by Sweet, Izzy
Before I can act on his order, Alexei gives me a shove toward the nearest pews. “Igor, protect her!”
Igor appears out of nowhere and grabs me roughly by my bad arm, dragging me and shoving me down behind the pews.
More gun shots ring out and shouts go up, a mixture of Russian and English.
I try to pop my head up to see what the hell is going on only to have Igor shove me back down.
“Stay,” he grunts as he aims a pistol and fires at the front of the church.
Knowing it’s probably in my best interest to follow his command and make myself as small of a target as possible, I twist around and drag my legs in as far as my big fluffy white skirt will allow me.
“Dear Lord, protect me from the evil forces that desecrate this most holy sanctuary,” the old priest prays frantically, crawling his way over to me from the altar.
He struggles, partly because of his age, and partly because of his robes getting in the way, and I find myself unable to muster up one ounce of sympathy for him.
“There’s too many of them!” one of my father’s men cries out.
“Fall back!” my father roars and then grunts as if he’s in pain.
My heart immediately lurches inside my chest, my hate for him is momentarily forgotten.
Is he hurt?
Logic fleeing, I try to pop up again to check on my father, only to have Igor shove me back down.
He curses and then shouts something in Russian.
Alexei shouts back.
The priest finally reaches me just as two of my father’s men stumble down the aisle. Shooting wildly at the front of the church, they don’t even spare me a glance as they run for the doors flanking the altar.
Only one of them makes it. I watch in horror as the smaller of the two, a man I don’t know by name, takes a shot to the head and drops to the floor.
“God have mercy,” the priest whimpers, and then the smell of something acidic hits the air.
It takes me a second to place the smell, but once I do I scoot away from him in disgust.
He pissed himself in fear.
“Meghan! Meghan!” my father cries out and then he appears, being dragged down the aisle by Alexei.
I note at once that his right arm is hanging limply at his side and a blossom of blood the size of my fist stains his white shirt.
He’s wounded, and the little girl inside me cries out, “Daddy!”
Three Russians shield my father and Alexei, using their huge bodies as a wall as they shoot at the front of the church.
“Bring her, Igor,” Alexei orders as he drags my father past me.
Igor glances at him before firing off a few more rounds. Then he reaches down and grabs me by the shoulder a second before he just drops beside me.
It happens so fast, I find myself blinking down at Igor’s motionless body in shock.
“Fuck!” Alexei roars and begins to shout frantically in Russian as he continues to drag my father further and further away from me.
One of the three men shielding him moves toward me only to drop dead with a bullet in his head beside Igor.
“Meghan! Meghan!” my father wails desperately, and not knowing what else to do, I begin to crawl toward him.
A stream of bullets suddenly hit the floor in front of me, blocking off my escape. I scramble backward as another of Alexei’s guards falls to the ground, dead.
Thrusting my spine into the front of the pew, I look up in time to find Alexei staring at me. His eyes lock on mine, intense and full of something I can’t place as he reaches the door beside the altar.
A shot rings out, this one somehow much louder than the last.
The only guard standing in front of Alexei falls to the ground, his body thumping into the floor with a wet crack.
Then another shot rings out, this one hitting the door as it closes behind my father and Alexei.
I just stare at the door as two more bullets splinter the wood.
Then it finally hits me.
“They left me…” I say out loud in cold disbelief.
They fucking left me here to die…
A heavy silence falls over the church.
No more shots ring out.
No more voices pierce the air.
The only thing I can hear is the old priest wheezing beside me.
Seconds pass that drag on like minutes. A million thoughts race through my mind.
Is everyone dead? Are the attackers gone? Maybe now’s my chance to get away?
Staring at the bullet-riddled floor in front of me, my heart pounds so hard I fear I might be sick.
The thought of popping up only to drop to the floor like the dead men in front of me keeps me from moving.
So I wait, my ears straining.
The silence stretches on and on.
Then the first heavy footstep falls, echoing throughout the cathedral, and my heart freezes in mid beat.
Oh god, the attackers are still here.
One footstep becomes two, three, then four.
My brain finally processes what I’m hearing. Someone is walking up the aisle.
The footsteps stop.
“Dead,” a deep voice says.
Then they start again only to stop.
“Dead,” the voice says again.
The footsteps grow louder and louder, coming closer and closer.
Two gunshots suddenly ring out and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Dead now.”
Fuck. I’m dead if I make a run for it, and I’m dead if I stay here.
If I want to live, I’m going to have to find a way to fight.
The footsteps start again, and knowing I only have a few precious seconds to save myself, I make a grab for Igor’s gun beside me.
I manage to reach it and get it settled in my hand just as I hear the footsteps approaching closer.
Taking a deep breath, I turn myself around, count to three, and then rise.
The most striking pair of baby blue eyes pierce right through me as I come face-to-face with the owner of the footsteps.
For a heartbeat, I’m frozen, stricken stupid by the handsome giant in front of me.
Then my survival instinct comes roaring back in.
It’s kill or be killed.
