Page 124 of Between Us

“He can take care of himself,” Alek said harshly, and, looking into his eyes, she could see the fear he was trying to hide for their benefit. “We need to get out of here. He’ll never forgive me if anything happens to you.”

She swallowed thickly past the lump firmly lodged into her throat.

“Please,” he urged. “We don’t have time.”

Body trembling and desperate tears blurring her vision, Alessandra finally moved, gripping the window frame tightly as she hoisted herself up. She landed on the soft grass, her sneakers squeaking on the fresh dew brought forward by the dropping temperatures. Alek was right behind her, throwing a quick glance over the brick fence separating them from the chaos happening up front. Male voices rang out, loud and angry. A shrill sound like glass breaking echoed into the dead of night.

“Keep to the side of the house,” Alek said quietly, moving to walk in front of them, gun pointed forward. “Let's go.”

Loud thunder rumbled from the gloomy sky, and an oppressive shift in the air indicated the storm was getting closer. They rushed past the patio table and the drained swimming pool.

“Who lives over there?” Alek asked when they reached the far side of the property’s fence.

“I-I don't know,” Alessandra stammered, realizing she had no idea who their neighbors were. They lived far enough that she never saw them, and in truth, she'd never really cared.

He grabbed the wide edge and lifted himself up to peer on the other side. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he dropped to his feet, got down on one knee and intertwined his fingers, palms up. “Come on. Step on my hands.”

The harshness of his voice set Alessandra into motion immediately. Stepping onto the ledge he'd made with his hands, she grabbed the top of the fence and pulled herself up as best as she could. With a final push from Alek, she swung one leg over the edge to straddle it.

Her gaze drifted back to the house.

Roman was in there, facing danger, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She felt so helpless and small in a world that seemed hell-bent on swallowing her up in its sinister obscurity. And in that brief moment suspended in time, Alessandra hated the life forced upon her since birth. She hated feeling scared for herself and for the people she loved. But most of all, she resented not having any control over her existence: past, present and future.

Tearing her eyes away with difficulty, she focused on not planting on her face in the neighbors' yard.

45

The night was going to shit. If the worsening weather wasn’t indicative enough of that, the five Armenian assholes lying dead outside certainly were.

“What the fuck happened?” Roman seethed, his eyes flaying Matteo alive. The prick had materialized out of nowhere in the nick of time. Another couple of minutes and they would have been completely outgunned in their own fucking territory.

“Got tipped off by an associate that one of the Clan's cars was heading your way. I called, but you didn’t answer.” Matteo tucked his gun into its holster and frowned down at one of the figures lying dead in the drive. “It looks like someone betrayed us.”

“No shit.” Roman put away his .45 and patted his pockets for his phone but came up empty. He glared in the direction of the living room through the open door, trying to remember if he’d left it there. “I don’t know where my fucking phone is.”

“Well, we got here in time. They left the car down the street; a black sedan with tinted windows.”

Roman moved his gaze behind Matteo at the four Outfit soldiers lingering near the front gates, guns still drawn. “Where’s the rest of your men?”

“Lying low, waiting for orders.”

“Call them off. We need to regroup.” He glanced around, assessing the damage. The Armenians had known exactly when and where to strike. Roman had been inside the house with Andrei and Vladik while all of their ammunition and guns were in their cars parked in the driveway. Pavel hadn't been so lucky, his brains splattered across the front of the house where they'd cornered him. If Matteo hadn’t shown up when he had, Roman didn't know if he'd still be standing there, staring at five other bodies that weren't his men.

An ominous feeling of unease whispered down his nape, demanding his attention. Roman pushed it down, needing to focus on the disaster in front of him. He ran a rough hand across his unshaved jaw and tried to think of what to do next. He needed to call his father, and for that he needed his phone.

The disquiet he refused to acknowledge came back with more urgency, making him restless. He had half a mind to go inside and look for his phone when a thought suddenly hit him, and the enormity of it knocked the wind out of his lungs.

“Fuck,” he spat, turning around and rushing up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Alessa!”

He'd been so busy, so distracted, he’d forgotten that she was still inside the house when they attacked. Panic flooded his veins hot like lava as he stormed down the hall, heading for the master bedroom. Heavy footstepsechoed behind him as someone followed.

“Was my sister in here the whole time?” The anger in Matteo’s voice was impossible to miss.

Roman ignored him, his heart beating a furious rhythm. “Alessa!” he called, pushing open the door so hard it slammed into the wall. “Tatyana!”

Silence greeted him. He walked into the bathroom then the closet just to make sure they weren’t hiding somewhere. When he turned to leave the room, Matteo was there blocking his way.

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