Page 106 of Savage Hearts

We stand like that, elbows locked, weapons loaded, ready to blow each other’s heads off, until he says through gritted teeth, “She’s alive?”

“Yes. No thanks to you.”

“Where are you keeping her?”

“Don’t waste my time with stupid questions.”

“I should fucking kill you!”

“Probably. But if you do, she’ll starve to death. Alone. Is that really what you want?”

He curses violently in Gaelic. It’s obviously taking every ounce of his self-control not to pull the trigger.

“She likes you, you know.”

Taken off guard by that, Spider blinks. “What?”

“It’s the only reason you’re not dead right now. She asked me not to kill you. Even after you put a bullet in her gut, she still said you were her friend. It’s really something else, when you think about it. Personally, if I’d lost a kidney, a spleen, and two liters of blood, my mood would be a little less forgiving.”

He licks his lips and adjusts his weight from foot to foot. His voice gruff, he says, “Let me take her home.”

“She is home. She’s mine.”

His eyes flare with rage at all the terrible things he’s imagining I’ve done to her. “You sick fuck!”

“Come on, now. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

“She doesn’t deserve this! She’s innocent!”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then let her go!”

I stare into his eyes, already knowing the answer before I ask the question. “Would you let her go if you had her?”

He clenches his jaw. His face turns red. He curses at me again, this time in English, using creatively colorful language.

“That’s what I thought. Tell me, did your boss send you, or was this little rescue mission your idea? I can’t imagine Declan embarking on such a desperate, destined-to-fail endeavor.”

“Where. The fuck.Is she?”

“This is getting tedious. Is there anything you want me to tell her before I go?”

He digs the muzzle of his gun deeper into my neck and snaps, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Stubborn as a bloodstain, this Irishman. Despite my inclination to hate him, I find myself admiring his resolve.

“Last chance. No apology you want me to pass along?”

“Give her to me. She’s nothing to you!”

“No sincere words about how sorry you are that you almost killed her?”

“It was an accident! It should’ve been you!”

“But it wasn’t. You shot her. Now she’s mine. I can see you’re having a hard time with both those things, which is good. You deserve to suffer. And I applaud your tenacity, but if you don’t leave Moscow within twelve hours, you’ll be buried here.”

I allow myself a small, humorless smile. “My promise that I’d spare you doesn’t extend to the rest of the Bratva.”