Adrenaline spiking again, time slows down. I catch the surprise, the confusion, then the acceptance in the bright blue gaze of the man looking down at me.
He’s ready to die, his eyes tell me, and I almost hesitate.
Almost.
My hand shakes and I wrap my other hand around the barrel to steady the gun.
Then I close my eyes, ask God for forgiveness, and pull the trigger.
I expect a little recoil and maybe even a warm splash.
What I don’t expect is for the gun to click and nothing to happen.
What the fuck?
I open my eyes slowly to see the massive man smirking down at me.
Shit.
4
Gabriel
Normally when someone puts a gun to my chest with the intention of shutting down my beating heart, I rebel against that very notion and stop them.
But something about the way this girl’s deep blue eyes look up into mine stops me from moving.
Feelings that are completely alien hold me in place as I stare into her eyes. I don’t even get to give her a grin before she pulls the trigger.
Click, smack.
I’m not sure who’s shocked more, me, her, or the guys behind me.
There’s a lot of smoke and loud sounds echoing through the church, but that click of an empty chamber resonates through my ears as if it’s a big fucking gong.
I can’t help but smirk at the little woman standing in front of me when the gun doesn’t go off.
“Damn, that bitch was gonna cap your ass,” James shouts as he jogs past me, heading toward the back of the church, chasing after the fleeing Russians and Irish.
I just stand in place as the men flow past me. I was the first i
n and should be the one leading the charge, but I can’t seem to move my feet. It feels like I’ve been fucking cemented to the floor. Like I’ve been weighed down with cement boots and tossed into the river. I’m floating down, down into the inky blackness.
The trigger is pulled again and panic begins to fill her eyes, her cheeks red and flushed from whatever emotion is flooding through her.
I don’t know exactly what the emotion is, but I’d say it isn’t exactly murderous rage that I was trying to kill her future husband.
“Thing isn’t going to kill me itself, girl. You need to reload it,” I say loud enough so that she can hear me over the sudden roar of gunfire coming from the doors behind the cross.
“Fuck,” she groans as her fingers go slack around the metal grip of the gun.
“Yep.”
Reaching out, I cradle the small, delicate hand holding the pistol with my own and pry it easily from her fingers.
Pocketing the gun into the back of my jeans, I reach out and take her hand again in mine, then I yank her along with me. I guess I got us a prisoner of war or something. Ain’t tortured a chick in a long time, though. Not sure if I’m going to be down for that. Not one with a set of balls as big as this blue-eyed girl’s got.
“We gotta move. You gonna be a problem I have to take care of?” I ask as we move down the aisle toward the entrance of the building.
It’s probably going to get a bit hectic if she’s going to be putting up a fight.
“I… I…” she stammers as we come out of the church’s entrance.
Cars screech across the cold asphalt of the parking lot, and the gunfire hasn’t stopped out back either. Fuck.
“Michael,” I say through our comms. “You get the tracker tags on the black Audis?”
“No, too many guards. Simon, do you have visual through the city?” Michael asks.
“Not yet, but I will. How many men are down?”
“I count five inside, four outside. Not sure how many got out, Alexei wasn’t one of them.”
Fuck. We needed to hit Alexei.
“What about the Irishman?” I ask.
The bride beside me freezes up instantly as I try to get her to the black Tahoe I came in.
Shit, that’s right, that’s her dad. She was supposed to marry Alexei. I’m not entirely sure where my head is at right now, it’s somewhere between the delicate hand I have clutched in mine and the need to unleash catastrophic violence on the men who we came to kill.
Racing around the corner of the church, two more Audis swerve away from us as they try to escape the havoc that’s being unleashed.
Split-second decisions suck at a time like this.
Yanking the chrome .45 from my hip holster, I unleash half a clip into the back tire and window of the last car.
Shattering glass and a swerve send the vehicle slamming into another parked car.
Even now, in the moments of death and smoke, I feel the little dark-haired girl trying to pry my fingers from around her wrist.
“Stop it,” I growl to her as I pull her along with me.
“Let me go!” she yells as she slaps at my shoulder.
I gotta admit she’s got some fight in her, but she’s all mine and she had her chance to get away when she tried to kill me. Sucks for her that the gun was empty.
“I need a situation report for the front of the building, Gabriel,” Simon says over the comm piece in my ear.
Tilting my head to the side to activate my controls, I say, “One of two black Audis got away. I’ve immobilized the one that didn’t. Anyone able to come up and give me backup? I need to check who’s inside. I’ve also picked up the bride. Currently making sure she doesn’t try to put a bullet in me.”
“Oh, how I wish she would,” I hear Simon mutter through the comms.
“On my way,” Jude’s voice says in my ear. “I’ve got a priest with me in tow. Might be able to get some answers out of him.”
“That’s fucking funny, a bride and a priest. We just need a groom…” James laughs into the comms channel.
“On my way, as well. All Russian and Irish threats are down,” Andrew says.
“Any intel on them?” Simon asks quickly.
“Very little, except some cellphones and a few wallets,” Andrew responds.
“James, as good moral strengthening, I need the thumbs of each man there,” Lucifer says into the comms.
