Page 106 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
MADS
I stare downat the scene in front of the house, shivering in horror and fascination. None of this feels real, watching it from high up in the tower with the hills of my childhood as the backdrop. Witnessing Anthony move through bad guys like a hot knife through butter is a weird combination of terrifying and erotic.
Because I know he’s doing it for me.
He goes back into the house with Hopper and two people I don’t recognize, leaving so many dead bodies on the front lawn it looks like a bad Halloween joke.
“Mads.”
Even expecting it, I startle and spin around, hand to my chest.
“Anthony!” I cry out, limping to him.
Collapsing against him, I sob into his chest. “I knew you would come for me. I told them. I told my father you would kill them all.”
“I helped,” Hopper pipes up, grinning.
“Hey, Hop. How are you—”
I scream as a man comes up behind Hopper. Hop spins right into the incoming blow of a man who’s got bowling balls for fists. Hopper's legs wobble, then go out from under him. The man strips the blade from Hopper's hands, cursing at him in Russian before spitting on him.
Anthony shoves me behind his body, and the man is on us before he even has a chance to draw a weapon. He slashes out, leaving a scarlet line across Anthony’s ribs, who brushes it off and keeps going. The guy with the knife parries, and Anthony ducks, rabbit-punching his ribs in retaliation.
I duck behind them and go to Hopper. His eyes are still unfocused—the guy rang his bell pretty hard. He tries to get up but loses his balance. He starts pawing at his chest and comes away with a knife hidden in an inner pocket of his combat vest.
He holds it up to me. “Don’t hesitate to put a hole in the guy if you can.”
I nod, trying to get my hands to stop shaking. The knife isn’t that long, but it has heft and feels good in my hand. I glance over and watch in horrified fascination as Anthony once again becomes Edgerton.
The bad guy brings the knife down in a double-handed fist hold, but Anthony rocks back to avoid the knife before stepping forward into his gait. This takes the bad guy off-balance, but after sweeping the man’s ankles, Anthony pulls back, a deep gash to the underside of his arm.
“Brachial artery!” I shout out, closing the distance.
Anthony shakes his head, gesturing for me to stay back as he grits his teeth in pain. The guy, who still doesn’t acknowledge me, raises his knife. Terrified, I look down at the knife in my hand and know I cannot hesitate. Fast as I can, I punch the blade into his armpit, then draw it back and do it again and again and again.
This gives Anthony time to regain his fighting stance, and he punches up with his good arm, nailing the guy in the temple, causing him to stagger. Grabbing the back of his head, Anthony yanks him down as he brings his knee up to the man’s face. The guy falls back against the wall, bloodied and unrecognizable.
I grip my knife, which drips with his blood, hoping I’m ready for whatever happens next. Anthony, however, looks like he’s done playing around. He removes his gun from the holster and, without a second’s hesitation, pushes the muzzle under the bad guy’s chin. His eyes widen in fear, and Anthony grins.
He pulls the trigger, and the light goes out from the man’s eyes right as the top of his head explodes. He falls to the floor, dead.
“Good one,” Hopper says, still wobbly as he uses the dresser to pull himself to standing.
Anthony turns to find me with my mouth open in shock. Murder bleeds into concern, and he holsters his gun, approaching me with care.
“Mads, I—”
I step forward and cup his face in my hands, not wanting him to doubt us for a second. “You saved me, Anthony. Just like you said you would.”
Blood drips down his arm in rivulets, and he’s holding himself like maybe everything in his body hurts, but the beaming love in his eyes is all I need.
I go up on my tiptoes, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. It’s not near enough for him, apparently, and he wraps me up in his good arm and pulls me into a deeper, sweeter, needier kiss.
“Uh, guys. This is still an active op,” Hopper gently reminds us, awkward as he rubs the back of his head.
Anthony and I crack up, laughing into another sweet kiss. “Sorry, Hop. I just needed to make sure my boyfriend was okay.”
A gorgeous, built man with long blond hair appears in the doorway with a syringe roughly the size of my arm. “Hey, I’m Anders, and this is Everett,” he says, pointing behind him to a silver fox with muscles and tattoos for days. “Any injuries to report?”
