Page 17 of Dragon Bodyguard
They still had more than an hour and a half to go. Misha couldn’t very well have this conversation in front of Oliver. And still, he was about to turn around and ask her outright whether she had ever felt anything at all for him.
Her actions should tell him everything he needed to know.
Oliver hit the gas and the car was beginning to speed up as Misha shifted in his seat.
A movement outside the driver’s side window caught his eye.
He had time to let out a yell for everyone to get down before the front of another car rammed into the side of theirs.
A cacophony of noise followed: steel screaming, glass shattering. He covered his head, ducking down against the impact.
Once the cars had come to a halt, he raised his head, taking in the fortified grill of the other car, seeing movement beyond the smashed windows. Men getting out. Armed men.
Oh, fuck.
This was no accident.
This was an attack.
Chapter 6 - Kristina
She was shaking like a leaf, leaning forward on her seat, head tucked under her arms, forehead against the back of Misha’s seat. Her ears were ringing from the screech of tires. She couldn’t tell if she was in pain from injury or if it was shock that was tightening her joints into an aching mess.
An accident.
They’d been in an accident.
And the thought came bright and blinding: she had to check on the others.
“Mish…?” she said, voice trailing off as his hand found hers in a tight grip. “You okay?”
“I’m okay. You okay?”
“Yes, what—?”
“We have to move,” he interrupted, his hold on her hand tightening for a second before she lost her grasp on his fingers. Or perhaps he’d let go. She couldn’t be sure. Everything was a blur, her thoughts a disorganized chaos inside her head. Impressions jumbling one with the other, but his hand had been something to focus on. Where had he gone? “Don’t worry,” his voice came again, this time right beside her and she realized he’d opened the car door and was now right next to her.
“What?” she mumbled, growing even more confused.
Her eyes met his. His gaze was calm, encouraging, but his eyes were wide, as if he was trying to convince her of something. His hands were gently pushing her back. She didn’t understand why she was meant to simply sit back in her seat, but then he reached over her, unclasping her seatbelt.
Oh.
His hands were guiding her out of the car. She realized she was shaking, and no matter how she tried to get a hold of herself, she couldn’t stop.
Once they had taken a few steps away from the car, one of his arms around her waist as support, her legs feeling like Jell-O, she watched, as if in slow motion, how he reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun, aiming it—inexplicably—at the car.
He fired.
Once, twice, three times.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, hands on her head as she ducked down.
“No, no,” he told her, hand slipping from her waist to place itself firmly under her arm, getting her to straighten again. “We have to move.”
“Movewhere? What ishappening?” He fired another shot. “Will youstop that?”
Then she saw who he was shooting at, and her heart nearly stopped in her chest. There were so many of them. They were all in their human shape, but the fact that they were large, burly dragons wasn’t lost on her. These were bad men who came to do bad things. They were all armed and they were shooting back. The fact that she hadn’t even noticed jerked her out of her shocked stupor and back to reality.