Aw fuck, poor guy. That’s a messy job.
Walking toward the Audi, I tug the girl behind me but keep a tight grip on her wrist.
Ignoring the whining and bitching of James, I say over my shoulder, “You had your shot at getting away, and there might be more bullets flying soon. Don’t fucking move from behind me, you hear that?”
“Why?” she stutters.
“Because I’m a shit ton bigger than you and I can take one,” I say before I put her hand on my leather belt. “These guys aren’t going to be happy you’re with me. Keep your hand on my belt and don’t fuck about.”
“Okay,” she says quietly, and I feel her wrap her fingers tightly about my belt.
Releasing her wrist, I pull a new clip from the band on my hip and change them out.
“Oh yeah… You run, you’ll most likely die. I’m your only option,” I say as I move us toward the car.
Inside I can see a figure slowly turning around in the backseat. A barrel moves into view, but my finger pulls the trigger a microsecond before his. His shot goes wide as my two shots slam through his head. Another head moves in the vehicle and I blow four more shots into the back window, stopping all movement.
“Two down inside. Doesn’t look like any movement,” I say into the comms.
“Coming up behind you, Gabriel,” Jude says loudly from behind me to make sure I don’t accidentally shoot him.
“Driver and front passenger aren’t moving. Can you check ‘em?” I ask.
“Moving into position,” Jude says as I pull both me and the lady in white behind a car for protection.
“So...” Lucifer drawls over the comms. “Any sign of Alexei or Brady Callahan?”
“Negative in the back. Both got into the cars,” Andrew says. “Heading forward, I’ll assist James with the thumbs. We need to get moving.”
“Who has the priest?” I ask over the mic as some thought deep in the back of my brain lights up with an awfully interesting idea.
“Left him pissing and quivering inside the front doors,” Jude shouts back to me as he puts two bullets through the men in the car’s front seat.
“Why?” Simon asks through the radio.
Looking down at the little bride-to-be beside me, I notice the ample cleavage that’s been pushed so far up her dress it looks painful. Dragging my gaze back up to her face, her deep blue eyes are almost too intense for me. It’s like she’s looking so fucking deeply into me she can see all the shit that’s wrong inside me. She can see all the horrible things I want to do and will do to people.
She’s not backing down though, and I like that. I’ve got at least a foot on her in height, and I can’t even begin to guess what her weight is compared to mine. She’s tiny…
Tiny, but her body has curves… like holy fucking stripper curves.
“Seems like a perfectly good day for a wedding, is all,” I say, and pull the girl by her hand as I walk toward the front of the church.
“What do you mean by that?” Simon asks over the radio, and I can’t help but grin.
“You wanted bedlam and mayhem,” I say as I look down at my would-be killer.
I’m not entirely sure what my plan is past the next day, but something about her makes me want to keep her around. She’s beautiful, and she took her own destiny in her hands when she tried to put a bullet through my chest.
“Sorry about your wedding being ruined like that,” I say as we pass by Michael who’s come out of the church carrying a black trash bag, most likely full of cellphones and wallets.
It’s only when we walk into the church th
at I notice how red her exposed shoulders are from being out there in the cold. I have a long-sleeved black shirt on, but this little one had nothing but fucking lace and whatever the hell dresses are made of.
“I wasn’t exactly a willing participant in it,” she mumbles.
Her hand briefly tries to pull away from me as we pass a dead body, but then she freezes up as if I’m going to hurt her or something.
“I can’t let you go, girl…” I say as I bend over a cowering white-shrouded priest.
“Why not?” she asks loudly as I yank the man up by the collar.
“Get the fuck up,” I growl at him before I notice the huge yellow stain on the front of his robes. “Did you fucking piss yourself?”
“He did. Did it right beside me when you guys were shooting,” she says beside me and I hear the tiniest of laughs when she says it.
Looking back at her bloody and dirty dress, I don’t see an ounce of yellow anywhere on it.
“Looks like you kept your shit together,” I grin at her.
“Right up to the point where the gun didn’t work,” she grins right back at me.
I shrug my shoulders. “So you didn’t like the fucker this priest was going to marry you to?”
“I’d rather have slit my fucking wrists. It would have been me or him tonight if we were married,” she says.
“Lord help me,” the priest moans quietly as I begin to yank him down the aisle with me and the girl.
“What’s your name?” I ask, ignoring the little bitch of a priest.
“Meghan, why?” she asks before she stops dead in her tracks.
She’s so rooted to the floor, I stop to see what’s caught her attention.
James looks up at us with a frown as he snips a guy’s thumb off. “I call dibs on the next bride. I’m done with thumb duty for the next couple of lifetimes.”
“Quit your bitching,” Andrew says with a gruff laugh as he elbows him to continue.
Pulling both the quivering priest and the now pale girl past the thumb show, I say, “Andrew, I’m going to need your help.”
“With?” he asks as he tosses the bag of thumbs to James.
“Need a witness, I think. Shit, I don’t know. I ain’t ever been to a wedding,” I say, and look over at Meghan.