Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Need to get to that tree line.” Enzo maintained a crouched position behind the pit. “You ready, fra?”
Nae! I’d never be ready to have shots flying at my rear. “Yep.” I offered, demeanor calm, adrenaline keyed up. I glanced up the hill. A bullet whizzed past me. Pressed against the firepit, I fired blindly, my arm and muscle memory guiding the shot. Looked again. Blood soaked into the snow-covered ground near the head of a man in white tactical gear. “One down.”
“Smile. This could be fun.” Enzo patted my shoulder. “My turn.”
Bullets riddled the air when he took a quick peek up the hill. Enzo glanced again. Exchanged a single shot. “One and one. After we grab those sweet guns they left for us, let’s continue to count our kill shots, fra?”
“Sure. Let’s push for the trees. Now. Now.”
We vaulted off the deck, boots crunching into icy snow, zigzagging through the trees to make it difficult for the shooters. My heart pounded in my chest. A warning. I’d gone farther away from Jordyn. I led. Enzo covered the rear, shooting anything that moved.
Needed to get to cover.
Snow sprayed like mist as bullets tore through the powder. These guys lacked the training of the team Aleksandr sent to my house. These must’ve been his own, not hired. Not professional. The tactical gear they wore blended into the snowy atmosphere made me think otherwise. Now, I knew better.
I clipped one man, trying to flank us with a bullet to his shoulder. He dropped his weapon as he fell to the ground. He cussed in Russian before my Glock met his forehead. Aye, the Bratva’s own men. Vicious up-close, not nearly half as deadly behind a gun.
I pulled the trigger. Took his Ruger. “I’ve got one bullet in the chamber. You want this one?” I held out the gun.
Enzo shook his head. “Nah. Your trophy. One-two. Next one’s mine.”
We moved like ghosts through the tree line. Enzo now fisted the weapon of another dead stiff. Bullets tore through the bark around us.
“We’re surrounded,” I growled. “At least six. One’s covering the back trail. Two on the ridge.”
“Listen, we gotta get that sniper—”
“I saw the glint.” I ducked behind a pine. “They’re flanking.” The men were trying to get around us.
Another round rang out. The sniper. Well, he must’ve been cherishing those bullets. And he must’ve shifted. Higher up. A better vantage point to the house. The men on the hill were a diversion—here for us.
The sniper was for my family and must be eliminated. I hoped Mam or Brody would give me a sign if they needed help in the cabin.
32
BIG BEAR
Jordyn
Days Free: 3
Nan handled her meat tenderizer. Brody’s bullet ended the man she bashed over the head. I reached for a weapon of my own—the ceramic pan in the drying rack. I suffered a glance over my shoulder through the window. Would that sniper shoot again? A pan might be deadly with a few things: scalding water, grits, and a mean backhand like Nan, but a sniper?
Not so much.
A gunshot echoed.
Brody’s shoulder jerked forward. Blood sprayed out. The .357 in his hand fell.
Nan threw her cooking tool. The tenderizer heaved through the air like a hammer, knocking the gun from the Russian’s hand. A wayward bullet slammed upward into the chandelier.
As she sprang for Brody’s gun, the Russian reached down and grabbed his weapon first. He removed the mask from his face, smiling while training the gun on Nan.
“Aleksandr,” I murmured.
“Surprise, my Black matryoshka doll.” His soulless eyes pierced Nan as she bent down to reach for Brody’s gun. “Don’t.”
She held up her hands.
“Unlike Elrick”—his chin jutted to the man Nan and Brody had double teamed—“I won’t assume you’re a sweet, fat, old babushka.” His chest heaved a chuckle. He gestured with his gun to Brody, who sat on the ground, tamping a hand over the blood. So much blood. His tanned skin paled. “Get down next to him. Dah?”
“Okay,” Nan grunted, descending to one knee, then the other.
“Jordyn, put the pan down.” Aleksandr threw zip ties onto the center of the island. “Make it quick. So, we can go.”
Mouth twisting, I held the pan tightly.
Brody dropped sideways, half his body hidden from Aleksandr because of the island cabinets between us.
“Nyet, Jordyn!” Aleksandr growled. “Throw that at me. Your punishment for disappearing intensifies beyond your imagination. You obey? What I’d already intended to do to you, well, I cut that timeframe in half.”
A wave of nausea and fear rushed through me. The pan fell from my fingers with a clank. I could hardly look at Nan and Brody when I snatched up the ties.
“Quick!”
I cut through the anxious pants to argue. “He’s bleeding out.”
Aleksandr gave me a look that read, Whose problem is that?
Quietly, I murmured, “I’m so sorry.”
Nan wouldn’t look at me then I realized where her eyes landed. A knife. That was why Brody had groaned and lay prostrate on the ground. He’d wanted to get me closer to the knife. With Aleksandr’s position on the opposite side of the kitchen, he didn’t have a visual of their actions. I took a zip tie and placed it around the cabinet’s silver knob. As I tied it, the loud zip sound ripped the air. I did it again, same knob, different tie.