Page 29 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

My blood runs cold. My hands shake. I grip the gun with both hands, trying to steady my trembling fingers. Every instinct tells me to point and shoot, but fear clogs my throat and clouds my mind. What if I miss? What if I hit Piers instead? My heart pounds as I force myself to lift the gun, but Piers moves faster than I thought humanly possible. He grabs the limp body of the man he just knocked out and uses him as a shield, ducking low to grab the weapon from the unconscious Crowe. The armed man hesitates for a fraction of a second, his aim wavering- and that’s all Piers needs.

He fires.

The shot is deafening, echoing through the room like a thunderclap. The armed Crowe stumbles back, clutching his shoulder, and the gun falls from his hand with a clatter.

“Move!” Piers yells at me, his voice razor-sharp. He’s already on the move, throwing the duffle bag over his shoulder as he grabs my arm. I stagger, still frozen by the sound of the gunshot.

“Fantasia, now!” His eyes meet mine, and they’re wild, unrelenting. The world snaps back into focus, and I let him drag me out of the room, past the fallen Crowes groaning in pain.

The gravel crunches under our feet as we sprint toward the edge of the motel, rounding the corner to the back of the building. Adrenaline surges through me, dulling the sharp ache in my side as we push forward. Behind us, the shouting escalates, voices edged with fury- proof of just how thoroughly Piers held his own against them.

We dart into a narrow alley that cuts between two houses, leading to a waist-high chain-link fence. Piers vaults over it effortlessly, landing silently on the other side before turning to help me scramble over.

“Come on,” Piers calls, his tone clipped but laced with concern as his eyes catch on the gun still in my hand, his jaw tightening.

He reaches for the weapon. I hesitate for a fraction of a second, my grip faltering, before he gently takes it from me. “You focus on climbing,” he instructs, tucking the gun into his waistband.

I place a hand on the metal fence, but the sharp pull on my side makes me wince. My legs wobble beneath me, and I can’t muster the strength to pull myself up.

“Don’t tense- let me do the work,” he says, his voice steady and commanding. His grip is firm, and before I can protest, his hands shift to lift me. “Hold onto me.” I cling to his shoulders as he hoists me up. His arms steady as he carries me over. Pain ripples through my side, sharp but bearable.

He lowers me carefully to the ground, his movements controlled as if afraid to hurt me further. My feet touch down, but the impact sends a jolt of pain through my side, and I stumble. His hands remain on me, steadying me until I regain my footing.

His hands linger for a beat longer before he pulls back, his focus already shifting. “Stay close,” he says, his tone firm as he turns to lead the way.

The hard-packed dirt shifts to soft grass as we cut through the backyard of a small house. A dog barks furiously, snapping at the air, but we don’t stop. We dodge laundry lines, scattered toys, and a low-hanging tree branch before disappearing into the shadows of another yard.

Cold bites at my cheeks, and the distant roar of an engine reminds me the Crowes are still circling the motel, hunting us. My legs scream in protest, but I push on, following Piers through one last backyard and onto a quiet side street.

“There’s a bus stop a block away,” he whispers, his gaze sweeping the area, sharp and calculating. “Stick with me. We’ll make it.”

I nod, too winded to argue, and follow his lead.

In the distance, the bus’s headlights appear, cutting through the gloom. I glance back- no sign of the Crowes. We reach the stop with seconds to spare, slipping on just as the doors close behind us.

“You alright?” Piers asks once we settle into our seats.

The chair beneath me feels like a victory. My legs are trembling, half from adrenaline and half from sheer relief, but I manage a nod. “Yeah,” I say, though my voice comes out softer than I mean it to. “I’m fine.”

“Let me see your side,” he murmurs, already reaching for my shirt.

I hesitate but relent. He lifts the hem, revealing the blood seeping through the bandage. It’s not a lot, but enough to make my stomach churn.

“Some of the stitches pulled,” he says grimly.

“It’s nothing,” I snap, tugging my shirt back down. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m about to shatter.” My tone is sharp enough to cut, and for now, it silences him.

When the bus stops near the dealership, Piers is already moving, guiding me off and into a waiting cab. Minutes later, we arrive at a quiet, tucked-away lot where a sleek car is waiting. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but it’s here, and we have what we need to get away.

Chapter 15

Fantasia

It only takes a couple hours before the highway begins to wind through the Appalachian mountains and broad, forested hills rise up on either side of us. Piers warns me to drink extra water now that we’re entering a higher elevation. I reluctantly agree. The last few days have been unpleasant enough without adding elevation sickness to my plate.

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