Page 87 of Sunrise Malice

“I can do it.” Kim pulls herself to the edge of the bed, grunting as she does it. “Get the wheelchair.”

“No, Kim, you could mess yourself up. Please?—”

“It’s either this or burn to death.” Kim looks at me and nods. I nod back, genuinely impressed by her bravery. “Come on, help me.”

Helga pulls the wheelchair around. I lift Kim from the bed as gently as I can but she still groans in agony as I place her upright. She’s sobbing and biting her lip from the pain, but she pushes Brianne away when she goes to check on her.

“We have to go,” Kim gasps.

Helga grabs Kim’s wheelchair and pushes her into the hall. I pull Brianne with me, holding her by the hand as tightly as I can. The fire’s getting closer and smoke’s filling the hall in thick plumes. Grandpère’s room is on the other side of the building, which means the ladder isn’t an option anymore. The stairs are the only option.

Jean and the remaining soldiers are grim. I pull Brianne tight and whisper to her. “I’ll die for you,” I say and kiss her neck. “Stay in the back with Helga and Kim. I’ll get you out.”

“Julien, please,” she says but I don’t let myself give in to weakness. If I stay with her, or if I let her stay with me, she’ll die. I can’t accept that outcome.

I force my way to the front of the group and look down the stairs to the landing down below. It’s quiet and empty—and definitely a trap.

“I’m going first,” I tell Jean, checking my ammunition. Half empty. “You follow once I’m through.”

“Is this the part where we say goodbye? Where we talk about how much fun it’s been?”

I punch him in the shoulder. “Fuck that. See you down there.”

He grins huge at me and nods back.

I take a step. I take another. I think of Brianne, my wife, the first woman I’ve ever met that makes me want to be a better man, and I take another. I descend into what’s going to be a hailstorm of bullets, but maybe, just maybe, if I can survive long enough, I can carve out some space for Jean and the men to do their work. Brianne can get out. I know she can get out.

Then the shooting starts.

I pause, halfway down the steps. There’s shouting and screams, and someone calls for a retreat, but that makes no sense. I hurry down, practically leaping the final few steps, and kick open the door that leads into the industrial kitchen.

It’s a bloodbath. Bodies are scattered all over the floor, and more men are spilling out the side door. I stare around me at the wreckage before spotting Niall and Ronan shooting at a group of Serbians, forcing them to fall back.

“You crazy motherfuckers,” I tell them in frank astonishment.

Niall looks over and nearly blows my head off, but Ronan stops him in time. The big, injured Irish crime boss comes toward me, face pale, unsteady on his feet, shirt stained with blood. His shoulder is bandaged using torn rags.

“Looks like you’re in bad shape,” he says, showing teeth.

“I could say the same to you.”

“We cleared the side door. Fuckers didn’t expect me and Niall to sneak up from behind. They’re regrouping in the living room, but if we’re fast, we can make it.”

I shout up for Jean. The soldiers come down first and start barricading the kitchen doors, tipping over shelves and shoving over worktables. It won’t hold long, but it’ll help. I hurry back up the steps and scoop Kim into my arms, apologizing each time I jostle her. She’s pale and crying quietly as we get her back in the chair at the bottom of the steps.

“This way,” I say and lead the girls to the side door. Ronan’s already there standing in the delivery bay with his gun drawn, making sure the place is clear. There’s nobody around. “The fucking Serbs must not have known about this.”

“What do we do once we’re out?” Brianne asks.

Suddenly, a gunshot cracks. I jerk sideways, instinctively covering Brianne’s body with my own. Helga’s next to me, her weapon aimed and smoking. Up ahead, a man tumbles down off a nearby roof and hits the ground hard. I stare at the German woman, my mouth hanging open.

“That was one hell of a shot,” I tell her.

Helga shrugs. “It is nothing. Now, we run.”

We sprint down the loading bay and into the alley. Kim’s chair rattles and she’s moaning in pain but she says nothing. Helga’s pushing, and I’m practically carrying Brianne. Jean, Niall, and the rest of the soldiers are bringing up the rear, as shouting and shooting start in the house behind us. The Serbians must’ve broken through the barricades.

“Go, this way,” I say, turning to the main block.

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