Page 75 of Sweet Deception
Of course we are. In trouble.
The head of the Irish Kings Mafia wants to interrogate me, and Darren’s father does too. I wonder what the man’s like. If he’s an even more terrifying version of his son, I doubt I’ll survive whatever’s next unscathed.
Just as the download finishes, Darren’s phone shrills, making me jump out of my seat. He’s standing so close to me that when he answers the call, I can hear the person on the other end.
“Son, where the fuck are you?”
My eyes snap to Darren’s face. Even Piro pops out of my shirt to gaze at him. Something in his father’s voice tightens his jaw as he quickly explains the situation and insists we’re on our way back.
On that last sentence, he shoots me an easy-to-read look.We’re out of here.
I hand him the drive, now fully loaded with the proof we came for, and we duck out of my office. Darren marches toward the door, but without knowing how long I’ll be away from home, I rush into my bedroom for my grandmother’s music box next to the bed?—
Out of nowhere, an enormous hand slams over my mouth.
A strangled scream escapes me as I’m dragged backward by an assailant I can’t see, his heavy breath hot on my shoulder.
Darren positions himself in front of me. “Don’t move,” he warns.
I hold still and clutch Piro to my chest as Darren whips a gun from his waistline. He fires. I don’t even have time to flinch before the bullet whizzes past the left side of my face and connects with its target.
The hand on my mouth and the arm coiled around me fall away as the man collapses to the floor. I stand paralyzed yet trembling.
A hugethudshakes the apartment’s foundation when my assailant hits the ground. Trembling, I stare at Darren with unblinking eyes. He lowers his weapon but doesn’t put it away.
Before a single coherent word passes my lips, alarm rearranges his features. “Nika, get down and run!”
Gunfire erupts through my bedroom window. I dive into the hall toward my living room. Adrenaline blinds me as I smack into the glass-top side table next to my couch.
With a cry, I crumple, protecting Piro as the table comes down with me, shattering against the ground. I sprawl out on the hardwood floor, head spinning. Agony sears through me, but I’m too disoriented to clock the source.
Sights and sounds reach my mind in slow motion.
In the hall, Darren exchanges gunfire with a second assailant, maybe more. I’m not sure because I can’t see.
They must be the same guys who came for me the last time.
And Darren’s rescuing me again in this horrible déjà vu scenario.
The skirmish doesn’t last long. Soon, my protector comes flying into the living room and finds me on the floor. “We have to leave. Troy and his goons have returned.”
“Let’s go.” I start to push myself up, but my leg buckles and I cry out in pain.
My left leg. My sweats are ripped, and glass shards from the side table cut up my thigh. I’m not bleeding much yet, but walking might prove difficult.
Darren must be thinking the same thing, because he scoops me up in his arms princess-style and hoists me off the floor.
Instinctively, my arms circle his neck. He carries me through the front door and into the hallway.
“Emergency stairwell?” His eyes dart down the hall, probably searching for anyone else who’d like to kill us this evening. Maybe they took numbers, like my grandmother used to at the deli counter.
I tighten my arms, wondering if my mind’s starting to grow hazy. “Around the corner to your right.”
Darren jogs down the hall toward the big, partially rusted metal door with the redEMERGENCY EXITsign hangingoverhead. He kicks it open, and then we’re descending through the dim, muggy darkness of the stairwell, faulty motion-sensor lights flickering on as he takes the steps two at a time with his long legs.
Being carried downstairs in the dark is a different kind of scary than I’m used to, but for some reason, I trust Darren completely. I squeeze my eyes shut whenever he does something especially dangerous, like jumping down the last several stairs onto the final landing before we reach the exit on the ground floor. But otherwise? The man could pass for a hot firefighter, and I’ve never felt safer in anyone’s arms.
We sweep out into the night, Darren keeping close to the edge of the building as we creep around toward the car. Our heads swivel left and right, searching for more guests, but there’s no one.
