Page 43 of Impenitent Claim

The Russian cage fighter mouthed something to me. I tipped my head to the side, staring at the spectre. It was strange seeing the phantasmal shape outside of the shadows.

“DOWN!”The silent word roared through the space between us.

The survival instinct that was bred into my genes screamed at me to listen. I dropped gracelessly, the tight cut of the dress not giving me enough room to move properly.

“Lonzo!” I hissed, tugging his pant leg.

My fiancé cocked his head. The confusion on his face would have been comical if the shooting hadn’t started to ring out all around the room.

Wrapping my arms around the skinny chicken legs, I pulled Alonzo down. Only once he was safe—safe being a poor word—did I look around. Through the chaos, it was clear a third party was attacking us. I glared at the mountain of a Russian, who walked through the gunfire as if it were a light summer rainfall.

How dare he come in here and start killing us—

“Gio!” I screamed, rearing up.

Where was he? I couldn’t see him. He didn’t have a gun to defend himself. Oh, dio! What if hedidhave a gun?! He would try to prove himself!

“I’ll get him,” Alonzo declared, pushing me back down.

Before I could stop the soft prince, he was off, ducking and scuttling along the floor.

I drug my fingers through my hair, pulling it from the tight restraints, gaze darting wildly about to find any sign of my little brother.

“Will you get the fuck down,” a terrible voice growled.

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back. With a scream, I struck. My nails clawed across his cheek, sinking into the flesh.

“Knock it off!” he menaced.

Grabbing me around the waist, the cage fighter hauled me against his body and then he was running. His large, solid frame shielded me from the bullets.

The warmth of cedar and spice didn’t lull me. Didn’t make me draw a deeper breath, nor clutch his shirt in my fists. I refused to admit he had that kind of power over me, even as my body proved that he did.

The pop of a rifle sounded too close.

“Let me go, you monster, let me go!” I raged. “My brother is out there.”

The Russian grunted. “He has the combined weight of the Contis and Rinaldis behind him. If they can’t protect him—”

My heel collided with his groin. The Russian lurched. I used the moment of weakness to disentangle my hands and lash out with every ounce of force I had.

It would have been impressive, if the beast didn’t shove me into the wall, pinning my hands at my side.

“Please,” I whispered. “He’s just a kid.”

“Young men grow up in moments like these,” he said harshly.

I could barely gulp enough air into my lungs to form more words. “And yet they aren’t immune to Russian bullets!”

“Russian?” the monster snapped.

“You’re attacking my people, you sick, twisted asshole! I don’t know who you are or how you did it, but I know you’re behind this attack. You and the Sokolov Bratva,” I shouted, but my voice turned to a hoarse whisper.

He shook me, making my teeth clack in my mouth. “It’s another Italian mob, you little idiot.”

I stilled.

“Yeah, that surprises you, doesn’t it?” he spat. “Other than obtaining the Sokolov’s permission to be in the city, I have no connections with them or any other East Coast organization.”

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