She swerved left around a ninety-degree turn to another line of cars. Yvgeny got a grip on the dash. Now only his legs were outside. She sped up and made another hard left. Princess didn’t think her driving skills were up to this.
All the time, between watching him and looking where she was going, her right hand flapped for the gun and she didn’t find it.
“Ooh.” Yvgeny made a theatrical noise as he got himself all the way into the car. In the corner of her eye, she saw the gun. It was all the way down in the passenger footwell.
“Ah, little sugar mouse.” He crawled over to be next to her. He took hold of her throat and her eyes bulged in panic. Then his hand slid down her neck to her chest.
“I feel your little sugar mousey heart pound behind your sweet sugar tits.”
He squeezed her breast, then slid his hand down, slipping it between her legs. Princess pressed as hard into the seat as she could to try and wriggle away from his spidery, probing fingers. She shoved down on the gas pedal and pushed it all the way down.
When the car hit the wall, everything seemed to happen in slo-mo, but not like a movie. First, the nose of the car pitched down hard. The seatbelt cut into her and Yvgeny sailed backwards like an astronaut in space toward the windshield as it went white and bent inward.
Her face and her whole body were swamped in white, and a powerful blast of silky fabric pinned her head, her shoulders, and her body deep into the seat.
Another fast-billowing cloud of fabric blew Yvgeny back, over the seatback, into the rear of the car. As the car continued to tip forwards, Princess realized that if she survived, she would be completely trapped in her seat. And if Yvgeny survived, he wouldn’t.
The insides of her chest and stomach leaped forward into the airbag as the car began to bounce back away from the wall and the rear angled back to the ground. Amid the clatter as her hearing started to return, she heard the gun rattle around uselessly in the footwell.
Her hips, her spine, and her shoulders jarred as the back of the car hit the concrete ground. The vehicle squealed and scraped, then it lurched as it bounced back in the air and Princess tried to brace herself for it to land again. There was almost nothing she could do and the last jolt was almost as bad as the one before.
The car skidded backwards and crunched into something. Another vehicle, obviously, as the manic whoop of an alarm started from behind. When everything stopped moving and Princess was fixed to the seat, she couldn’t tell whether she was hurt or injured or not, and she couldn’t move to look.
She tried to listen through the noise of the dumb alarm screaming, strained to hear where Yvgeny was. If he was breathing. Or moving. She was able to move her head under the pressure of the airbag, and her arms.
With her hand, she hunted for the clasp to undo her seatbelt. A hand grabbed hers. “That was bold, little sugar mouse.” The hand moved up her arm. “Bold and brave.” His chuckle terrified her. “Completely stupid, but very brave.”
There was a bang and the back window exploded. Yvgeny’s hand was gone.
Footsteps, running toward the car. The driver’s door sprang open.
“Princess!” she heard Pierce shout. “Are you okay?” The airbag made a shushing noise and deflated. Pierce had a knife in his hand and a gun in his belt at the front of his pants. Her whole body surged at him.
The seatbelt held her back and she felt like she was bruised all along the line of it. His smile was enough to melt her. He reached across and unsnapped the belt, not taking his eyes off hers.
“Yvgeny,” she panted. Her windpipe was sore and it was hard to speak. “He’s in the back.”
Pierce closed his eyes as he shook his head. “I saw him behind you and I fired at him at him.”
She gasped. “Is he…?”
“Yup. He’s gone.” He was indicating the back of the car. She didn’t want to look. Then she saw what he meant. The far door was open.
She sighed when she saw the weariness in his face. He slipped his hand under her and lifted her out. She kept her arm on his shoulder as he turned and put her on the concrete.
“Do you think you can walk?” His voice was quiet and strong. She breathed in deeply, looking into his eyes. “Yes,” she said, “I can.”
He started to lead her away toward the elevator. She stopped. “Wait up.” And she dove back into the car. She had to clamber in over the layers of crumbs of broken glass, but she fished out the gun in its holster and brushed it off as she went back to hand it to him.
“What happened?” she asked him as they mounted the steps to the elevator.
The doors slid open and he said, “I’ll tell you on the way.” But he didn’t. He kissed her. All the way up.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, with his arm still around Princess, Agostini asked Callaghan about Dino.
“I just got off the phone with the hospital. He’s critical. He caught two bullets—one in the shoulder, and one may have ruptured his stomach. They’re operating now. They say they should know much more within an hour or so.”
Agostini said, “We should go.”
“The surgeon asked that we don’t. They’ll keep him unconscious for twelve hours at least, maybe twenty-four. Your man promised that he’d let me know about Dino’s progress.”
