Page 6 of Death By Chocolate

“Damn it,” I curse, watching him charge four and five in a wild bear hug, driving into their mid-section like a human football tackle sled. Both men slam into the waist-high counter, their backs cave in an unnatural bone-breaking arch, witnessed more than heard.

Then there are two. In my head, I do a mental countdown to transport. Ninety seconds and counting.

“Dani, get out of here.” The client, the one I’m contracted to protect, has turned his sights on the two men, making Swiss cheese of anyone between them and the target.

Xeno almost reaches me when I see movement from the corner of my eye. A spray of bullets tears through the air. Drywall punctures. Stone pillars crack. Posters mounted on cheap aluminum stands shred. I lunge, propelling my body through the air. Crashing is the only way to describe the impact of my curves hitting Xeno, his arms curling possessively around my waist, me shoving his body down. I feel a bullet strike. Jerking from the blast, the burn robs me of oxygen.

From behind me, a roar—that’s only to describe the bombastic quality—comes from Xeno. “No!”

As I crumple to the ground, my eyes fix on the sight of blood spreading like spilled juice across my blouse. It’s been years since I’ve seen red on my brown canvas. The AI interface tailored into my uniform starts a tangible buzz, communicating my statue to House. In response, the fibers tighten on my muscles,shrink-wrapping my limbs and acting as a tourniquet to staunch the bleeding.

"Dani!” Xeno’s voice cut through the haze.

The sting of disorientation and fucked up nostalgia evaporates in an instant. Xeno. I refocus on my pain, the great motivator. My weapon is still in hand. Sighting down the barrel, I squeeze off two shots. And then there were none.

Or not.

More men pour through the arrival doors.

Fuck. Who is the mastermind who’d outmaneuvered me? It wasn’t these men. There was no satisfaction in their eyes at having cornered their prey and his bodyguard.

“Dani. I got you.” With Xeno’s help, I regain my feet.

I teeter on the edge of failure, yet he stands at my side, holding me up.

Me, who’s underestimated Xeno Voss’s threat level on both fronts. I would’ve fucked him…eventually. If only out of curiosity to have a man like him underneath me.

Though I remain on my feet, every breath stabs deeper than a serrated blade. Six men run in our direction. My gut twists when I see the face of the man leading the assault.

It couldn’t be.

Omar.

For a split second, I freeze in disbelief, locking my limbs in place. I hear his older brother’s cold voice taunting me in my memories, reminding me of the price I’ll pay if I ever attempt to leave him. The price of my freedom was steep. Because of me, Xeno will pay a bill he doesn’t owe with his life.

Omar spots me. A diabolical grin accompanies the glee in his eyes. I’m going to die with a fuckable stranger, a brave fuckable stranger who dared me to deny the attraction between us at my side.

Xeno confronts my enemy. “I don’t know you, fucker, but X marks the knot. When I’m done, you’ll choke on your balls.”

Glass explodes. Everyone ducks, including us, Omar, and his goons. My Mercedes-Benz SUV barrels toward our location under House’s AI command interface.

“What the hell?” Xeno bellows. “This fucked up city.”

The sound of sirens and orders cuts through the chaos. Law enforcement swarms in from our left, an ant army soon to overrun the terminal. The PA system crackles, and a woman’s voice starts but stops abruptly. Static interference, deafening to the point of pain, blares through every mounted speaker.

Good.

House is disrupting communications, scrubbing security footage and passenger manifests. We have to escape. I squeeze Xeno’s waist. “Get in,” I push out.

He gestures towards the Obsidian Black Maybach GLS 600 curbing. “This you?”

I nod, the slight movement kicking off a wave of dizziness. “Ou…our ride home.”

Xeno springs into action. He presses his free hand against the chest wound above my suit jacket, trying to stem the bleeding as my eyes dart around, calculating our next move. Blood loss dulls my vision. I’m too weak to confirm what my eyes can’t deny. I had left my family behind—of birth and marriage —that life wasn’t supposed to find me here. Not now. Not when I’ve survived the hell they condemned me to.

Xeno’s face has paled, but his eyes, those deep brown eyes that will usher me into the next life, watches, a silent prayer vigil that I’m silently thankful for. I’ve done my job, and I won’t die alone. HOUSE would deliver him safely to The Governor. My breath comes in short bursts, my heart rate slows.

“Hey,” Xeno presses my chest wound harder, “wake the fuck up.”

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