Page 54 of Hostile King

Voices yell against the backdrop of screaming emergency service vehicles. Another bullet burrows into the silver aluminum passenger door beside us. Immediately, Tomás slams into me so we tumble backward, limbs entwined and chests colliding.

“Don’t…move. Stay still,” he hisses under his breath, straining to get the words out, his eyes rolling, the effort to stay conscious becoming a hopeless battle. “Whatever happens, don’t move. If he shoots, play dead.”

This can’t be how it all ends. I didn’t travel through endless darkness to only peek at the light I finally found inside of me. I want to figure out if he really is the jagged toothed puzzle piece that interlocks with my rough edges.

Yet, I’m trapped under his weight, my huddled form screened by the man I love. Worst of all, he’s mortally injured, and I’m jinxed having dodged death twice already.

This time, I won’t be so lucky.

When I hear the air crack, I squeeze my eyes shut waiting for the fallout. I’m begging inwardly and clawing at his jacket to move him out of harm's way. He won’t budge. Steadfast in his mission to become the sole target.

Instead of one clean shot, lead rains. Every loud bang makes me flinch. Tiny missiles pelt the jammed vehicles like insects clad in plated armor.

Innocent by-standers flee their vehicles.

Car doors slam. Children cry.

I close my eyes briefly, to think, to breathe coppery tainted musk into my lungs. Tomás’ muscular physique bares down on top of me, motionless, all of him safeguarding me completely. I raise my head a little and steal a look at the gunman from over his shoulder.

The bastard is slumped on the road in a creeping dark red puddle, mushy brains melting into the white striped paint of a pedestrian crossing like spilled ice-cream. The stench of death hits me as the hot sun coagulates his blood.

My heart rate spikes. Someone else took him out.

“Tomás…” my soft whisper carries in the brief hush. “We can make a run for it now…time to go…come on.”

He doesn’t respond when I shake him.

“Tomás!” My tone raises a notch to panic-stricken.

I cup his jaw, the coarseness of his scruff unable to hide clammy, cool skin.

The air grows thicker, and my breathing grows faster. I nudge him again, but his eyes don’t open. He feels empty, drained of life, stripped of strength. And with that hollowness within him, I choke back my terror.

My heart thumps like crazy, trying its best to burst out of my chest and support his. A temporary armistice ends with a rattle of bullets. It’s a living nightmare. Shivers of adrenaline crash over me in mighty waves.

I’m patting his sallow cheek, searching his sinewy neck for a pulse, and grappling with his weakened muscles. I’m too distracted by the blood he’s losing to give a shit about anything else.

The power-hungry Colombian drug lord is at my mercy. He’s offered himself as a sacrifice to save the young girl he found in an alleyway, tarnished with his father’s blood.

And now I’m drenched in his.

“Over here!” A masculine voice bellows. “Follow me.” Pounding footsteps move closer.

My lashes flick upwards, terrified his enemies have found us. The dazzling sunlight burns my teary eyes. Perhaps it’s the hope in our combined darkness, shining on us both, promising something more than anarchy. I squint at the silhouettes charging our way. Armed mercenaries wearing black facial scarves approach in a quad formation. Only their eyes are visible.

I won’t go down without a fight.

“Tomás…” I angle his weight to the right and watch long inky lashes flutter.

“Leave me here, Cari…run,” he mumbles. “Get to the airport. Steal a fucking car if you have to.” I ignore his order and run my fingers down his thigh, traveling to his shin bone. “Now’s not the time to get horny, baby. The Feds will be here any second.” He grunts from the back of his throat in a delirious half laugh. “Although, I’d die a happy man if you rode my dick to the pearly gates and left me there.”

“Pearly gates? Don’t you mean the infernal elevator doors to Hell,” I joke as a distraction, even though I’m anything but amused. “I’m not leaving you anywhere, and if you leave me, I’ll never forgive you.”

Emergency services’ sirens scream in the backdrop of chaos. Adrenaline injects my survival instincts. I unclip the small knife I know he hides under his trouser leg and fist the bone handle, chanting a silent oath to use it without fear. Masked gunmen close in, their psychotic eyes like stoic terminators lock on our coordinates.

They’ve found us.

I take quick sips of oxygen to prepare myself for whatever happens next. It won't be pretty. I’ll stab these guys in the jugular if I have to. No regrets.

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