“He must have stopped those two when he got out of the elevator,” Calhoun said, shaking his head.
“Must have. The shot they got at Mikey was right then, at the beginning,” said Agostini. “After that, all those goons hit was plants and furniture.”
“Man just kept on walking.” Calhoun’s voice was low. “Walked right at them, two guns blazing.”
“Is Mikey all right?” Agostini asked.
“Sure.” Callaghan chuckled. “The cops got there, this patrolman said, ‘Man, you’re bleeding.’ Mikey said, ‘No shit! And where were you?’ Then he made the guy put his finger on the bandage while Mikey tied himself up.”
Agostini smiled. “He didn’t want to go to hospital?”
“The cop asked him that. He said, ‘If you like hospitals, you go.’ ”
Princess said, “That sounds like a real-deal, full-on gunfight.”
Agostini said, “It wasn’t any more hardcore than what you went through.”
She told him, “I’m going to the dungeon to freshen up. See how much of this glass I can pick out.”
Watching her walk away, apart from the sight of her fantastic ass in that thin dress, Agostini longed not to let her go. To keep her at his side. To hold onto her.
“Princess was in the car down in the garage,” he told Calhoun and Callaghan. “Yvgeny shot a hole in the window and started to climb in.” Their eyes widened. “She threw it into reverse, glass everywhere, mind, and he hung on. She slung that thing around the garage trying to shake him. He climbed in, so she slammed the car full-speed into a wall.”
“Jeez,” Callaghan whispered.
Calhoun said, “She’s got balls on her, boss. There’s no mistaking that.”
Princess put her face up into the cascading shower. All at once, she felt the aches and pains in her neck, shoulders and arms, each like a tiny replay of the moment the car hit the wall. Like it was all just happening. Maybe her body had blocked them as some kind of a defense, but now she felt jabs, cramps and forming bruises.
She’d picked as much of the little chips of glass out as she could. Only a few had even broken her skin, mostly on the backs of her thighs. She cleansed the grazes and pinpricks, found some rubbing alcohol in the bathroom cabinet, and put Band-Aids over three of the bigger scrapes.
The others were pretty tiny. If they still bled after she’d showered, she’d have to bandage them, too, but she figured they’d heal up in time.
She thought about Dino. He didn’t look the heroic type. Since she first met him, though, she’d liked him, and she really hoped that he would be all right.
But Pierce, he had chased into the garage after her and he had rescued her. There was no other way to look at
it. If he hadn’t got there, right then, at that moment, and fired at Yvgeny… Even under the hot shower, she shivered.
Yet, there he had been. Ran in to save her. Then when he got to the car, he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t spend an instant looking for Yvgeny. He could have been waiting anywhere in that garage, with a gun.
Pierce came to get her out of the car. Walking to the elevator, he must have been thinking that Yvgeny could be anywhere, must have been looking out for him. But he showed no sign of it. He hadn’t appeared to have anything on his mind other than her welfare.
The picture she had in the back of her mind loomed larger. The image of his huge cock, straining his pants. The smoky taste of him. The feel of his hard flesh against the roof of her mouth, pushing the back of her tongue.
Her fingers brushed the water away from her mound. Flicked her clit out of her hood. Pushed up just a little as she remembered the scrape of his voice. There was a scrape at the window. Her fingers pressed her lips apart.
There definitely was a scratch at the window. Must be a bird, she thought. It tapped. Princess grabbed a towel and stepped over to the frosted glass. There was a shape, a shadow on the outside, at the bottom corner.
She couldn’t be sure it was a bird, but what else could it be? She watched it as she toweled herself. It tapped again. Dull. Not sharp like the beak of a bird.
From outside, she heard him. “Little mouse, are you there?”
She staggered back. The dark shape rose and stepped in front of the window. She knew him, just by his shadow. Princess was paralyzed. Rooted to the spot. For that instant, she couldn’t move or make a sound.
“That is you, my little sugar mouse. It is, isn’t it?”
She saw him raise a gun, a machine pistol with a long magazine. All she could do was to let out that squealing yell. Then she broke free of the spell. With a lurch, Princess flung herself at the doorway and collided with Calhoun, bursting in. He went straight to the window and held a gun pressed against it with both hands.
He fired once. As the gun recoiled away, Princess saw the bullet lodged in the glass. Calhoun pushed the gun right against the bullet and fired again. The shadow outside was gone.
The tiny hole let in an icy blast of air. She ran from the bathroom, out of her suite—with only the damp, too-small towel—and scurried, shaking, into Pierce, coming down the corridor. Leaned against his chest. When Pierce put an arm around her, she realized how much she was trembling.
