowing I’ll never see her again, never feel her hand in mine, never wrap my arms around her.

Who will keep her safe when I’m gone; who will hold her when she cries?

Who will make her coffee? She’s so goddamned picky about it.

And Harvey Blagas still isn’t dead.

Tires squeal on pavement in the distance. A bullet whizzes past my head. I should be running.

But there’s nowhere to go. This dumpster is the last cover for the length of the alley, and I’m a fool, but I’m not dumb enough to think I’m going to outrun a bullet.

The sounds of gunned engines get closer: three SUVs turn into the alley at full bore. One doesn’t stop: he hits Velnias square in the legs, and the assassin flies through the air. He’s flung up against the wall and lands on the ground with a dull crunch. Blood seeps out from under his crumpled trench coat and pools around the trash bag he shot up.

I don’t think he’s going to make it.

The SUV doors click open, one-two-three, and three massive men step out onto the pavement. Giants in suits. I recognize them from the briefing at HPG. Vance’s men.

“You okay?” A beast of a guy calls over to me. He puts his earpiece in. I wonder if Vance is yelling him down on the other end, or if he ordered this.

“Yeah,” I shout back. “Just lightly shot.”

He opens the back door of the SUV, pulls a first aid kit out, and waves me over. He eyes my feet: socks, no shoes. “What happened to your shoes?”

I pick my way around the broken glass and limp on over. “Oh, you know. Fundraiser.”

Guess Vance and Evie left Line 13 on for me after all.

eleven

. . .

Mia

I drivewith my eyes on the rearview. Nobody follows.

I can’t decide where to go. I find myself heading to Armin’s safehouse on auto-pilot.

How safe it is now, I don’t know.

I bang on the steering wheel. I should go back. I should blow my cover and call in help from the FBI. But it takes days for those fucking clowns to do anything. Armin will be long dead before they respond.

I can’t believe I ran. Like a coward. I left Armin behind, alone, with Harvey’s assassin. What could I have done? Nothing. I didn’t have my gun on me.

My excuses don’t alleviate my guilt.

And Harvey’s charges aren’t even fucking filed. Not yet. The DA’s dragging his feet, as usual. Going after the Assistant DA instead of the real danger. Typical.

The lights of the city blur past me. I pull up at Armin’s and I park and I stare down the frontage road, hoping beyond anything Armin’s SUV will appear.