Page 79 of Hostile Love
She’s the missing link that pulls everything in my life together.
“You good?” I ask, cuffing her wrist, needing to touch skin and meeting leather instead.
She nods and sets a gloved hand over the top of mine, squeezing it. Bare fingertips brush my knuckles, and my blood turns to liquid fire.
“We have to split up now, Crow,” she whispers. “This is your floor.”
“Remember what I said,” I remind her, hearing my pulse quicken in my ears. “Backup is on the way. I’ll find you, okay?”
“You’d better,” she replies, casting me a warning look before setting off again.
I watch her hop over the bodies on her ascent and fight the uneasiness gripping my chest.
Rolling back my shoulders, I toss the empty machine gun, steal another from a dead guy’s hands, and turn in the opposite direction, ready to stand between my family and the enemy.
23
DANIELA
I force my legs to carry me away from him, dodge corpses and stay strong like always.
This time, though, it's harder to shake off the new waves of separation anxiety that I’ve fallen victim to.
The minute he’d left the restaurant in the city, I knew something was wrong. His anxious pace alone had my gut twisting, and when the convoy went from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds, I had to completely open the throttle to keep up.
Against my better judgment, I follow his order and leave him on the landing dressed in expensive pants and a snug white dress shirt, looking lethal.
He’s eternally hot in all black combat gear. But the way he’s smartly dressed, with messy bangs teasing inky lashes and those chestnut eyes, dark and dangerous––I'm on fire.
We’ve already faced rapid gunfire and I doubt it would be the last.
It’s not that I don’t have any faith in his ability as an agent. Far from it. The guy doesn’t have a fearful bone in his divine body.
His target skills are on point. He handles a machine gun like he was born with one in his hands––fuck, just watching him shoot up the bad guys gets my temperature soaring and my blood pumping.
I guess murder and desire is an unhealthy cocktail.
But for someone like me, it's the perfect mix.
However, the people who’ve shown up to assassinate India—they won’t settle for just her.
They’re after vengeance. And that means wiping out every single living, breathing Souza, including the only man I’ve ever loved.
I don’t bother counting the flights I’ve climbed to retrain my focus. My mind is already sharp, even if my heart is with Matheus.
Reaching the sixth floor, I peer around the lobby door and watch for movement.
A male nurse rushes down the corridor with a handheld radio in front of his mouth. Speaking into it, he asks how long it would take before the police arrive.
When he uses his pass to open a set of double doors, I dart up behind him and use a vending machine as cover when he looks over his shoulder, sensing me close.
It’s like a ghost town in the ward. None of the security guards are lining the corridor, which doesn't sit well with me. If there’s one thing about the Souzas, they rely heavily on security and are protected better than royalty.
Staying low, I study the layout and head to the nurses’ station to check the penned notes on the whiteboard, searching for André’s name and room number.
Another two nurses appear from around the corner, their voices hushed and nervous. I duck under the other side of the counter and tuck my feet in, listening to their conversation.
“I spoke to the hospital security team at the front desk. They said it’s a false alarm.”
