Page 53 of Hostile King

He’s in no state to fight, and I’m not about to let the bastards take him from me either.

I maneuver myself out from under him, carefully lower his upper half to the ground and pick up his gun, fully aware of the heaviness of the flashy revolver in my hand. It doesn't belong there, however the cold steel settles in my fingers like it should. It’s not the first time I’ve handled a weapon and undoubtedly won't be the last.

The fine craftsmanship is exquisite as if carved by death itself. I do my best to focus, to block out the high-pitched alarms and wailing sirens, and hold back the wave of panic-stricken nausea taking control.

Beneath all the distractions, a muted yell follows a battering drumbeat. I scurry on hands and knees to the rear of the car. I chance a peek, setting my sights on the station wagon in the distance where the young boy fists the window again and mouths out the words ‘over there.’

Drawing my gaze to where he’s pointing, I catch a glimpse of a rifle poking out from the side of the trunk opposite his.

It’s pointed right at us.

I hold my breath, fingers curled tightly, heart pumping, skull aching.

I count every wild heartbeat to keep me in the zone while I squeeze my left eye shut and take aim with my right.

One. Two. Three.

As the shooter dips out from his hiding place, I snap the trigger. The speeding bullet misses, puncturing a thick tire instead. Only I’m not put off by my crappy aim. Practice makes perfect after all, and I need to get Tomás to safety before it's too late. There are too many unanswered questions, knotted feelings, and disturbed emotions. Too much love to unleash.

Despite what he did to Bianca, he’s saved me too many times.

And for that, I owe him my life and my loyalty.

My finger squeezes continuously, shooting sonic booms as precisely as I can at a jack-in-the-box target. Luckily, I clip the guy’s shoulder, halting him briefly. Until I pull the cold hard steel again and nothing happens. No fatal shot speeding across the battlefield. No winning bullseye spearing his evil heart.

“Shit!” I growl under my breath and pivot back around to face Tomás.

He drags a bloodied hand across his jaw, tries to haul himself upright and hisses through clenched teeth when his abdomen muscles move. “Get over here,” he barks, eyes dark and teeth bared.

I land beside him on my torn-up knees, not caring how grit digs into my bare shins or how tiny stones scuff the brand-new leather of the Doc Martens he’d bought for me, because this wounded man is my savior. Our warped universe had a plan all along. Tomás Souza would be my biggest challenge of all.

The man I give my fragile heart to.

Tomás reaches up and pinches my chin, digging sullied fingertips into the flesh, hard enough to make it seem uncaring. I shiver at the harshness. Even now, he takes control with only his skin on mine, and I love it.

A ferocious gaze latches mine, melting me into the hot cement. I swallow the flutter in my throat and relish the wicked burn of his touch. He quickly draws my face lower and catches a kiss, tasting me for an endless moment in the midst of war.

“You’re a fire starter, baby,” he mumbles into my mouth, his breath hot. “You’ve started a fire inside of me, and I fucking love you for it.” Tomás swallows the confession like it pains him to admit it. “You’re not just a ray of sunshine splitting through the darkness—you're the whole sun. Your light reaches me here.” He throws his hand to his temple and taps lightly. “But most of all, you’re in here.” Crimson colored fingers slide from the corner of his eye, down his pale cheek until his palm settles over his heart. “You think you’re the only misfit out there. Truth is…the whole world is broken, and none of the pieces fit together.”

He thumbs my cheek. “Now get the fuck out of here and never look back.”

16

CARINA

He actuallylovesme.

I’m overwhelmed by his statement, and completely shocked. I had pressed him to say it in the hotel, to say that littlebigword, except when it finally left his tongue, the truth saddened me. Maybe it was the way he spoke, how his tone reeked of defeat as if he was in a confessional booth offloading his vices before death.

Or maybe I’m just not sure how to deal with it.

How do I stand beside a ruthless man who steals lives without thinking twice?

I understand the logic of an eye for an eye in war. But premeditated murder for the whole country to see? That’s unpredictable, psycho shit. The shock of it hurts my heart, but the reality of him dying—that crushes every fiber of my existence.

No matter what unforgivable deeds tarnish his soul, I’m stupidly and uncontrollably in love with him.

“You’re wrong…” I nuzzle my forehead to his and blink away the tears I won’t let fall, feeling fuzzy and confused in my obsession for him. “Some of the pieces fit together. They just need a bit of glue.” He moves his hand to my nape and fists my hair to keep me close, our breathing heavy on the precipice of a disaster. “I’m not running from this. Not yet,” I whisper.

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