Page 151 of Sins of a King
“The city is ours,” I repeated.
I whirled and pulled the trigger.
Dolinsky’s face registered shock, even as he sputtered, blood gurgling from his mouth. My captor dropped to his knees, and I watched the life bleed out of him. This man had kidnapped me, thinking he could mold me into his queen. He thought me weak, malleable, his.
I was no one’s.
Chapter 49
“Barrett,” Flynn called.
I looked up from the still form of Igor Dolinsky and into the face of the man who owned my heart and soul. The man I willingly killed for. The man who I had to let think…
Flynn had come toward me, but he hadn’t touched me. I was cold. So cold.
“I love you. I never stopped loving you or doing everything I possibly could to get back to you.”
“Shhh,” he said. He reached into his pant pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He called Brad and commanded him to find a discreet cleanup crew.
The persona I’d been wearing for the past six weeks crumbled in the wake of Dolinsky’s death. Adrenaline and fear had been warring inside of me, and now it all zoomed out of my body, leaving me to stand on shaky legs.
“Come on,” Flynn said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Hold on,” I said. “I have to call—”
“Later.”
“No,” I stated, tugging my hand out of his.
“Who do you have to call?” Flynn demanded.
Ignoring him, I pulled out my own cell phone and dialed Sasha who had been commanded by Dolinsky to remain outside the warehouse—hidden.
He answered immediately. “Are you safe?” he demanded.
“Yes, I’m with Flynn.” I cast a glance at my husband, wondering what he was thinking as he watched me with cool, calm eyes.
“It went off without a hitch?”
“Yes. Dolinsky never suspected a thing.”
He sighed. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. I’ll be in touch and we’ll figure out how best to proceed.” I hung up and looked at Flynn.
“Who was that?”
I paused. “Dolinsky’s right-hand man.”
“And he knows—”
“I’ll explain everything, I promise.” I turned away from Flynn to head back toward Dolinsky’s body. Flynn reached out and grabbed my injured hand.
Pain shot through my broken finger, and I let out an involuntary yell. He let me go like he’d touched fire, a look of horror crossing his face.
“Oh God,” he said.
I shook my head, bringing my injured hand to my chest, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes. “He has something of mine,” I gasped through the throbbing pain.
