Page 60 of Nikolai
Shitheads lived for moments like these.Where they could inflict pain and suffering with no consequences.
The noise level outside was increasing, shouts and loud engine noises, but fuckhead wasn’t even noticing.He aimed down the barrel and Nick said his goodbyes to life and…
The fucker’s head exploded while big chunks were blown out of his chest.
He fell where he stood, deader than dirt.
Parker still hada death grip on her gun.Pistol.Whatever it was called.She had to consciously relax her fingers, one by one.
She’d just shot a man.Twice.Something she’d have said was impossible, but there he was, bleeding in the dust, unmoving.And the most astonishing thing of all was that she wasn’t sorry.Not one bit.
Until the day she died, she’d never forget the expression on his face, evil and gloating.About to shoot the finest man she’d ever known.
She was hidden beneath Nick, who’d run faster than she’d ever seen anyone move to throw himself over her, to shield her, but she had a narrow view encompassing the gangster slowly walking toward Nick, clearly enjoying every second of planning the death of someone defenseless.Already wounded and unarmed.The guy didn’t know she was there, and Nick was prepared to sacrifice his life to make sure the man didn’t know she was there.
She was hidden.But…she had a gun.Nick wasnotgoing to be killed by a cruel baby gangster in an Armani suit and with a trendy haircut.Not if she could help it.
He was so close, she couldn’t miss.She was hidden in shadows and partially shielded by the tarp.He lifted the rifle to his shoulders, readying himself to kill Nick.
Over her dead body.
Fast, because if she didn’t move fast, they were lost, she lifted the pistol, which was black and wasn’t reflecting light.She could tell the gunman didn’t see it.He was fully focused on Nick.
She flipped the safety—red is dead—lined the sights up with his chest, just like Nick had taught her, and pulled the trigger twice.And cheered to herself when she saw two big holes open up in his chest.
And then—his head exploded!She hadn’t done that.What?—?
“Parker!”a voice shouted.An American voice, deep and commanding like Nick’s.“Parker Donovan!I’m Dylan Gardner, Nick’s friend.Don’t shoot me.”
She hadn’t even noticed someone peeking out from the big crack, carrying a gun.
Nick’s friend!With a sob she crawled out from under Nick, as a tall, broad-shouldered man lowered himself from the ceiling with one hand, holding an assault rifle in the other.He dropped lightly to the floor.Parker ran to him, crying, and grabbed his arm.
“He’s hurt!Oh God, Nick’s been shot!”
He held her by the shoulders, looking her up and down.She was covered in blood.“Are you hurt?Have you been shot too?”
“No!”She gave a huge sob.“It’s Nick’s blood.We have to get him to a hospital immediately!”
Dylan rushed past her to Nick, hunkered down beside him.He ripped Nick’s shirt and carefully examined the wound in his back, then lifted him so he could see Nick’s chest.
His face was drawn and sober.He looked over his shoulder at her and she could read his expression as if he said the words aloud.It’s bad.
“Didn’t punch through,” he said, lifting away a backpack she hadn’t noticed.And bless him, the backpack had medical supplies.He pulled out things she didn’t recognize and placed them on the tarp.“Hey big guy.”He slapped Nick’s face lightly.“Open up those big baby blues.This is going to hurt.”
Nick looked barely conscious, but he nodded.“Dylan,” he murmured.
“That’s right.”Dylan pulled out what looked like pads and pressed two over the bullet wound on the back.And pressed down hard.Nick closed his eyes and bit his teeth.The pads filled with blood immediately and Dylan pressed two more.It took six pads before the bleeding stopped.Dylan took a long strip of gauze and wrapped it tightly around Nick’s abdomen.He then tapped his ear and said, “Come down.”
There was a crack, a big chunk of the concrete fell to the floor and two men rappelled down.They were carrying something that unfolded into a litter, saw Dylan, and hustled over.One looked over at her, covered in dust and blood.
“Ma’am?”
She waved her hand at Nick.“I’m not wounded, he is.See to him.”
They both turned back to Nick.They were tying Nick to the litter with complicated knots.Parker hovered, crying, holding on to Nick’s hand.His eyes were half open but unfocussed.She was terrified he was slipping away.
“Ma’am?”the same man said.
