Page 109 of Wicked Sinner
"What do you want from me?" Bridget snaps. “You’ve already told me your plan. Leave me alone.”
“Maybe I enjoy your company.” Matvey’s voice is amused.
"You're insane if you think your stupid plan is going to work. Konstantin is going to eat you alive if you get out of this." Bridget sounds derisive, like she wants to spit in his face, and I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth.That’s my girl.As much as I worry her attitude might have gotten her hurt at some point,it wouldn’t be Bridget if she weren’t mouthing off to a man who holds her life in his hands.
"Am I? Let me tell you something about men like your husband, little girl. They are predictable. They think with their emotions instead of their heads. Caesar will come here, alone and angry, and he will make mistakes. Fatal ones."
I reach the top of the stairs and move toward the room. Through the crack in the door, I can see Bridget tied to a chair in the center of the room. She looks unharmed—I can’t see any marks on her face. Slakov is standing in front of her, and two armed men flank the door.
Just as I'm about to make my move, gunfire erupts from the main floor. Tristan and his men, right on schedule.
"What the hell—" one of Slakov's guards starts toward the stairs.
That's my opening. I kick in the door and put two rounds in the guard's chest before he can turn around. The second guard spins toward me, bringing up his rifle, but I'm already moving. I dive behind a metal desk as automatic fire chews up the wall where I'd been standing.
"Caesar!" Bridget's voice cries out, filled with relief and fear mixed together.
"Stay down!" I call back, blind-firing around the edge of the desk to keep the remaining guard pinned down.
"I should have known you wouldn't come alone," Slakov shouts over the gunfire. "No matter. You will still die here tonight."
I hear the distinctive sound of a magazine being ejected and slammed back into place. The guard is reloading. I spring up from behind the desk and put three rounds in his chest. He drops like a stone.
Slakov has his own gun out now, a silver pistol that looks expensive. He's got it pressed against Bridget's temple.
"Drop your weapon," he orders. "Now, or I paint the wall with her brains."
I keep my gun trained on him, looking for any opening. "Let her go, Slakov. Your fight is with me."
“My fight is with the entire hierarchy of Miami,” Slakov spits. “And I will find a place in it, even if I have to make peace with Abramov before I find a way to cut him down eventually. You sit there on your high horse, while I was left with nothing. You chose to leave, but I was forced to. I will have what I am owed, and I will start with what you think is yours!”
“You’re a piece of shit like your father was,” I growl. “And I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”
"Shut up!" He presses the gun harder against Bridget's head, making her wince. "You don't get to judge me."
"You're right," I hiss, taking a step closer. "I don't get to judge you. I just get to kill you."
The sound of footsteps on the stairs distracts him for just a moment. His eyes flick toward the door, and that's all the opening I need.
I dive to the left as his shot goes wide. My own bullet catches him in the shoulder, spinning him around and sending his gun clattering across the floor. He stumbles but doesn't go down, reaching for a knife on his belt.
I'm on him before he can draw it. My fist connects with his jaw, snapping his head back. He stumbles into the wall, blood streaming from his mouth.
"You should have stayed gone." I grab him by the throat and slam him against the concrete wall. "Stayed in whatever hole you ran to like the fucking rat you are. You’d have died less painfully then, when it came time for you."
Slakov's eyes go wide with rage. He tries to knee me in the groin, but I twist away and drive my elbow into his ribs. I hear bones crack. Behind me, I hear Bridget’s gasp.
"Please," he gasps, his eyes widening as the gravity of his situation begins to dawn on him. "I can pay you. Whatever you want."
"There's nothing you have that I want." I pull out my knife, the blade gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light. "Except maybe watching you die."
"Caesar." I hear Bridget’s voice, soft and urgent, pleading. "Just finish it and get me out of here. Please."
I look over at her, cuffed to that chair, staring at me as if she knew I would come for her. As if she trusts I’ll get her free. My wife. The mother of my child. And for the first time in my life, I understand what it really means to love someone more than your own life.
Slakov tries to use my distraction to grab for his fallen gun. I catch his wrist and twist until something snaps. He screams.
"You thought you could get the better of me," I growl, pressing the knife against his throat. "Of everyone who runs Miami. You hurt my wife."
