Page 87 of Falling for the Enemy

Ari climbs to her feet and scurries past my soldiers before I can grab her. “Fucking men!” she shouts, careful to keep her head down as she pauses at the rear of the vehicle, the butt of her rifle pressed to her shoulder. “This is why I always lead!”

“Ari!”

I jump to my feet and move, passing the two idiotos I’ll likely kill later, and chase after her before she can step into the open.

I’m not fast enough.

She disappears, the crack of her bullets ripping through the air as she fires in the direction of the farmhouse, her rounds striking both human flesh and rotting wood.

“Cover her!” I scream to Christian and Benito as I follow in her wake, immediately taking aim at a mafioso that’s crouched at the corner of the wraparound porch, his pistol’s sights trained on Manzana.

Again, all it takes is one bullet.

He drops as she ascends the steps. Reaching the top, she turns, flattening her back to the windowless wall next to the front door. I quickly catch up, taking my place opposite her.

“When we get home,” I say, the sound of continuous gunfire nearly drowning out my words, “you’re going over my goddamned knee!”

Eyes on the door, she smiles. “Promise?”

My temple throbs.

“Hermosa, I swear to Cristo—”

“Are you going to kick in the door?” Her gaze flicks to me. Irises filled with fire, she nods to the wooden barrier. “Or do I need to do that as well?”

My boot meets the door, tearing it from the hinges. “Stay behind me!”

A roll of her blue eyes.

That’s the reply I receive.

I growl and step into the empty foyer. She does the same, our bodies in sync as we move through the house clearing one room after another, successfully eradicating each mafioso we encounter. Like the rats they are, most flee the safe house as if it’s a sinking ship before we reach them.

Outside, they greet an army of Kings.

Along with two pendejos belonging to me.

Upstairs, we stop at opposite sides of a closed door. Whatever room lies on the other side is the only one we haven’t cleared. If Stefano isn’t there—

Manzana turns the knob and pushes it open, then hesitates, waiting for gunfire to erupt.

When it doesn’t, she enters with me on her heels, more than ready to fill whoever lurks close by with the four bullets that remain in my last magazine.

Inside we find no one.

What we do find, however, are Stefano’s belongings. An open laptop, pressed suits hanging from a rusted rack, three pairs of custom-made loafers, gold jewelry, and a cash-filled briefcase—all are scattered throughout the dusty room.

This motherfucker!

Echoing my thoughts, Ari lowers her gun the slightest bit and inhales sharply. “This durak!” She turns to me, her gorgeous face twisted in unmistakable rage. “He escaped yet again!”

It’s not possible.

We have the property surrounded.

Footsteps pound against the creaking stairs and I move in front of my woman, putting my body between hers and the door. Aim trained on the threshold, I wait, finger poised on the trigger, for whoever it is to appear.

I don’t fire when they do.

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