Page 58 of Fight for You
Okay, what was I thinking? My mind raced. So many thoughts. I clamped down on one of them.Slow the man down. Talk. Give Jamie a chance to get to me. Or hell, give me a chance to find a weapon.
My focus turned to my peripheral as I struggled to my feet.Dang. Jamie had thrown everything I could use on the floor while we forgot the world around us as we kissed. Whatwasa weaponwas now shards of glass. Just not a shard big enough for me to use. And the shards were farther away from where I grunted, unable to stand because the hot pulse beneath my neck was on fire from pain. Through the hurt, I croaked, “Elrick?”
He locked the door leading to the garage, shook his head, advancing on me again.
Okay, so maybe the third in command died?Jordy, does that matter?While some might agree, my fear of Aleksandr paled in comparison to two others. The first got the best of me while offering me a sip of water—low-hanging fruit. And he was dead.
The second?
Elrick.
The masked Russian advanced toward me. I kicked a leg. Laughing, his paw-like hand deflected my attack. I backed around the desk, my eyes on the door leading to the garage.
He darted my way. As I ran, he pivoted toward the opposite side of the table, which gave me the direct shot I craved. I scurried forward. An amused chuckle emitted from his tight lips. Didn’t know what was so funny. Now, I had access to the door that led outside.
It hit me.
What if more Russians were outside? I just wanted to get back to Ja?—
I picked up one of those heavy, old-school staplers that I spotted half tucked beneath a pile of papers. Grip tight, I slammed it at his masked forehead. Jamie had called his rifle accurate and reliable. Well, this did the job as it bounced off the space between his dark eyes. The Russian howled.
His next move caught me off guard. The man put a hand on the table and used it as a vaulting device. I took two steps backward before he caught me by the throat. “You little?—”
A voice—hoarse, furious, and unmistakable—shouted from opposite the door. As something hard hit repeatedly at the door inan attempt to open it, the Russian, hands still wrapped around my neck, lifted me until my shoes dangled above the ground. He proceeded, choking me out, toward the entrance. “Let’s see how long you stay conscious while we leave these tartan tosspots to clean up their own mess, shall we?”
My fingernails clawed into his hands. My feet kicked but didn’t hit anything vital. Vision furrowed at the edges. Blood pulsed in the vessels behind my eyes.Help! I needed help! I couldn’t scream as he wrenched open the front door and stepped into the night.
Brody and Camdyn called out from somewhere around the opposite side of the garage, but the man moved with deliberate steps, still choking me. Invincible.
And then—“Let. Her. Go!”
The Russian never had a chance. He caught Jamie’s shoe full force on his biceps. We went down. The fall broke his choke hold. I scrambled back, gasping while Jamie jumped on my captor. They rolled on the asphalt. Parking lot motion sensors lit up the scene. Fists, knees, and rage. The Russian pulled a blade. Jamie caught his wrist and slammed it against the curb. The man didn’t release the knife. Jamie’s head pitched forward. One headbutt produced a river of blood. Jamie slammed the thug’s wrist against the curb again. I heard bones break. The knife fell. Jamie grabbed it and buried it in the man’s thigh. More blood.
My stomach flipped.
The Russian howled. Jamie gripped the side of his head and slammed it into the pavement while Camdyn and Brody came running from farther out, where the last garage stall stood open.
They helped their brother up. A gash on his cheek seemed to be the only blood that was his. But he looked like he’d fingerpainted the primary color red all over himself, then rolled in it.
My chest heaved at the sight of him and all he’d done to save me.Again. “They almost got—he almost got?—”
“I got you.” Jamie scooped me into his arms. “I’ll fight for you. I’ll die for you, JorJor. You know that.”
“Jamie,” Camdyn said, pointing a gun past us, “I’d rather you keep Jordyn alive. Go!”
Over my shoulder, another dark SUV—with more Bratva enforcers—slid past the entrance of MacKenzie Freight, where another empty SUV sat at the gate to keep it open. The Russians they’d just fought must have driven the first parked vehicle. The new SUV had Aleksandr’s name written all over it. Similar to our last night in Santa Barbara, they attacked in waves.
Could Jamie’s brothers handle everyone in that tinted SUV?
Everything was happening so fast. Carrying me in his arms, Jamie’s long limbs ate up the pathway to the opposite side of the garage. From my position, being jostled around in Jamie’s arms as he ran, I could see Camdyn take cover just inside the first garage door opening. He shot toward the Russians while Brody planted himself behind a Chevy Silverado, also exchanging gunfire.
Metal pinged. Bullets punched through the window of the Silverado.
“Keep your head down, Jordyn,” Jamie ordered.
I tucked my head into his shoulder. He set me on my own two feet at the last semi-truck stall. I yanked open the passenger door to the muscle car and rushed inside. Jamie got behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and tore out of the garage, fishtailing it around the side of the garage door to turn onto the narrow drive.
The car tore across the pavement, away from the action. Through the rearview mirror, Jamie’s eyes flashed—wild, enraged, more blue than green tonight. It gutted me to watch him leave his brothers in the ninth hour and must’ve eviscerated him completely too. As we approached the only gate to exit their family business, a round struck the rear windshield, spider-webbing the glass.
