Page 77 of Beautiful Rush
“You son of a bitch!” Petrov wheezed, clutching his shoulder and swaying on his feet.
“Fuck you. Those were his words. A fighter until the end,” Anthony said, putting a bullet in Petrov’s head.
Anthony pointed his gun at me. “I’ll remember you when I’m fucking Keira.”
My finger squeezed the trigger at the same time a bullet exploded from Anthony’s gun.Motherfucker. I reeled back from the impact and fired another shot. My gun slipped from my hand and clattered to the concrete as the warehouse doors burst open.
“Police! Don’t move.”
My knees hit the ground, my vision blurring. White-hot pain seared my chest. I looked down at the blood, my hand covering my heart as I fell onto my shoulder.
From somewhere far away, I heard the wail of sirens. The whir of helicopter propellers. Boots on concrete. The crackle of a police radio.
I closed my eyes. Something heavy pressed down on my chest. I gasped for air, struggling to draw my next breath.
“Stay with us,” a rough voice said. “You hear me?”
They say that before you die your life flashes before your eyes. All I saw was Keira. Her face. Her smile. Her everything. I saw her in the woods, her wild hair flying behind her as she ran. In the ruins of an old hotel, climbing a staircase to nowhere. Sitting on the mountaintop, her face tipped up to the sun, a glorious smile on her face.
My barefoot Cinderella. My twisted princess.
“Would you fight for me?”
“To the death.”
“Would you be my ride or die?”
“Until my last breath.”
24
Keira
It was two in the morning, but I was too tired and too jangly to sleep, so many thoughts and memories swirling through my head that I couldn’t find peace. “Deja Vu” by Post Malone played through my headphones, canceling out the noise of the city. I was back in my old familiar place. Feet propped on the balcony railing, I stared out at the black and blue starless sky. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so lonely or so alone as I did tonight.
Reaching for the cross around my neck, I was reminded once again that it wasn’t there. Anthony had ripped it off my neck last night, leaving a raw, red welt on my skin, and tucked my necklace in his pocket before the car dropped me off at my building. After Ivan had dropped that bomb at dinner, Anthony had been distracted and on edge. Thankfully, I hadn’t seen him since. Minutes after I’d gotten inside my apartment, two federal agents had shown up at my door. They had questioned me about my involvement with Ivan Petrov and Anthony Brennan, and their ties to my father. I had answered as honestly as I could. I didn’t know their business. Had never been privy to it. I had had no contact with Anthony in over ten months and hadn’t seen Ivan in three years. They questioned me about Deacon too, asking me how much I knew about him and what he had told me about his assignment.
“He never breathed a word of it to me. We never talked about his job and I never told anyone about our relationship,” I’d said.
I had told the truth. They said they would contact me if they had any further questions.
I rubbed my hand over my chest. The dull ache in my heart wouldn’t go away. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. I didn’t have Sasha’s cross to protect me. I didn’t have Deacon here to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. I knew it wouldn’t be okay.
I knew it last night at that Russian restaurant.
My ringtone cut through the music in my headphones. I took my cell phone out of my hoodie pocket and stared at the screen.
No. No, no, no.
I answered the call and closed my eyes, wishing I could go back in time, to those two days in the Catskills. To a time before Anthony showed up at my door.
“Hello?” I knew who it was. Her name was on the screen. We had exchanged numbers before she left that Sunday. It had been Deacon’s idea.
“Hey Mom, you should take Keira’s number.”
“Hi honey. This is Faye Ramsey. I’m sorry to call you so late. It’s Deacon…”
“Is he…” I swallowed hard. She wouldn’t have called me this late if it wasn’t serious. “What happened?”
