Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance(186)

“Do what he says,” orders a second voice from behind me, and my grip tightens. I’m surrounded, and I hear the click of a pistol from the second assailant as well.

I ready myself. I’m not about to back down, so my muscles tense as I prepare to shoot and move quickly, praying the next thing I know isn’t a bullet in the back.

“You deaf? Gun on the ground, hands up, or I shoot!” the first man orders, and when I don’t immediately respond, I see him aim his pistol to fire his weapon.

Then there’s a crack from behind me, and I glance back just in time to see Cherry, having brought a lead pipe down on the second man’s head, now diving to grab his gun as the thug falls to the ground.

I look back to see the first man taken off-guard just long enough, and without a second thought I fire a shot into the man’s shoulder, and he staggers back, gun falling from his hands as he lets out a sharp yell.

I close the distance between us, and as his murderous eyes turn to me, he hurls a punch to my gut, but I catch it with my free hand. He blinks in surprise, and that’s the last thing he has time to do as I bring my forehead crashing down on his nose, knocking him out cold.

“Let’s go!” I shout at Cherry, and in no more than two seconds we’ve sprinted to the bike. I’m revving up the engine before roaring down the street as more cries of alarm shout out from behind us.

Cherry’s arms wrap around me tight as we ride. “You did good,” I say back to her, grin on my face.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” she warns, glancing back at the headlights behind us. One of the black sedans from the docks is deciding to chase us.

I laugh. “If these tourists want to go for a ride, I’ll play ball.”

Gunshots ring out from the sedan almost immediately, but I’ve already started weaving on my bike. It’s hard enough to shoot from a moving vehicle, much more so at a moving target.

I drive up the docks and towards the city, wondering whether they’ll have the stones to follow me into the streets proper. Either way, I don’t want the police to get involved in the chase, so I decide it’s time to end things early. Without warning, I veer off my path and come screeching to a halt just as the sedan gains on us.

It goes zooming past, to the astonishment of the men inside, and before they can react, I aim a couple of shots at their back tires. After the shots ring out, I hear the car screeching as the tires go out. They careen to the side of the road, and before they know what’s happened, I’m roaring past them and into the city streets, Cherry looking back on the scene with wide eyes as I feel her heart pounding against my back.



To be safe, I take us on a ride through the back alleys of the city again, not unlike what I did to give the police the runaround last time. With these men, though, I’m more confident they won’t dare drag this into the city proper.

“...with Agent Doyle at the helm of that, I’m sure someone’s been paid to turn a blind eye to the cops for the night,” I explain to Cherry, “but take things into citizens’ front yards, and they wouldn’t have a choice. We’ll wait for things to cool off at the Glass.”

A few minutes later, we make the roundabout and pull up at our bar. It feels like it’s been hours, but it’s not even 1:00 AM yet, and it looks like most of the club has been hanging around the bar, worried about why I haven’t at least checked in yet.

As I push the door open, Cherry at my side, I see the whole club gathered together.

Genn and Eva are playing pool in the corner, and they raise their beers to me as soon as we enter.

“Hey, Prez! Heard gunshots, glad to see you both in one piece.”

“Genn was just waiting on you to watch the table so I don’t cheat while he takes a piss.”

“Shaddup!”

Eva elbows Genn in the side as we stride in, and I hear more greetings from the club.

“Got any dirt on the feds, Prez?” Anya asks after she downs the remainder of her vodka. “With all Doyle’s goons crawling around, I’m getting kind of impatient patching people up, starting to think I was born to crack heads instead.”

“Shoulda been with us today,” I chuckle back at her, pulling away my bandana to show off the cut on my forehead where I headbutted one of the thugs. “Got a little closer to the old days than I’d like to admit.”

Now I’ve really got the bar’s attention.

“Tell us you’ve got something solid, Prez,” Vasily asks, rubbing his sore bicep after losing an arm wrestling match with Roy, one of the grizzled older members. Given how many beers there are around the table, I figure it’s their sixth or seventh match. “I want to work out these arms on a little more than letting Roy win a few times.”