Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(196)

Pierce lets him go, and the Russian sits up, and looks down at his own dislocated knee. His whole lower leg is turned the wrong way around. Already his knee – what’s left of it – is turning blue and swelling.

He’ll be lucky if he can ever walk properly again.

Pierce, still on the ground, whirls a kick at the side of Anton’s head. The smack echoes. Anton is thrown onto his side, unmoving.

“Shit, he did it,” Fallon says in front of me. He turns around and grins at me. “Damn, your boy’s good.”

Pierce staggers backward, hands on his hips. His torso is drenched with blood and sweat.

He looks at me, and bellows, “Penny!”

Time slows. Sounds blur. My hair is floating.

I reach forward, grab the gun from the goon in front of me. I flick the safety with my thumb, aim it up at the ceiling, and pull the trigger.

Bang!

The kick hurts, throws my arms up. I pull them down, squeeze the trigger again, and again, and again.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

I hear the screech of metal, the ping of impacts, and the high-pitched bouncing of ricocheting bullets.

Everybody drops to the ground.

I sprint toward the cage.

“Pierce!” I cry. I slap open the deadbolt, wrench open the hinged door.

Pierce grabs my hand. I feel the moisture between our skin. It’s blood.

“Come on,” he says, and he pulls me.

I’m in his wake, and I can smell his sweat. I can smell metal. I think he’s going to run away, but instead he runs straight to Fallon. He grabs the gun from my hand, and points it at him, and before I know what’s happening, he’s got his knee up by his chest.

“No!” Fallon yells, but it’s too late. Pierce brings his leg down hard on Fallon’s thigh. I see the leg bend grotesquely before I hear the flesh-dulled snap of his femur.

Fallon mewls out in agony, grips onto his leg with wide, terrified eyes.

“Fucking told you I’d break it,” Pierce snarls. He shoots toward the Russians on the other side. They hit the deck again. He rubs the grip of the gun hastily on my shirt, then tosses it, and grabs my hand again.

We run toward the large shutter-doors, but on the way Pierce pulls me to the side.

“Look away,” he says, and I do, and moments later I hear the sound of shattering glass.

Fire alarms scream to life.

There’s screeching grinding, metal on metal. The whole building rumbles. Heavy steel doors begin to lower from the roof. I look at them, confused.

“Come on,” Pierce huffs, and he tugs me forward again. The doors closing from the ceiling seem like blast-doors. They’re obviously designed not just to keep everything out, but to keep everything in.

It clicks in my head. This is a chemical plant! These are security measures to prevent outside contamination. It’s containment.

“Faster!” he roars, tugging me harder. I run as fast as my feet will take me, but we’re still so far away from the big doors.

“Come on, Pen!” he yells, and I try, but I’m at the edge, and if I attempt to go faster I might just fall.

The blast doors are shutting down fast, and I will myself, force myself to run faster. I was never a quick runner, I was never good at sports, but I push, I push, fuck if I push.

“Yes!” I cry as I clear the doors ducking. Just milliseconds later, and we’d have been crushed at the hip. They slam shut hard, shaking the ground beneath my feet. The whole plant must be in lockdown. Fallon, the Russian mobsters, they’re stuck inside.

I turn to Pierce, look up at him, and that’s when I see his face is completely red. The cut on his head has opened even wider, and it’s just pouring a torrent of blood out.

“Oh no,” I groan, and I want to tell him, but he looks away, tugs me again, and we’re running again, this time toward the collection of parked cars. They’re all expensive, all completely conspicuous.

Mobsters.

“Which one?” I say, breathless.

“They wrecked my car,” Pierce growls. “Take the best one.”





Chapter Thirty Six





Mercedes… BMW… Jaguar… Maserati… it’s a tough choice.

“Come on!” Penny screams. “Who fucking cares which car we take?”

In the distance, red lights flash. No doubt they are fire engines.

“The Jag!” I say, and run to the door. I look inside. “Fuck, no keys.”

“Here!” Penny yells. “This one has keys.” She’s standing by the BMW, and I run to her, climb in. She gets in with me. I start the car, tear out onto the road.

We pass fire trucks that wail past us. They are followed by ambulances and… police cars.

“Why are the police going?” she asks.

“That was an old fight site. They must have been watching it. Fire alarms go off, they think a fight is going down and someone started a fire by accident.”