Page 22 of Lethal Hearts

Mikhail ducked under the wheel and hoped Vince and his men did the same. Calm as a cucumber, Mikhail opened the compartment under his dashboard and took out his emergency gun for occasions like these.

The mini-uzi fitted his hand like a secondary limb. He checked the magazine just in case. Seeing it was full, Mikhail smiled to himself. Don Juan’s driver and hit man had stopped firing. Don Juan was shouting obscenities at them from the safety of the car.

Mikhail kicked his door open. Spotting him, the driver’s eyes widened. The hit man—a balding man in his thirties with a fading neck tattoo, fumbled for another gun in his jacket.

Aiming carefully, Mikhail got the hit man between his eyes. Seeing his companion fall to the street, his skull cracked open, and the driver tried to return to his seat. Maybe he thought being inside the car would prolong his life.

Mikhail didn’t let him. Usually, he avoided unnecessary casualties if he could, but not today. If Harper died, along with their unborn child, Mikhail would never be able to forgive him.

He didn’t just care for his wife. In a short span of time, Harper had become essential to him, like the air he drew inside his lungs. Mikhail shot the driver in the back and the man fell into a crumpled heap by the car door. He nodded to Vince and his men, who surrounded their remaining target, their guns drawn. Mikhail calmly walked to his enemy.

Don Juan nervously dabbed a stained white handkerchief over his forehead. He glowered at Mikhail but didn’t bother getting out of the car. He stayed exactly where he was.

“You made an error,” was the first thing Mikhail said.“I’m surprised you went on this drive.”

“I wanted to see you and your bitch dead up close,” Don Juan answered.“Failing to kill you, Alfonso Valenti and his bitch daughter, made me weak in my allies’ eyes.”

“Your desperation ended up being your downfall,” Mikhail said. He rested the barrel of his gun at Don Juan’s temple. The older man didn’t slap the gun away. He stilled, and Mikhail knew all the fight had left him. There was no fun killing a man who lost all sense of hope, but this unsavory task had to be done nonetheless.

“Any last words?” Mikhail asked.

“Fuck you,” Don Juan said with a spat. With that, Mikhail ended his life. Don Juan’s body slumped backward, his skill partially caved in from the blast. He shook his head and turned to Vince.

“Have this cleaned up.” Mikhail paused and looked over his shoulder.“Return the body to his family.”

Juan Garcia didn’t have any heirs to carry on his legacy and his lieutenants were cutthroats and opportunists. The Garcia Cartel would fall to shambles at the news of Don Juan’s passing, with the survivors scrambling for the scraps. Mikhail retuned to his car, glad this matter had been resolved once and for all.

He gave Rolf a call first. Rolf answered right away.“Boss?” Rolf asked.

“My wife?” Mikhail asked.

“I’ve driven her home. We’re safely back at the apartment,” Rolf said.“Would you like to speak to her? She’s been worried sick.”

Mikhail could hear police sirens in the background. Someone probably heard the gunshots and called them. The last thing he needed was to deal with some coppers. It was best he left Vince and his guys to clean the scene, then order them to make a hasty exit.

If the cops did arrive before they finished their job, then some bribes needed to be exchanged but Mikhail didn’t anticipate any problems.

“Tell Harper I’ll be home soon,” Mikhail informed Rolf.

“Will do, Boss,” Rolf answered.

Half an hour later, Mikhail entered their home. Harper was pacing in the living room. Spotting him, his wife ran up to him and hugged him tightly. Mikhail smiled fondly down at her, then stroked her hair. He didn’t speak until she stopped trembling.

“I was worried I’d never see you again,” she whispered, looking up at him.“You shouldn’t go racing after the people who just tried to kill us, not without a solid plan.”

“That was an exception,” Mikhail reassured him.“But now we don’t have to worry about Don Juan any longer.”

“Truly?” she asked, eyes widening.

“Truly,”Mikhail confirmed.

“I love you, Mikhail Konstantin,” she murmured, cupping his cheek.

“Love you back, baby,” Mikhail answered.

He kissed her slowly on the mouth and rested one hand against her flat belly.“Now we focus on us and our family.”

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