He called over her head, “Where is he, Calhoun?”
“I don’t know, boss.”
“Callaghan, check the study at the back. Calhoun, look out in the dungeon lounge.” He held her, enveloped her under his arm as he gently took her past the kitchen to the sunken seating area. He looked into her eyes and stroked her face before he peeled away to the loggia.
Princess couldn’t bear to wait behind and she followed him. He looked in the far corner, then crouched to peer along the balustrade. He called out, “Anybody see anything?”
The two Irish voices sounded distant and muffled saying, “No, boss.” Princess stood behind him, clasped the towel to her, chilly and wet, shaking as she watched him hunt. He turned back to her and the predatory look in his eye inflamed her.
Over his shoulder, she saw Yvgeny on the glass balcony, rising at the window, gun barrel against the glass, holding it sideways with the long magazine sticking out.
Pierce turned and put his pistol against the glass in the same place as Yvgeny’s and fired. Twice. The bullets both stayed in the glass less than half an inch apart. With a slow grin, Yvgeny slid his barrel to position it over one of the bullets.
Pierce got to the other and fired. Twice. Yvgeny’s shoulder jolted back. He still had the gun. Pierce fired again and Yvgeny lurched back to the glass balustrade. Pierce fired once more. Yvgeny toppled over the edge.
As he fell, two huge pairs of golden brown wings and the steely bright eyes of two big hawks followed him down. Pierce turned back to Princess, put his arms around her, and held her.
She heard Calhoun and Callaghan’s footsteps on the carpet behind her. Pierce’s hand left her back and made a movement. Calhoun said quietly, “Are you sure, boss?” Pierce’s hand fluttered again.
Callaghan coughed and said, “We’ll go and get some things in for dinner, boss.”
Calhoun cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’ll check on Mikey on the way.”
With her face against his chest, Princess held on tight. Her wet hair dripping on his fine shirt. His body was warm, hard and strong. She felt safe with him.
Princess stayed buried in Pierce’s chest as she heard the elevator doors swish open, then shut. They were alone, she realized.
“I left the shower running,” she said into the slopes of his firm pecs.
Pierce pulled her closer. “It doesn’t matter.” The rumble of his voice stirred her.
“But I want to finish my shower.” Softly, she bit him through his shirt. “Come and help me.” She felt his flesh begin to rise behind his pants.
She looked into his eyes. They were hot with lust. She purred, despite the tremble in her voice, “This one and only time, of course.”
Agostini watched Princess turn, followed the line of her tantalizing thighs, her beautifully turned calves, her bare feet. Naked apart from the tiny towel she still clasped together, the little rivulets of water running down the silky “V” of her back. As she hurried for the corridor to the dungeon, he grabbed her.
He whirled her back to him, thrilled by the startled look in her eyes as he pulled her back against his shirt.
He couldn’t remember being this excited since he was a schoolkid, going home on his birthday and knowing for certain that there was going to be a bike there waiting for him. Knowing it, but not having seen it. Having it, but not having it yet.
Her voice fluttered in her chest. The towel was all there was between him and her gorgeous, soft breasts. She said, “He really did make me afraid.” As she shivered, he stiffened. The tremble of her body against him, soft and wet, made him swell with lust.
This incredible woman had fought so hard, and with such dogged determination. No woman he had ever known was anything like her. Sensational in her light, casual dresses with the confidence that her womanly body displayed, and yet somehow tiny as she shivered against him.
A waft of her electrifying scent sent his pulse racing. Then she whispered, “You make me afraid, too, Pierce.” And she clung tighter to him. “But I like it.”
She looked up, her dewy eyes sparkling. “I like it a lot.” And she bit her lip.
He yanked the towel. Her eyes flashed. Held her with his hand on her throat. Her lips parted. He kissed her. Long, deep, hard, and selfish. He took her by her mouth. His tongue invaded her. Greedily, he pulled her body against him.
His hands took advantage of her full breasts, pulling, kneading, and squeezing them to his heart’s content. Only every touch he took, every shudder she gave, made his cock fill and harden, drove his passion harder.
When she moaned as he roughly felt his way down her stomach, he lifted his chin to look down at her. Her eyes were wide. He was going to fuck her. He would have her spread and stretched and filled until she shouted, moaned, and cried, soaking, helpless and used in every possible way.
His voice was low, firm. “I’m going to take everything you have.” Her eyes widened even more as she made a slow, tiny nod. “I’m going to have every part of you.” The soft fuzz of her mound pushed against his thigh and he gripped her luscious ass.
Perfectly Damaged: Luka : A bad boy mafia romance Page 40
