Page 5 of King of Sinners

“Not going to happen.” And then he levels the gun, I hear it rest it on top of the roof of his car to steady his shot. “New plan.”

I’ve stopped looking at the men who were chasing me, my gaze now fixed on the driver. At least what I can see of him. He’s familiar.

And his baritone voice has this rich, deep honey that reminds me of…

“You two are going to run. And I’m going to give you until the count of five before I start to fire. I suggest you begin. One.”

Something on the gun clicks and it sends both of the other men into action. Reversing direction, they sprint down the street away from the car.

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.” His voice raises with every number he ticks off, the two men moving further away until the first one turns down an alley, diving out of sight.

“Five,” he bellows and then he swings into the car, weapon still in hand as he shuts the door.

In one motion, he tosses the gun in the back seat and then throws the car in gear, peeling out and gunning the vehicle down the next alley.

I gasp, grabbing the door handle as I realize I haven’t even put on a seat belt.

“Duck,” he grits out, taking a hard left as another gunshot rings out behind us. I hear the tink of metal as the bullet hits the car.

My head is between my knees in a second, my breath heaving in and out of my lungs as I try not to vomit.

Squeezing my eyes shut, the car picks up speed, turning right and then left, and then right again. “You can sit up now.”

Slowly I raise my head, my breath anything but even.

I’m trembling all over as I swallow down a lump. “Are they following us?”

“No.” he answers, racing down the street at what must be eighty miles an hour. I don’t mind.

But the knowledge that what just happened is behind me, doesn’t stop the trembling. If anything, I just shake harder. It’s like some kind of delayed reaction that I can’t control.

I have no idea how he manages it, but his jacket, still warm from his body lands across my lap. “Put it on.”

I do as I’m told, automatically. I don’t even think.

Pushing a few buttons on the console, the sound of a phone ringing echoes through the cabin of the car. I press my cheek to the cool glass. Maybe I should be worried about where we’re going or what this man’s intentions are. Instead, I close my eyes.

“Hello,” another deep male voice answers.

The driver hits another button to transfer the call and then picks up his cell phone so I can’t hear the other side of the conversation. “I need the boss now.”

Boss? Who’s boss? Boss of what?

I can hear the man on the end of the phone speak, but I don’t catch the words.

“Pull him out.”

More words that are too muted for me to make out. “Because. There’s been an incident with Charlotte.”

That has me sitting straight up. How does this guy know my name?

I look over, taking in the profile of the man I climbed into the car with, and my blood runs cold. It’s Leo and Mason’s youngest brother, Roman.

Older, harder than I remember, but the man next to me is definitely the youngest Kincaid.

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