Page 83 of Captured By the Bratva

Alek and I rushed at him together, stopping him from firing his gun at us. We were younger, fitter, and faster, and he’d never have a chance to overpower us up close. I hadn’t wanted him to fire his gun yet. The sound would’ve alerted Dominic and his men in the other, bigger gallery, and I didn’t want them to react and fire around Becca.

As Alek and I secured the crooked cop who thrashed and fought to get free, we were joined by Dom and Becca.

“You motherfucker!” Dom pushed Becca further into the room. His gun was aimed at her head, but when he spotted Murphy, he switched to aiming at him.

I grabbed Alek to pull him back, and Murphy lifted his gun to point at Dom.

Becca stared at me, hands up and eyes wide as she started to angle away from Dom.

He noticed, not taking his eyes off Murphy. “Stop. Stop right where you are,” he ordered her.

She stiffened, stopping in her tracks.

I licked my lips, staring at her and willing her to understand that I would not let her down. With all the weapons in here, all the anger directed every which way, I would not fail her.

Because I love you. So fucking much.The suspense killed me, squeezing my heart and making my head ache. I was overwhelmed with the urge to run to her and bring her to safety.

Alek’s grip on my sleeve stopped me from moving as we waited to see who’d shoot first.

“You lying motherfucker,” Dom repeated, lashing out at Murphy. “You changed the plans for the drugs.”

“I didn’t change anything,” Murphy scowled. “I just decided to start acting on the plan. You were taking too long, so I started selling what I had on hand from the first batch.”

Dom locked his arm, growling as he held the gun higher. “That’s bullshit!”

“You weren’t moving fast enough,” Murphy argued. “There was money to be made, and if you wanted to be lazy and not go for it, I was. Besides.” He scowled at me and Alek. “I was sick and tired of trying to bring their fucking Bratva down.”

“You idiot!” Dom thrust his gun out again, reclaiming Murphy’s attention.

I looked at Becca again, wishing she could see the desperate hope in my eyes. That she could understand that we just had to see how this would play out. If Alek or I reached for our guns, they’d shoot us first.

Patience, sweetheart. Please. Trust me and be patient.

“My mistress died from that shit,” Dom shouted. “My favorite mistress, a lover like no other. That crapkilledher!”

“Not my problem.” Murphy shook his head. “I just want my half of the drugs and we’ll call it even.”

“No!” Dom stepped forward, closer to Becca, but stared at Murphy. “I want to wash my hands of it all. I want that shit secured—on my property and under my control. I needto concentrate on building up my family and focusing on the Rossini name and power before going after any rivals.” He spared us a disdainful glance.

“You’re not getting anything from me,” Murphy yelled as he lifted his gun higher.

A well-honed instinct was all the premonition I needed.

I lunged, diving for Becca just as they fired at each other. I crashed to the cement floor, rolling to take the brunt of the impact and move her to safety, out of the range of gunfire.

She gripped me, holding me close as we slammed to a stop against the wall. I braced my hand on the back of her head, cushioning the blow, and once we hit the surface, I breathed through the hard hit.

She lay in my arms, patting at me frantically. “Were you—Are you—Were you hit?”

I shook my head, looking her over and also checking for any blood or wounds.

“He was,” Alek answered from the middle of the room. He kicked Dom’s shoe, proving that the Mafia Don was indeed dead. A bullet clean through the head would do that, a clean shot right between his eyes.

Becca gagged, scrambling to stand and get away from her rapist, now a body to be disposed of. I held her hands, helping her up and keeping myself between her and Murphy.

Alek had his gun trained on him as he walked closer, and as I shielded Becca, I raised my gun as well.

“You stupid bitch!” he roared. Struggling to sit up, he showed us his blood-stained shirt, soaking from Dom’s shot.

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