Chapter 14 DON'T MISS
Chapter 14 DON'T MISS
MIA
“What am I supposed to do here?” I ask, already feeling frustrated.
Why was I dragged along if I was just going to get locked out here? I should have at least had the comfort of the bed.
“You can pretend you are furniture. Since that’s technically what you are,” she scoffs before walking away.
“Don’t get any funny ideas here; if you try to escape, you will be shot.”
I glare at her back and roll my eyes in annoyance. The space is defined by a long, sleek bar counter finished in dark marble with subtle gold veining softly illuminated from beneath, creating a rich glow.
Tall bar stools line the counter, giving it a clean, upscale feel. Behind the bar, neatly arranged shelves display bottles of liquor, backlit with warm amber lighting that adds depth and elegance.
I would order a drink or ten, but I was stripped of everything, including my credit card, and my captors do not care enough to make sure I’m comfortable while I wait.
I’ll just have to fend for myself then.
I slid into a stool next to a bald man who was having a chat with some of his other buddies and banged my hand on the counter, drawing their attention.
Their heads turn, and I immediately raise a hand to cover my slightly open mouth. “I’m so sorry, I saw a fly,” I smile innocently.
They all turn back around, and in less than a few seconds, one of his buddies approaches me.
Bingo. All men are dogs; all you gotta do is throw them a bone.
“Hey, beautiful,” he slurs. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I blush, “If you insist.”
He doesn’t look Russian, and he doesn’t have an accent either.
“A rose for the lady,” he says to the guy at the bar.
“Make that a Martini, dry.”
I turn back to him and grin.
I feel someone staring at me, and I move my eyes around, curious. A man is sitting at the other end of the bar, staring intensely at me, but not in a way that is perverted, but like he recognized me.
“What’s your name?” the man in front of me asks, and I blink back at him.
“Oh. It’s Natalie.”
His voice fades out as I turn my eyes back to the man who was staring at me, but he’s not there anymore.
“Here you go,” my drink arrives, and I offer the bartender a small smile.
“It doesn’t seem like you’re from around,” the man says.
I don’t answer, my eyes are busy searching for the man who was staring at me earlier. Something honestly doesn’t feel right about him. And if he did recognize me, that’s not a good thing at all.
“Natalie?” he calls, and I turn my attention back to him. That’s when I feel it, the cold, unmistakable pressure digging into my back through the fabric. My breath catches, and every muscle in my body tightens instinctively. A feeling runs down my body, but it’s not what I expect; it’s not fear, it’s excitement.
The man in front of me steps back, and I scoff. We haven’t drawn a lot of attention yet, but we probably will in a few minutes.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“The nerve to not even remember me,” he says in a low growl.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re pretty forgettable,” I say.
My head slammed down to the counter in a few seconds, and my untouched martini spilled a little. Now we’ve called for attention.
“Hey, hey! Relax, okay, no need to get all emotional,” I reply.
“You killed my wife!” he yells bitterly.
“I don’t know who your wife is, but I’m pretty sure that if I did kill her, she was definitely a bitch.”
The gun strikes my head, and a sharp, brutal impact explodes through my skull. Pain! My body jerks, vision blurs for a few seconds as warm liquid spills down from the side of my face. Pain barely has time to settle before instinct takes over.
I move on reflex – he doesn’t see me coming and probably doesn’t expect me to be so fast. My body twists sharply to the side, breaking the angle of his grip. The shift is enough; his grip loosens for half a second, and I use it to surge upward with all that I’ve got.
My hand clamps around the gun, and I ram my elbow into his ribs as I pull the gun from him, the force knocking him off balance.
By the time he recovers, I have the gun pointed at him, adrenaline pulsating through my body, and I am angry as fuck.
The room is alert; everyone has their eyes on us, but no one interferes. This doesn’t seem to be the first time they’ve seen a bar fight.
“You little bitch!”
“Say hi to your wife for me.”
I pull the trigger without a second thought, a clean shot to the middle of his head. I feel like myself again.
I hear footsteps approaching, and I sigh, letting my hands fall to my sides. The room is surrounded by guards in seconds, and I sigh. I really don’t care if I get killed tonight, it’s not like I’m doing much of living anyway.
I see the red dots pointed at me as about twenty guns of various types are pointed at me. Then I see him walk in – the reason why my life went to shit and took me away from Dante.
He is the reason I’m even here in the first place. I raise mt hands back and point the gun at him. I pull this trigger, and I am not leaving here alive, but what the hell.
Fin steps in front of Nikolai, holding my eyes as I contemplate my next move. I don’t mind blowing both their brains out. Deliliah isn’t missing either; she is on her knees with a sniper, ready to fire. I know she has been looking for an excuse to kill me; this seems like the perfect one.
What is it about him that makes them willing to kill and die for him? Is it just the power that comes with being the head of the mafia?
“Stand down,” I hear him say as he steps out from Fin’s covering and starts walking towards me.
I hold the gun tighter but can’t bring myself to pull the trigger. There’s something about his aura, his powerful gaze, and the way he doesn’t take his eyes off mine – like he’s daring me.
“I will shoot you!” I yell.
“Don’t miss.”
I try to get myself to pull the trigger, but I just can’t bring myself to. He reaches me and pulls the gun away from my hold with a stern look.
Why in the world couldn’t I shoot this arrogant bastard?