Page 139 of Wicked Rockstar

“I was just as surprised by what happened as you were.” I held his gaze with a confidence I no longer felt.

Petrosian’s smile never reached his eyes. “You know what I think, Mr. Hook?” He nodded to someone behind me. “I think we’re done here,” Petrosian said abruptly, standing. “Mr. Hook, while your offer is intriguing to continue our partnership, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

Alarm bells went off in my head. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

We needed more time, more information.

“Now hold on,” I said, rising to my feet. “We haven’t even discussed?—”

The click of more than one gun being cocked cut me off mid-sentence. One of Nikol Petrosian’s bodyguards trained his weapon on me, while the other eyed Jack warily.

“I said, we’re done,” Petrosian repeated, his voice hard. “Did you really think I wouldn’t do my homework, Mr. Hook? Or know who you associate with?”

Shit. We’d been made.

Jack, living up to his reputation as a loose cannon, lunged at the nearest bodyguard. I dove for cover as gunshots rang out, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.

The first bullet shattered a wine glass three inches from my head, sending crimson liquid and crystal shards spraying across the white table cloth. The second tore through the fake leather seat where I’d been sitting a heartbeat earlier.

“We know you’ve been working for the DEA,” Dima roared, overturning the heavy oak table for cover.

The restaurant erupted in chaos—screams from the employees, the crash of dishes hitting the floor, the percussion of steady gunfire.

I rolled behind an overturned serving cart, wishing I could have carried a weapon, but I was lucky they didn’t find my earpiece.

Through the haze of gunsmoke, I caught glimpses of Jack. He’d somehow disarmed one of Petrosian’s men and was using him as a human shield, the bodyguard’s neck trapped in the crook of Jack’s elbow. Blood streamed down from a gash above Jack’s eye, but he was grinning that crazy smile of his—the one that meant he was riding high on the knife-edge between control and chaos.

“Killian!” Jack shouted. “Ten o’clock.”

I swiveled just in time to see one of Petrosian’s men flanking me, pistol raised. I ducked just in time.

Tris’s beautiful face flashed through my mind. Her disappointment in me palpable.

What the fuck was I doing?

I should be fighting for her.

I should have been fighting for us all along.

Instead, I was pinned down by hubris and my stupid demons. Demons I should have dealt with a long time ago.

A bullet punched through the cart beside me, spraying splinters across my cheek. The sharp sting of the wood snapped me back to reality.

I’d walked away from her last time and it broke my heart. This time I’d be breaking hers if I didn’t make it out of here alive. I hated that our last interaction had been one of anger.

I needed to get a better control of my fucking emotions. Tris deserved so much more.

Through the kitchen doorway, I spotted movement—Petrosian barked out orders at two bodyguards. They were headed for the service exit.

“Jack!” I called out. “Petrosian’s running.”

“Go!” Jack shouted. “I’m good.”

Judd’s voice cracked through my earpiece. “We’re entering the building now.”

“Cover’s blown. Jack’s engaged. Petrosian is making a break for it—the east service corridor. I’m heading out after him.”

“Stand down Killian. We’ve got this.”

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