Page 73 of Corrupt Vows

Two assholes with rifles lean out the back of the SUV in front of us. I turn the wheel. The driver mimics my movement. I slam on my brakes, jerk the wheel in the opposite direction, and mash the accelerator.

The third vehicle swerves in response and clips the back bumper of the other SUV. I hit the space behind their back tire with my front bumper. They spin. The two idiots fall out of the second vehicle and disappear under the third.

I swerve wide to avoid the spinning vehicle as they tip and roll, leaving a trail of shattered pieces behind us.

With only one more vehicle to deal with, I leave it to Ermanno and check the little red dot’s location just in time to see them head toward the industrial park outside the city limits.

Flames fill my rearview mirror. I don’t know how Ermanno took care of the last SUV, but they won’t be chasing us.

Serenity’s scream blasts through the speakers and fabric rustles against her phone as she fights. She must have hidden it in her clothes.

I smash through the gate to the industrial park, and even though they know we’re coming, and we don’t have backup, I race across the massive lot toward Serenity.

A single black van sits several feet from a set of open double doors. Serenity struggles between two men as they lift her out of the vehicle.

A truck barrels out from between two buildings without warning and T-bones the back driver’s side of my car. Metal crunches and glass shatters in a deafening barrage of sound as the bigger vehicle smashes ours against the building. Pain blasts through me and shrapnel peppers my face and shoulders, but the front of my car retains enough of its shape to prevent Ermanno and me from becoming pancakes.

Knowing my door won’t open, I wriggle my way over the steering wheel and out the broken front window. Bullets whizz past me as the four goons between the van and the building realize I’m not dead.

With Serenity’s scream in stereo—both coming from the open double doors and echoing through my car’s speakers—I stalk forward and shoot the man closest to the building before he can enter. Crimson splatters on the man beside him. I pull the trigger several more times, preventing the remaining three goons from entering the building. Two scream and clutch their sides.

White-hot agony streaks across my thigh as the driver of the van lands a lucky shot, but even without checking, I know it’s a superficial wound.

Ermanno’s pistol sounds behind me as he takes out the drivers of the van and the truck.

I pull my longest knife from its sheath and take the last few steps toward the only man without at least one extra hole in him. His knife grazes my side. Mine sinks into his neck. With crimson spraying between his fingers, he falls to the ground.

I use my last two bullets on the guy lying on his side and bleeding out from a gut wound when he reaches into his jacket for another weapon. My empty gun clatters to the ground as I pull the second from my chest harness.

Fully aware of how dangerous the situation is, I step into the building, and despite the darkness, I thwart the men waiting to ambush me with a few vicious moves. Unwilling to pull my trigger without clear visibility and potentially hurting Serenity, I use my handgun as a blunt weapon and slice important bits with my knife. Four goons lie incapacitated just inside the door as I stalk further into the warehouse.

The silence emanating from the back terrifies me, but Ermanno assures me backup is on the way as he picks off any strays I left behind me.

There’s no need for caution or stealth, so I stride between the rows of shelves, picking off the threestronzoswho think they can take me by surprise, but when I clear the last row of shelves, I stop in my tracks.

Serenity sits in a chair surrounded by half a dozen men. All armed. One stupid motherfucker stands with his hand in her hair and his knife to her throat. With her bound wrists lying in her lap, she could push him away, but she doesn’t.

Her eyes meet mine. The world fades away. With blood trailing over her gag from her split lip and covered in grime and tiny cuts from broken glass, she’s still the most gorgeous woman on earth. The fear in her gaze infuriates the feral beast in my soul, but pride sweeps through me as she flicks her attention to the emergency exit in warning.

She’s terrified, but she’s not cowering. Despite being bound, gagged, surrounded by enemies, and having a knife to her throat, her trust and belief in my ability to save her gives her enough security to stay aware of her surroundings and prepare for the worst.

Her eyes burn with fury. With another flick of her gaze toward the emergency exit, I give a slight nod of understanding, needing her as level-headed as possible and rewarding her for telling me there’s danger lurking behind the double doors.

Ermanno joins me. Tension fills the air as we face off with six men I’ve never seen before. Their black pants, long-sleeve shirts, and caps hide any tattoos or markings they may have, so they could be from any family, clan, or gang. In fact, with only two being the same race, they seem to all be from differing houses.

“Drop your weapons unless you want one very deadputa,” says the Hispanic man holding her at knifepoint.

She hisses as he yanks her head back. Her nostrils flare and hatred flashes in her eyes.

I toss my pistol and knife aside without hesitation. Ermanno’s handgun joins mine. Serenity eyes the rifle in the hands of the man to her left. Since he’s standing and she’s sitting, the grip is level with her nose. When her stare returns to my face, I give a tiny shake of my head.

She’d better not do anything rash, and reaching for any of their weapons definitely falls under that umbrella.

“Naw, dawg, we ain’t noestupidos.Allyour weapons,” he demands.

For being the supposed leader, the man doesn’t seem to hold much authority over the others. Three give him distrusting side glances. Ermanno’s chin tilt says he sees the same lack of unity between them.

I pull the knife from my belt, drop it next to my toe, and reach for the small of my back. The man closest to me, a redhead who probably quit suckling his mom’s teats yesterday, shifts uncomfortably. Ermanno’s blade clatters to the concrete. I slip the dirk from my belt and drop it at my heels, but leave the pistol at the small of my back.

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