Page 104 of Precious Hazard

“Tara!” Jelena grabs the hem of my shirt, yanking me backward. “There are more coming from the back!”

Shit.Keeping low and pointing my gun ahead, I follow Jelena to the other end of the bar where Iliya is slumped on the floor, pressing a hand to his bleeding side.

“Use this.” I pass him a bar towel I grabbed from a cubby and crane my neck, taking a look through the narrow gap below the liquor shelves and just above the back bar counter. It serves as quick access to extra supplies lined up on the ledge that runs along the other side of the mirrored wall.

The club’s back entrance is located in the storage room right behind that wall, tucked between the beer crates stacked on either side. Five more gang dudes in ratty jeans and oversized sweatshirts are pouring through the doorway. With how our bar is set up, there’s no way for anyone up front to see the incoming hostiles. Jelena and I are the only ones aware of the new threat, and she’s currently busy trying to stop Iliya from bleeding out. What are my chances of shooting all five thugs before they cankill me? Pretty slim, but I don’t have a choice but to try. They’re less than ten feet from us anyway.

I duck back down and take a deep breath. The wet cabinetry and my own sweat are starting to make me feel sticky. Here goes nothing. Gripping the gun in my hand, I spring up, aiming at the back door through the gap between two Johnnie Walker bottles.

The two guys closest to the entrance drop to the ground simultaneously.

What?

I blink, and two more collapse face down on the floor.

The last would-be attacker spins around just as another gunshot explodes through the air. The man’s legs fold under him, and he slumps over, revealing a backlit figure in a black suit standing at the threshold. His arms bent at his sides; a gun at the ready in each hand.

I lower my weapon, staring at my husband, while Arturo steps over the dead guy and heads my way.

The shooting has stopped in the main part of the club. In the sudden stillness, the heavy fall of his soles on the tiled floor echoes like thunder in my ears. He slips his weapons into their holsters as his gaze fixes on me.

I follow him with my eyes until he reaches the edge of the dividing wall and then emerges in full view at the end of the bar counter. A couple more steps, and he stands right in front of me.

“Having too much fun to answer my calls, Tara darling?”

“You could say that. How was your day?”

Quiet chatter erupts from the people behind me, and I realize that our exchange has drawn attention from everyone leftinside. The weight of dozens of eyes suddenly drops on me. I can feel themallwatching us, and it’s making me nervous as hell.

“Eventful.” Arturo puts his hands in his pants pockets. “I was under the impression you understood we are still on high alert. So, what the fuck are you doing here? Without your guards, I might add.”

“Naos is considered one of the safest places in town, DeVille.”

“Oh really? My bad, then. I guess I just wasted a dozen goons to get to you for no goddamned good reason since you were, obviously, PERFECTLY SAFE! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“Don’t yell at me, DeVille!” Something wet slides into the corner of my eye, and I quickly wipe it away while trying to keep my composure in front of this infuriating man. “I have a nearly full magazine in my Beretta, and I sure as hell know how to—”

“Is that BLOOD?”

I look at my hand. There’s a red stain across my knuckles. I must have got nicked by a glass fragment and didn’t notice with all the shit going down. Whatever. “Do not change the subj—”

His fingers seize my chin, tilting my head to the side. “Tara.” A low rumbling growl leaves his throat.

“I’m fine.” I brush his hand away. “Will you stop interrupting me? You’re making a scene, by the way. And we both know how much you enjoy doing that in public. This place is a mess, and I need to— DeVille! Put me down!”

“No,” he grunts as he carries me toward the storage room. “We’re going home to have our scene in private.”

“Are you nuts? The police are probably on their way, and Iliya needs medical care. I have to—”

“You are not a lawyer. Nor a doctor. What you are, is my wife. And currently, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a fucking scratch, Arturo!”

“Mm-hmm. And that’s definitely a conditioned reflex.”

“What?”

He walks into the storage room and navigates around the racks of supplies near the back door. I spot two more dead bodies.