Page 60 of King’s Promise

Roman returns fire like the pro he is, puts in another clip, and waves his right hand for us to advance. I follow him, weapon drawn, finger on the trigger as we walk around fallen Irishmen judging by the Celtic tattoos on their forearms. I’m hoping this is over before the bobbies arrive.

A unit of men on the other side of town creating a distraction to limit the availability in our area should our mission become exposed. Even with suppressors on our weapons, the area is densely populated. Citizens don’t like guns in general, bullets flying by their windows is frowned upon. We need to get in and out quickly.

A man is down with a wound in his leg, but he motions us on. I take a hit in my chest, it winds me, but I struggle to stay on my feet and focus on finding Anya. My arm is bleeding, I don’t feel much. As long as I can carry my machine gun and the Sig on my belt, I’ll walk until I die.

It seems like an eternity before we surround the house. In reality it probably took less than a minute. Roman uses a small detonator to blow the door and the noise is deafening. We pause to recover from the blast before we storm the old house. I follow Roman to the basement.

He tosses a flash grenade inside the door we breach. I hate to think of Anya in there with munitions, but it’s our only option to stun our opponents.

Smoke fills the air, my ears ring, we advance. Roman fires at the first man he sees, and I step over the large Russian who’s dead before he hits the ground. The second wave of our attack worked. I squeeze the trigger and kill a man who is still on the ground, and stomp on his chest out of sheer anger as I pass.

George was right, the Russian was one of my disloyal soldiers, just as he described him: large, burly and without remorse.

My eyes burn as I peer through the smoke and rubble. I make out a figure in a chair ahead of me. Is it my mind playing tricks on me or is it her? I continue to walk, my chest hurts like a son of a bitch, because my vest caught a second bullet. I trudge on.

Anya! I rejoice because seeing her face means my prayers are answered. She has a cloth shoved in her mouth, her face is dirty and swollen, her eyes wide with terror.

I pull a pocket knife from my belt; I cut through her zip ties and pull the gag out of her mouth. The confusion in the basement leaves no room for words. No one can hear. It’s as if we’re underwater and the words are muffled.

Sergei steps out of the shadows with a handgun poised on me. To my left, Roman has a gun zeroed in on him. Sergei’s face is filled with surprise from the attack and his crazy eyes meet mine. I pull my revolver and shoot but not before he gets a round off, hitting my shoulder. Roman fires at him as well.

The dust settles. Sergei is dead. Our adrenaline rush is over and I’m in need of air, stitches, and Anya’s arms around me. Roman and Anya help me walk and we clear the old crack house. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud. I take her face in my hands and kiss her, but it’s short, we have to move. Our cleaners are here picking up the brass and carrying away our fallen who didn’t make it.

Anya holds my hand in the back seat, her tears fall on my face as I’m slumped in her lap. I’m whisked away to the closest safe house outfitted as an emergency room and where our doctor has been on standby all day.

“I’m fine. It’s over,” I mumble before I pass out.

* * *

I hearan IV beeping when I come to and wiggle my toes. I can feel them, what a relief. I’m not in my own bed. Fuck, that’s not a good sign. The lights are dim, and yet the most beautiful woman in the world is looking into my eyes. She reassures me I’m going to be fine. I raise a hand to touch her head and pull her lips to mine as I close my eyes and enjoy the sweetest kiss I’ve ever known.

“I love you, Anya. I have ever since we were kids. I meant what I said then. I’m going to marry you.” I grin. Far be it for me to not keep a promise.

Tears stream down her face. “You remembered. I did, too! Your cologne smells like the flowers we walked through. I didn’t know you were the boy who pulled my braids and gave me my first kiss until this week.”

I nod. “I never forgot you; it was easier to live with you safely out of my reach.”

“I love you, Nikolay, but you need to rest,” she whispers against my cheek. The warmth of her close to me is the only medicine I need. She changed into clean clothes while I slept and now she crawls into the hospital bed with me, snuggling under my uninjured arm.

“How bad am I?”

“A few broken ribs, a bullet hole in your shoulder. The doctor said you’ll be fine. The ribs will take the longest to heal.”

“I’m sure, it’s not the first time my ribs have been broken. I guess I’ll need another tattoo to cover this scar.” I nod to my left shoulder.

“I kind of like it. By the way, I found the cuff links in the pockets of your jeans.”

“They made it. I kept them for good luck,” I explain.

“They must be.” She raises her head, smiles and kisses me tenderly before she lays her head on my chest carefully as it’s bandaged tightly.

“Fuck, my ribs hurt.”

“I can move,” she suggests.

“Don’t you dare think of moving. I want to go home.” The pain tells me I’m alive. And for now, it’s enough. Life, and Anya by my side, is all I need.

Fuck, my shoulder burns and my thoughts drift. I pull Anya to me, comforted by her presence and admission of love. It’s as if we’re kids again, and the thrill of my first love returns like it was yesterday, only we’re grown and about to tie the knot.

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